Celia: He was crazy with crossness before that.
Mother: If he is it's on account of his learning.
Them that have too much of it are seven times
crosser than them that never saw a book.
Celia: It is better to be tied to any thorny bush
than to be with a cross man. He to know the
seventy-two languages he couldn't be more crabbed
than what he is.
Mother: It is natural to people do be so clever
to be fiery a little, and not have a long patience.
Celia: It's a pity he wouldn't stop in that
school he had down in the North, and not to come
back here in the latter end of life.
Mother: Ah, he was maybe tired with enlightening
his scholars and he took a notion to acquaint
ourselves with knowledge and learning. I was
trying to reckon a while ago the number of the
years he was away, according to the buttons of my
gown (fingers bodice), but they went astray on me
at the gathers of the neck.
Celia: If the hour would come he'd go out of
this, I'd sing, I'd play on all the melodeons that
ever was known! (Sings.) (Air, "Shule Aroon.")
"I would not wish him any ill,
But were he swept to some far hill
It's then I'd laugh and laugh my fill,