CONCOBAR.
I should have thought, Cuchullain,
My graver company would better match
Your greatness and your years; but I waste breath
In harping on that tale.
CUCHULLAIN.
You do, great King.
Because their youth is the kind wandering wave
That carries me about the world; and if it sank,
My sword would lose its lightness.
CONCOBAR.
Yet, Cuchullain,
Emain should be the foremost town of the world.
CUCHULLAIN.
It is the foremost town.
CONCOBAR.
No, no, it's not.
Nothing but men can make towns great, and he,
The one over-topping man that's in the world,
Keeps far away.
DAIRE.
He will not hear you, King,
And we old men had best keep company
With one another. I'll fill the horn for you.
CONCOBAR.
I will not drink, old fool. You have drunk a horn
At every door we came to.
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