Jim:
I’m damned! Nay, lass, I bid you bide:
I’d see you straked, before I’d let you go ...
Do you hear, I bid ... The blasted wench, she’s gone—
Gone! I’ve a mind ... If I don’t hang for her ...
Just let me get my fingers ... But, I’m betwattled
Like a stoorded tup! And this is my wedding-day!
(He stands speechless; but at length turns to Judith, who is gazing after Phœbe with an unrealizing stare.)
Jim:
Well ... anyway, you’ll not desert me, Judith.
Old friends are best: and I—I always liked you.
The other lass was a lamb to woo, but wed,
A termagant: and I’m well shot of her.
I’d have wrung the pullet’s neck for her one day,
If she’d—and the devil to pay! So it’s good riddance ...
Yet, she’d a way with her, she had, the filly!
And I’d have relished breaking her in. But you
Were always easy-going, and fond of me—
Ay, fond and faithful. Look, how you stood up
To her, the tawpy tauntril, for my sake!
We’ll let bygones be bygones, won’t we, Judith?
My chickens have come home to roost, it seems.
And so, this is my baby? Who’d have dreamt ...
I little looked to harvest my wild oats.
(Judith starts, shrinking from Jim: and then, clutching her baby to her bosom, she goes quickly out of the door.)
Judith:
I’m coming, Phœbe, coming home with you!
(Jim stands on the doorstone, staring after her, dumbfounded, till she is out of sight; then he turns, and clashes the door to.)
Eliza: