Krindlesyke Part 5

PHBE: I heard your name. I've heard That name before.

JUDITH: You heard no good of it, Whoever spoke.

PHBE: I heard it from the lips That uttered it just now.

JUDITH: From Jim's? Well, Jim Kens what I am. I wonder he lets you talk With me. Come ...

PHBE: Not until I know the name Of your baby's father.

JUDITH: You've no right to ask.

PHBE: Maybe: and yet, you shall not cross that doorsill, Until I know.

JUDITH: Come, woman, don't be foolish.

PHBE: You say I've no right. Pray G.o.d, 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, la.s.s-- An old, blind, crazy creature ...

PHBE: 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: The heart! If it will set your mind at ease, I'll speak my shame ... I'll speak my shame right out ...

I'll speak my shame right out, before you all.

JIM: But, la.s.s!

ELIZA (_to PHBE_): Nay: let her go. You're young and hard: And I was hard, though far from young: I've long Been growing old; though little I realized How old. And when you're old, you don't judge hardly: You ken things happen, in spite of us, w.i.l.l.y-nilly.

We think we're safe, holding the reins; and then In a flash the mare bolts; and the wheels fly off; And we're lying, stunned, beneath the broken cart.

So, let the la.s.s go quietly; and keep Your happiness. When you're old, you'll not let slip A chance of happiness so easily: There's not so much of it going, to pick and choose: The apple's speckled; but it's best to munch it, And get what relish out of it you can; And, one day, you'll be glad to chew the core: For all its bitterness, few chuck it from them, While they've a sense left that can savour aught.

So, let the la.s.s go. You may have the right To question her: but folk who stand on their rights Get little rest: they're on a quaking moss Without a foothold; and find themselves to the neck In Deadman's Flow, before they've floundered far.

Rights go for little, in this life: few are worth The risk of losing peace and quiet. You'll have Plenty to worrit, and keep you wakeful, without A pillow stuffed with burrs and briars: so, take An old wife's counsel, daughter: let well alone; And don't go gathering grievances. The la.s.s ...

JIM: Ay, don't be hard on her. Though mother's old, She talks sense, whiles. So let the poor la.s.s go.

JUDITH: The father of my bairn ...

JIM: She's lying, Phbe!

JUDITH: The father of my bairn is--William Burn-- A stranger to these parts. Now, let me pa.s.s.

(_She tries to slip by, but PHBE still does not make way for her._)

JIM: Ay, Phbe, let her go. She tells the truth.

I thought ... But I mistook her. Let her go.

I never reckoned you'd be a reesty nag: Yet, you can set your hoofs, and champ your bit With any mare, I see. I doubt you'll prove A rackle ramstam wife, if you've your head.

She's answered what you asked; though, why, unless ...

Well, I don't blame the wench: she should ken best.

PHBE: Judith, you lie.

JUDITH: I lie! You mean ...

PHBE: To-day, I married your bairn's father.

ELIZA: O G.o.d!

JIM: Come, la.s.s, I say!

JUDITH: No woman, no! I spoke the truth.

Haven't I shamed myself enough already-- That you must call me liar! (_To ELIZA_) Speak out now, If you're not tongue-tied: tell her all you ken-- How I'm a byword among honest women, And yet, no liar. You'd tongue enough just now To tell me what I was--a cruel tongue Cracking about my ears: and have you none To answer your son's wife, and save the lad From scandal?

ELIZA: I've not known the la.s.s to lie ...

And she's the true heart, Phbe, true as death, Whatever it may seem.

JIM: That's that: and so ...

(_While they have been talking, EZRA has risen from the settle, unnoticed; and has hobbled to where PHBE and JUDITH confront one another. He suddenly touches PHBE's arm._)

EZRA: Cackling like guinea-fowl when a hawk's in air!

I must have snoozed; yet, I caught the gabble. There'll be A clatter all day now, with two women's tongues, Clack-clack against each other, in the house-- Two pendulums in one clock. Lucky I'm deaf.

But, I remember. Give me back the bairn.

Nay: this is not the wench. I want Jim's bride-- The mother of his daughter. Judith, la.s.s, Where are you? Come, I want to nurse my grandchild-- Jim's little la.s.s.

ELIZA (_stepping towards EZRA_): Come, hold your foolish tongue.

You don't know what you're saying. Come, sit down.

(_Leads him back to the settle._)

JIM: If he don't stop his yammer, I'll slit his weasen-- I'll wring his neck for him!

EZRA: What's wrong? What's wrong?

I'm an old man, now; and must do as I'm bid like a bairn-- I, who was master, and did all the bidding.

And you, Jim, I'd have broken your back like a rabbit's, At one time, if you'd talked to me like that.

But now I'm old and sightless; and any t.i.t May chivvy a blind kestrel. Ay, I'm old And weak--so waffly in arms and shanks, that now I couldn't even hold down a hog to be clipped: So, boys can threaten me, and go unskelped: So you can bray; and I must hold my peace: Yet, mark my words, the hemp's ripe for the rope That'll throttle you one day, you gallows-bird.

But, something's happening that a blind man's sense Cannot take hold of; so, I'd best be quiet-- Ay, just sit still all day, and nod and nod, Until I nod myself into my coffin: That's all that's left me.

JUDITH (_to PHBE_): You'd weigh an old man's gossip Against my word? O woman, pay no heed To idle tongues, if you'd keep happiness.

PHBE: While the tongue lies, the eyes speak out the truth.

JUDITH: The eyes? Then you'll not take my word for it, But let a dotard's clatterjaw destroy you?

You ken my worth: yet, if you care for Jim, You'll trust his oath. If he denies the bairn, Then, you'll believe? You'd surely never doubt Your husband's word, and on your wedding-day?

Small wonder you'd be duberous of mine.

But Jim's not my sort; he's an honest lad; And he'll speak truly. If he denies the bairn ...

PHBE: I've not been used to doubting people's word.

My father's daughter couldn't but be trustful Of what men said; for he was truth itself.

If only he'd lived, I mightn't ...