You’d never heed
A doting dobby’s blethering, would you, lass--
An old, blind, crazy creature ...

PHŒBE:
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, lass!

ELIZA (_to PHŒBE_):
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, willy-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 lass 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: