Ezra:
A son—a thief! I’ll have the law of him:
I’ll sprag his wheel: for all his pretty pace,
He’ll come a cropper yet, the scrunty wastrel.
This comes of marrying into a coper’s family:
I might have kenned: thieving runs in their blood.
Eliza:
I’ve seen the day that lie’d have roused ... But now,
It’s not worth while ... worth while. I’ve never felt
Such heat: it smothers me: it’s like a nightmare,
When you wake with your head in the blankets, all asweat:
Only, I cannot wake ... It snowed the night
That Peter went ...
Ezra:
Blabbering of heat and snow:
And all that money gone—my hard-earned savings!
We’re beggared, woman—beggared by your son:
And then, to sit and yammer like a yieldewe:
Come, stir your stumps; and clap your bonnet on:
Up and away!
Eliza:
And where should I away to?
Ezra:
I’ll have the law of him: I’ll have him gaoled,
And you must fetch the peeler.