o lie ...
And she's the true heart, Phoebe, true as death,
Whatever it may seem.

JIM:
That's that: and so ...

(_While they have been talking, EZRA has risen from the settle,
unnoticed; and has hobbled to where PHOEBE and JUDITH confront one
another. He suddenly touches PHOEBE's arm._)

EZRA:
Cackling like guinea-fowl when a hawk's in air!
I must have snoozed; yet, I caught the gabble. There'll be
A clatter all day now, with two women's tongues,
Clack-clack against each other, in the house--
Two pendulums in one clock. Lucky I'm deaf.
But, I remember. Give me back the bairn.
Nay: this is not the wench. I want Jim's bride--
The mother of his daughter. Judith, lass,
Where are you? Come, I want to nurse my grandchild--
Jim's little lass.

ELIZA (_stepping towards EZRA_):
Come, hold your foolish tongue.
You don't know what you're saying. Come, sit down.

(_Leads him back to the settle._)

JIM:
If he don't stop his yammer, I'll slit his weasen--
I'll wring his neck for him!

EZRA:
What's wrong? What's wrong?
I'm an old man, now; and must do as I'm bid like a bairn--
I, who was master, and did all the bidding.
And you, Jim, I'd have broken your back like a rabbit's,
At one time, if you'd talked to me like that.
But now I'm old and sightless; and any tit
May chivvy a blind kestrel. Ay, I'm old
And weak--so waffly in arms and shanks, that now
I couldn't even hold down a hog to be clipped:
So, boys can threaten me, and go unskelped:
So you can bray; and I must hold my peace:
Yet, mark my words, the hemp's ripe for the rope
That'll throttle you one day, you gallows-bird.
But, something's happening that a blind man's sense
Cannot take hold of; so, I'd best be quiet--
Ay, just sit still all day, and nod and nod,
Until I nod myself into my coffin:
That's all that's left me.

JUDITH (_to PHOEBE_):
You'd weigh an old man's gossip
Against my word? O woman, pay no heed
To idle tongues, if you'd keep happiness.

PHOEBE:
While the tongue lies, the eyes speak out the truth.

JUDITH:
The eyes? Then you'll not take my word for it,
But let a dotard's clatterjaw destroy you?
You ken my worth: yet, if you care for Jim,
You'll trust his oath. If he denies the bairn,
Then, you'll believe? You'd surely never doubt
Your husband's word, and on your wedding-day?
Small wonder you'd be duberous of mine.
But Jim's not my sort