Has half my spunk, my relish. I’d not trust
Their judgment of a ewe, let alone a woman:
But I could size a wench up, at a glance;
And Judith ...

ELIZA:
Ay: but Krindlesyke would be
A muckheap-lie-on, with that cloffy slut
For mistress. But she flitted one fine night.

EZRA:
Rarely the shots of the flock turn lowpy-dyke;
Likelier the tops have the spunk to run ramrace;
And I think no worse ...

ELIZA:
Her father turned her out,
’Twas whispered; and he’s never named her, since:
And no one’s heard a word. I couldn’t thole
The lass. She’d big cow-eyes: there’s little good
In that sort. Jim’s well shot of her; he’ll not
Hear tell of her: that sort can always find
Another man to fool: they don’t come back:
Past’s past, with them.

EZRA:
I liked ...

ELIZA:
Ay, you’re Jim’s dad.