BELL: Cock-a-whoop, my lad! Well done, for you, Ruth, lass; you’ve kindled him, As I could never do, for all my chaff. I little dreamt he’d ever turn lobstroplous: I hardly ken him, with his dander up, Swelling and bridling like a bubblyjock. If I pricked him now, he’d bleed red blood--not ewe’s milk: The flick of my tongue can nettle him at last: His haunches quiver, for all his woolly coat; He’ll prove a Haggard, yet. Nay--he said “husband”: No Haggard I’ve heard tell on’s been a husband: But, if your taste’s for husbands, lass, you’re suited, Till doomsday, as he says. He kens his mind: When barely breeched, he chose to bide with sheep; Though he might have travelled with horses: and it’s sheep His heart is set on still. But, I’ve no turn For certainties myself: no sheep for me: Life, with a tossing mane, and clattering hoofs, The chancy life for me--not certain death, With the stink of tar and sheepdip in my nostrils. MICHAEL: Life, with a clattering tongue, you mean to say. BELL: Well: you’re a bonnie lass, I must admit: And, if I’d fancied daughters, I might have done Much worse than let young Michael pick them for me: He’s not gone poseying in the kitchen garden. I never guessed he’d an eye for aught but ewes: As, blind as other mothers, I’d have sworn I’d kenned him, inside-out, since he was--nay! But he was never a rapscallion ripstitch-- Always a prim and proper little man, A butter-won’t-melt-in-my-mouth young sobersides, Since he found his own feet. Yet, the blade that’s wed-- The jack-knife, turned into a pair of scissors-- Without a word, is not the son I thought him. There’s something of his mammy, after all, In Michael: and as for you, my lass, you’re just Your minney’s very spit. RUTH: You ken my mother? BELL: Ken Judith Ellershaw? You’ll ask me, next, If I’m acquainted with Bell Haggard. Well, Gaping for turnips, Michael? MICHAEL: I never heard ... BELL: What have you heard this fifteen-year, except The bleat of sheep, till Ruth’s voice kittled your ear? But, Judith sent some message by her daughter? RUTH: She doesn’t ken I’ve come: nay, doesn’t dream I’m married even; though I meant to tell her This morning; but I couldn’t: she started so, When I let slip Michael’s name; and turned so pale. I don’t know why; but I feared some word of hers Might come between us: and I couldn’t let Even my mother come between us now: So, I pretended to set out for work As usual: then, when we were married, went back With Michael, to break the news. But the door was locked: And neighbours said she was out--been gone some time: And Michael was impatient to be home: So, I had to come. I can’t think what has happened. I hated leaving her like that: I’ve never In all my life done such a thing. BELL: Well, Michael Should be relieved to learn it’s a first offence. RUTH: She’d gone without a word ...