Lightheaded from the tumble ... mother-wit’s
Jirbled and jumbled ... I came such a flam.
I’m not that bad ... I say, I’ll not lie down ...
Just let me rest a moment by the hearth,
Until ...

(_JUDITH leads her to a chair, fetches a basin of water and some linen,
and bathes the wound on BELL’s brow._)

JUDITH:
I wish ...

BELL:
I’m better here. I’ll soon
Be fit again ... Bell isn’t done for, yet:
She’s a tough customer--she’s always been
A banging, bobberous bletherskite, has Bell--
No fushenless, brashy, mim-mouthed mealy-face,
Fratished and perished in the howl-o’-winter.
No wind has ever blown too etherish,
Too snell to fire her blood: she’s always relished
A gorly, gousty, blusterous day that sets
Her body alow and birselling like a whinfire.
But what a windyhash! My wit’s wool-gathering;
And I’m waffling like a ... But I’d best be stepping,
Before he comes: I’ve far to travel to-night:
And I’m not so young ... And Michael mustn’t find
His tinker-mother, squatted by the hearth,
Nursing a bloody head. But, mind you, Judith:
I stumbled; and I hurt my side in falling: