I stay? O God, what have I done!
That I’d never crossed the threshold!
Eliza:
You’re not going
To leave him, Phœbe? You cannot: you’re his wife;
And cannot quit ... But, I’m getting old ...
Jim:
Leave me?
Leave me? She’s mad! I never heard the like—
And on my wedding-day—stark, staring mad!
But, I’m your husband; and I bid you bide.
Phœbe:
O Jim, if you had only told the truth,
I might, God knows—for I was fond of you,
And trusted ...
Jim:
Now you’re talking sense. Leave me—
And married to me in a church, and all!
But, that’s all over; and you’re not huffed now.
There’s naught in me to take a scunner at.
Yet the shying filly may prove a steady mare,
Once a man’s astriddle her who’ll stand no capers.
You’ve got to let a woman learn who’s master,
Sooner or later: so, it’s just as well
To get it over, once and for all. That’s that.
And now, let Judith go. Come, Phœbe, lass:
I thought you’d a tender heart. Don’t be too hard
On a luckless wench: but let bygones be bygones.
All’s well that ends well. And what odds, my lass,
Even if the brat were mine?
Phœbe: