Maybe: and yet, you shall not cross that doorsill,
Until I know.
Judith:
Come, woman, don’t be foolish.
Phœbe:
You say I’ve no right. Pray God, you speak the truth:
But there may be no woman in the world
Who has a better right.
Judith:
You’d never heed
A doting dobby’s blethering, would you, lass—
An old, blind, crazy creature ...
Phœbe:
If I’ve no right,
You’ll surely never have the heart to keep
The name from me? You’ll set my mind at ease?
Judith: