Happen you never loved.
Eliza:
I, too, was young, once, daughter.
Judith:
Ay: and yet,
You’ve never tramped the road I’ve had to travel.
God send it stretch not forty-year!
Eliza:
I’ve come
That forty-year. We’re out on the selfsame road,
The three of us: but, she’s the stoniest bit
To travel still—the bride just setting out,
And stepping daintily down the lilylea.
We’ve known the worst.
Judith:
But, she can keep the highway,
While I must slink in the ditch, among the nettles.
Eliza: