Rock:  (Out of breath.) We went looking for a car to bring you to the train!

Flannery:  There was not one to be found.

Rock:  But those that are too costly!

Flannery:  Till we went to the Doctor of the Union.

Rock:  For to ask a lift for you on the ambulance....

Flannery:  But when he heard what we had to tell—­

Rock:  He said he would bring you and glad to do it on his own car, and no need to hansel him.

Flannery:  And welcome, if it was as far as the grave!

Rock:  All he is sorry for he hasn’t a horse that would rise you up through the sky—­

Conan:  Let him give me the lift so—­it will be a help to me.  It wasn’t only with his own hand Alexander won the world!

Flannery:  Unless you might give him, he was saying, a blast of the bellows, that would change his dispensary into a racing stable, and all that come to be cured into jockeys and into grooms!

Conan:  What chatterers ye are!  I gave ye no leave to speak of that.

Rock:  Ah, it costs nothing to be giving out newses.

Flannery:  The world and all will be coming to the door to throw up their hats for you, and you making your start, cars and ass cars, jennets and traps. (Sings.)

  “O Bay of Dublin, how my heart your troublin’,
  Your beauty haunts me like a fever dream;
  Like frozen fountains that the sun set bubblin’
  My heart’s blood warms when I but hear your name!”

Conan:  It’s my death I’ll come to in Dublin.  That news to get there ahead of me I’ll be pressed in the throng as thin as a griddle.

Flannery:  So you might be, too.  All I have that might protect you I offer free, and that’s this good umbrella that was given to me in a rainstorm by a priest. (Holds it out.)

Rock:  And what do you say to me giving you the loan of your charges for the road?

Conan:  Come in here, Maryanne! and give a glass to these honest men till they’ll wish me good luck upon my journey, as it’s much I’ll need it, with the weight of all I have to do.

Mother:  (Coming in.) So I will, so I will and welcome ...but that I disremember where did I put the key of the chest.

Conan:  I’ll engage you do!  There it is before you in the lock since ere yesterday. (Mother puts bottle and glasses on table.)

Flannery:  (Lifting glass.) That you may bring great good to Ireland and to the world!

Rock:  Here’s your good health!

Conan:  I’m obliged to you!

Rock and Flannery:  (Sing.) (Air, “The Cruiskeen lan.")

  “Gramachree ma cruiskeen Slainte geal mavourneen,
  Gramachree a cool-in bawn, bawn, bawn, ban-ban-ban,
  Oh, Gra-ma-chree a cool-in bawn.”