+The Wife.+
[_Sympathetically._]
I know.
So with mine. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away!
+The Younger Washerwoman.+
[_Folding linen._]
He takes more in proportion than gives!
+The Others.+
[_Shocked, exclaim._]
Oh, Louise!
+The Younger Washerwoman.+
But it’s true, as we country-folk know. He takes youth,
Health, and beauty, and hope. And he gives in return...?
Why, not even a grave!
+The Man.+
Aye; there’s something in that!
+The Younger Washerwoman.+
[_Bitterly, working herself up._]
To the earth are we born, and the earth all our days
Must we till for a meagre subsistence, backs bent,
And our faces, like beasts’, to the earth! Look at you.
[_To the_ +Man+.]
Like some crooked old tree! Do you think like a man?
Do you feel like a man among men? Why, this hoe
Is as human as you, you old stick-i’-the-mud!
+The Woman.+
Oh, Louise!
+The Man.+
[_Nettled._]