Cuchullain.
That’s spoken as I’d spoken it at your age,
But you are in my house. Whatever man
Would fight with you shall fight it out with me.
They’re dumb. They’re dumb. How many of you would meet
[Drawing his sword.
This mutterer, this old whistler, this sandpiper,
This edge that’s grayer than the tide, this mouse
That’s gnawing at the timbers of the world,
This, this—Boy, I would meet them all in arms