‘What is it that thou art doing?’ says the big man.
Says Cúchulainn: ‘I am performing my feats (?) of valour and warfare, which I learnt in the course of the past year.’
‘What is that, my lad? For where the feats of knighthood are learnt, there those feats (of yours) are not counted (?) among them.’
‘Is that true?’ asks Cúchulainn.
‘'Tis true assuredly’, says the big man. ‘Is there in the world a woman-knight who is better than the woman-knight with whom I am now?’ asks Cúchulainn. ‘There is’, answers the big man: ‘for Scáthach daughter of Buanuinne, king of Scythia, in the east of the world, is better than she.’
‘We have hitherto heard talk of her’, says Cúchulainn.
‘'Tis likely thou hast heard’, says the big man; ‘and great are the countries and lands and grounds now between thee, O little man, and Scythia.’
‘Wouldst thou give me guidance, O big man?’ says Cúchulainn.
‘I will never give thee guidance’, says the big man.
‘On thee (be) thine evil’ says Cúchulainn, ‘and thy sorrowful sin, O spectral, shrivelled phantom! Without thy kindly help and thy guidance I have ever come.’