Part 18 (2/2)

But you're just a wheepie-leekie weatherc.o.c.k Like the lave of women, when a man's mislucket, Moidart and mismeaved and beside himself.

I fancied I'd be in clover at Krindlesyke, With you and all: but, sink me, if I haven't Just stuck my silly head into a bee-bike!

What's turned you vicious? I only want to smoke A cutty in peace: and you go on the rampage.

I mustn't smoke young master's pipe, it seems-- His pipe, no less! Young c.o.c.k-a-ride-a-roosie Is on the muckheap now; and all the hens Are clucking round him. I ken what it is: The c.o.c.kmadendy's been too easy with you.

It doesn't do to let you womenfolk Get out of hand. It's time I came, i' faiks, To pull you up, and keep you in your place.

I'll have no naggers, narr-narring all day long: I'll stand no fantigues. If the cull's too soft ...

JUDITH: Soft, did you say? I've seen him hike a man, And a heftier man than you, over a d.y.k.e, For yarking a lame beast. That drover'll mind-- Ay, to his dying day, he'll not forget He once ran into something hard.

JIM: Ay--ay ...

He's that sort, is he? My luck is out again.

I want a quiet life, to be let alone: And Krindlesyke won't be a bed of roses, With that sort ramping round. (_Starting uneasily._) What's that? I thought ...

There's no one in the other room, is there?

I've a feeling in my bones somebody's listening.

You've not deceived me, Judith? You've not trapped ...

I'm all a-swither, sweating like a brock.

I little dreamt you'd turn against me, Judith: But even here I don't feel safe now.

JUDITH: Safe?

JIM: So you don't know? I fancied everyone kenned.

Else why the devil should they stare like that?

And when you, too, looked ... Nay, how could you learn?

I'm davered, surely: Seppy Shank's rum Has gone to my noddle: drink's the very devil On an empty waim: and I never had a head.

What have I done? Ay, wouldn't you like to ken, To holler on the hounds?

JUDITH: Jim!

JIM: But what matter Whether you ken or not? You've done for me Already, dang you, with your hettle-tongue: You've put the notion in my head, the curs Are on my scent: and now, I cannot rest.

Happen, they're slinking now up b.l.o.o.d.ysyke, Like adders through the bent ... Nay, they don't yelp, The hounds that sleuth me: it's only in my head I hear the yapping: they're too cunning to yelp.

The sleichers slither after me on their bellies, As dumb and slick as adders ... But I'm doitered, And doting like a dobby. I want to sleep ...

A good night's rest would pull my wits together.

I swore I'd sleep ... but I couldn't close an eye, now Since ...

JUDITH: Jim, what ails you? Tell me what you've done.

I'm sorry, Jim ...

JIM: I swear I never set out To do it, Judith; and the thing was done, Before I came to my senses: that's G.o.d's truth: And may h.e.l.l blast ... You're sorry? Nay, but Jim's Too old a bird to be caught with chaff. You're fly: But, Jim's fly, too. No: mum's the word.

JUDITH: O Jim, You, surely, never think I'd ...

JIM: I don't know.

A man in my case can't tell who to trust, When every mongrel's yowling for his carcase.

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