raise you up if you
were gasping from death. Give attention now ...
Aristotle.

_Mother_: It's Harry he used to be called.

_Conan_: Listen now. _(Sings.) (Air, "Bells of
Shandon.")_

"Once Aristotle hid in a bottle
Or some other vessel of security
A spell had power bring sweet from sour
Or bring blossoms blooming on the blasted tree."

_Mother: (Repeating last line_.) "Or bring blossoms
blooming on the blasted tree."

_Conan_: Is that now what you heard ...that
Aristotle has hid some secret spell?

_Mother_: I won't say what I don't know. My
memory is too weak for me to be telling lies.

_Conan_: You could strengthen it if you took it
in hand, putting a knot in the corner of your shawl
to keep such and such a thing in mind.

_Mother_: If I did I should put another knot in
the other corner to remember what was the first
one for.

_Conan_: You'd remember it well enough if it
was a pound of tea!

_Mother_: Ah, maybe it's best be as I am and not
to be running carrying lies here and there, putting
trouble on people's mind.

_Conan_: Isn't it terrible to be seeing all this
folly around me and not to have a way to
better it!

_Mother_: Ah, dear, it's best leave the time under
the mercy of the Man that is over us all.

_Conan_: (_Jumping up furious_.) Where's the
use of old people being in the world at all if they
cannot keep a memory of things gone by! (_Sings_.)
(_Air, "O the time I've lost in wooing_.")

"O the time I've lost pursuing
And feeling nothing doing,
The lure that led me from my bed
Has left me sad and rueing!
Success seemed very near me!
High hope was there to cheer me!
I asked my book where would I look
And all it did was fleer me!"

_Mother_: What is it ails you?

_Conan_: That secret to be in the world, and I
all to have laid my hand on it, and it to have gone
astray on me!

_Mother_: So it would go too.

_Conan_: A secret that could change the world!
I'd make it as good a world to live in as it was in
the time of the Greeks. I don't see much goodness
in the trace of the people in it now. To
change everything to its contrary the way the
book said it would! There would be great satisfaction
doing that. Was there ever in the world
a family was so little use to a man? (_Sings in
dejection_.) (_Air, "My Molly O."_)

"There is a rose in Ireland, I thought it would be mine
But now that it is hid from me I must forever pine.
Till death shall com