Eliza (to Phœbe):
Daughter, may you ...
Ezra (crooning, unseen, to the baby):
“Dance for your mammy,
Dance for your daddy ...”
Jim:
What ails the old runt now?
You mustn’t heed him, Phœbe, lass: he’s blind
And old and watty: but there’s no harm in him.
(Goes towards settle.)
Come, dad, and jog your wits, and stir your stumps,
And welcome ... What the devil’s this? Whose brat ...
Ezra: