LABOURER. What are we to do with it? I could make such stuff of this corn as would make you rejoice all the days of your life.
PEASANT. Why, what would you make of it?
LABOURER. A kind of drink. Drink, that would give you strength when you are weak, satisfy you when you are hungry, give you sleep when you are restless, make you merry when you're sad, give you courage when you're afraid. That's the drink I'd make!
PEASANT. Rubbish!
LABOURER. Rubbish indeed! It was just the same when I told you to sow in the bog, and then on the hill. You did not believe me then, but now you know! You'll find out about the drink the same way.
PEASANT. But what will you make it of?
LABOURER. Why, of this same corn.
PEASANT. But won't that be a sin?
LABOURER. Just hear him! Why should it be a sin? Everything is given for a joy to man.
PEASANT. And where did you get all your wisdom from, Nick? You seem a very ordinary man to look at, and hard-working too. Why, I don't remember you so much as ever taking your boots off all these two years you've been with me. And yet you seem to know everything. Where did you learn it?