ELIZA:
In time!

EZRA:
A narrow squeak.

ELIZA:
If she’d turned up,
The red-haired girl had lived at Krindlesyke,
Instead of me, this forty-year: and I--
I might ... But we must dree our weird. And yet,
To think what my life might have been, if only--
The difference!

EZRA:
Ay, and hers, “if ifs and ans!”
But I’m none certain she’d have seen it, either.
I could have had her without wedding her,
And no mistake, the nickering, red-haired baggage.
Though she was merry, she’d big rabbit-teeth,
Might prove gey ill to live with; ay, and a swarm
Of little sandy moppies like their doe,
Buck-teeth and freckled noses and saucer-eyes,
Gaping and squealing round the table at dinner,
And calling me their dad, as likely as not:
Though little her mug would matter, now I’m blind;
And by this there’ll scarce be a stump in her yellow gums,
And not a red hair to her nodding poll--
That shock of flame a shrivelled, grizzled wisp
Like bracken after a heathfire; that creamy skin,