After all this, it's not enough
From the man of cows—a half-ounce of snuff!
(One of the girls hands the snuff round; they laugh and sneeze, taking pinches of it.)
Old Farmer. My soul to the devil, Seagan, do the thing decently. Give out one of those fleeces you have in the cart with you.
Miser. I never saw the like of you for fools since I was born. Is it mad you are?
All. From the man of cows, a half-ounce of snuff!
Miser. Oh, maisead, if there must be a present put down, take the fleece, and my share of misfortune on you! (Three or four of the boys run out.)
Old Farmer. Aurah, Seagan, what is your opinion of Raftery now? He has you destroyed worse than the bush! (The boys come back, a fleece with them.)
Boy. Here is the fleece, and it's very heavy it is. (They put it down, and there falls a little bag out of it that bursts and scatters the money here and there on the floor.)
Miser. Ub-ub-bu! That is my share of money scattered on me that I got for my calves. (He stoops down to gather it together. All the people burst out laughing again.)
Old Farmer. Maisead, Seagan, where did you get the money? You told us you didn't sell your share of calves.