Miser. Ho! ho! Raftery, making poems as usual. Well, there is great joy on us, indeed, to see you in our midst.
Blind Man. What is the present you have brought to the new-married woman?
Miser. What is the present I brought? O maisead! the times are too bad on a poor man. I brought a few fleeces of wool I had to the market to-day, and I couldn't sell it; I had to bring it home again. And calves I had there, I couldn't get any buyer for at all. There is misfortune on these times.
Blind Man. Every person that came in brought his own present with him. There is the new-married woman, and let you put down a good present.
Miser. O maisead, much good may it do her! (He takes out of his pocket a small parcel of snuff; takes a piece of paper from the floor, and pours into it, slowly and carefully, a little of the snuff, and puts it on the table.)
Blind Man.
Look at the gifts of every kind
Were given with a willing mind;
After all this, it's not enough
From the man of cows—a pinch of snuff!
Old Farmer. Maisead, long life to you, Raftery; that your tongue may never lose its edge. That is a man of cows certainly; I myself am a man of sheep.
Blind Man. A bag of meal from the man of sheep.
Fair Young Man. And I am a man of pigs.