Conan: Go out of the house and I will tell you
in the by and bye.
Rock: That is what I was thinking. You are
talking nothing but lies.
Conan: I tell you that power is not far from
where you stand! But I will let no one see it only
myself.
Flannery: There might be some truth in it.
There are some say enchantments never went out
of Ireland.
Conan: It is a spell, I say, that will change
anything to its contrary. To turn it upon a snail,
there is hardly a greyhound but it would overtake;
but a hare it would turn to be the slowest thing in
the universe; too slow to go to a funeral.
Rock: I'll believe it when I'll see it.
Conan: You could see it if I let you look in
this hiding-hole.
Rock: Good-morrow to you!
Conan: Then you will see it, for I'll raise up
the stone. (Kneels.)
Rock: It to be anything it is likely a pot of
sovereigns.