Dairyman. Curds, curds, good nice curds.
Amal. Curdseller, I say, Curdseller.
Dairyman. Why do you call me? Will you buy some curds?
Amal. How can I buy? I have no money.
Dairyman. What a boy! Why call out then? Ugh! What a waste of time.
Amal. I would go with you if I could.
Dairyman. With me?
Amal. Yes, I seem to feel homesick when I hear you call from far down the road.
Dairyman [Lowering his yoke-pole] Whatever are you doing here, my child?
Amal. The doctor says I'm not to be out, so I sit here all day long.