Krindlesyke by Wilfrid Wilson Gibson
page 7 of 186 (03%)
page 7 of 186 (03%)
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Sheâll be a flighty faggit, mark my words.
ELIZA: Sheâs only been here once before; and now Sheâll be here all the time. Iâll find it strange With another woman in the house. Needs must Get used to it. Your mother found it strange, Likely ... Itâs my turn now, and long in coming. Perhaps, that makes it harder. Iâve got set Like a vane, when the windâs blown east so long, itâs clogged With dust, and cannot whisk with the chopping breeze. âTwill need a wrench to shift my bent; for change Comes sore and difficult at my time of life. EZRA: Ay, you may find your nose put out of joint, If sheâs a spirited wench. ELIZA: Due east itâs blown Since your mother died. She barely outlived my coming; And never saw a grandchild. I wonder ... Yet, I spared her all I could. Ay, that was it: She couldnât abide to watch me trying to spare her, Another woman doing her work, finoodling At jobs sheâd do so smartly, tidying her hearth, Using her oven, washing her cups and saucers, Scouring her tables, redding up her rooms, Handling her treasures, and wearing out her gear. And now, another, wringing out my dishclout, |
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