Trust you for that! And I’ll lie low:
It’s a dry bottom: and when the family’s snoring
You’ll come to me. Just whicker like a peesweep
Three times, and I’ll be with you in a jiffy.
We’ll take the road together, bonnie lass;
For we were always marrows, you and I.
If only that flirtigig, Phœbe, hadn’t come
Between me and my senses, we’d have wed,
And settled down at Krindlesyke for life:
But now we’ve got to hoof it to the end.
My sang! ’twill be a honeymoon for me,
After the rig I’ve run. But, hearken, Judith:
If you don’t turn up by ten o’clock, I’ll come
And batter on that door to wake the dead:
I’ll make such a rumpus, such a Bob-’s-adying,
Would rouse you, if you were straked. I’ll have you with me,
If I’ve got to carry you, chested: sink my soul!
And for all I care, that luggish slubberdegullion
May lounder my hurdies; and go to Hecklebarney!
I’m desperate, Judith ... and I don’t mind much ...
But, you’ll come, lass?

JUDITH:
I’ll come.

JIM:
Well, if you fail,
They’ll take me here, as sure as death.

BELL (_stepping forward_):