Шарлотта Бронте - Лучшие романы сестер Бронте / The best of the Brontë sisters

There’s nobbut t’ missis; and shoo’ll not oppen ’t an ye mak’ yer flaysome dins till neeght. – There is nobody but the missis, and she will not open even if you make a terrible noise till the night.

Nor-ne me! I’ll hae no hend wi’t – No, not me! I will have no hand with it (won’t help)

Aw wonder how yah can faishion to stand thear i’ idleness un war, when all on ’ems goan out! Bud yah’re a nowt, and it’s no use talking – yah’ll niver mend o’yer ill ways, but goa raight to t’ divil, like yer mother afore ye! – I wonder how you can stay there in idleness and worse, when all of them have gone out! But you are nobody, and it’s no use talking – you will never mend your ill ways (change your wrong habits), but go right to the devil, like your mother before you!

set store on –think it of particular importance

T’ maister nobbut just buried, and Sabbath not o’ered, und t’ sound o’ t’ gospel still i’ yer lugs, and ye darr be laiking! Shame on ye! sit ye down, ill childer! there’s good books eneugh if ye’ll read ’em: sit ye down, and think o’ yer sowls! – The master is only just buried, and the Sabbath is not over, and the sound of the gospel still in your ears, and you dare to have fun! Shame on you! Sit down, bad children! There are enough good books for you to read, sit down and think of your souls!

Maister, coom hither! Miss Cathy’s riven th’ back off ‘Th’ Helmet o’ Salvation,’ un’ Heathcliff’s pawsed his fit into t’ first part o’ ‘T’ Brooad Way to Destruction!’ It’s fair flaysome that ye let ’em go on this gait. Ech! th’ owd man wad ha’ laced ’em properly – but he’s goan! – Master, come here! Miss Cathy has torn the back off “The Helmet of Salvation,” and Heathcliff put his feet into the first part of “The Broad Way to Destruction”! It’s frightening that you let them go on this way. Oh! The old man would have laced (whipped) them properly, but he is gone!

owd Nick – old Nick =the devil

pilgrim’s staff – a hooked walking stick

Thou art – you are; didst thou – did you; thy – your; Lo – Lord; Brethren – brothers (archaic)

Grimalkin – an old or an evil female cat, connected with witchcraft.

sotto voce – quietly ( Italian )

to strike my colours – to surrender (the expression came from the sailors’ slang – “colours” is the flag under which the ship is fighting, “to strike” means to pull down)

to wait on – to serve

indigenae – indigenus = local ( Latin )

an unfledged dunnock – a very young forest bird

thick – intimate

confined to the chimney-corner – chimney-corner is a recess that has a seat in a large open fireplace

at high-water mark – at the highest point

out-and-outer – an extremist

to beard – to contradict or to insult

negus – kind of mulled wine

donning – putting on clothes

from Walter Scott’s “ The Lady of the Lake” (originally old Scottish ballad), the story about revenge and the supernatural.

Milo – ancient Greek wrestler and hero who was devoured by wolves

And how isn’t that nowt comed in fro’ th’ field, be this time? What is he about? girt idle seeght! – And hasn’t that nobody come in from the field by this time? What is he up to? Great idle sight!

Yon lad gets war und war. He’s left th’ gate at t’ full swing, and Miss’s pony has trodden dahn two rigs o’ corn, and plottered through, raight o’er into t’ meadow! Hahsomdiver, t’ maister ’ull play t’ devil to-morn, and he’ll do weel. He’s patience itsseln wi’ sich careless, offald craters – patience itsseln he is! Bud he’ll not be soa allus – yah’s see, all on ye! Yah mun’n’t drive him out of his heead for nowt! – That lad gets worse and worse. He’s left the gate fully open, and Miss’s pony has trodden down two fields of corn, and blundered through, right over into the meadow! However, the master will play the devil tomorrow, and he’ll do well. He is patience itself with such careless, worthless creatures – patience itself, he is! But he’ll not be so always – you’ll see, all of you! You mustn’t drive him out of his head for nothing!

I sud more likker look for th’ horse. It ’ud be to more sense. Bud I can look for norther horse nur man of a neeght loike this – as black as t’ chimbley! und Heathcliff’s noan t’ chap to coom at my whistle – happen he’ll be less hard o’ hearing wi’ ye !’ – I should more liker (would much rather) look for the horse. It would be more sense. But I can look for neither horse nor man on a night like this – as black as the chimney! and Heathcliff’s not the chap to come at my whistle – it’s likely he will be less hard of hearing with you!

Nay, nay, he’s noan at Gimmerton. I’s niver wonder but he’s at t’ bothom of a bog-hoile. This visitation worn’t for nowt, and I wod hev’ ye to look out, Miss – yah muh be t’ next. Thank Hivin for all! All warks togither for gooid to them as is chozzen, and piked out fro’ th’ rubbidge! Yah knaw whet t’ Scripture ses.’ – No, no, he’s not at Gimmerton. I don’t wonder if he’s at the bottom of a bog-hole. This visitation (storm) wasn’t for nothing, and I would have you to look out (advise you to be aware), Miss – you might be the next. Thank Heaven for all! It all works out for good for those that are chosen (by God), and picked out from the rubbish! You know what the Scripture says.

Running after t’ lads, as usuald! If I war yah, maister, I’d just slam t’ boards i’ their faces all on ’em, gentle and simple! Never a day ut yah’re off, but yon cat o’ Linton comes sneaking hither; and Miss Nelly, shoo’s a fine lass! shoo sits watching for ye i’ t’ kitchen; and as yah’re in at one door, he’s out at t’other; and, then, wer grand lady goes a-courting of her side! It’s bonny behaviour, lurking amang t’ fields, after twelve o’ t’ night, wi’ that fahl, flaysome divil of a gipsy, Heathcliff! They think I’m blind; but I’m noan: nowt ut t’ soart! – I seed young Linton boath coming and going, and I seed yah’ (directing his discourse to me), ‘yah gooid fur nowt, slattenly witch! nip up and bolt into th’ house, t’ minute yah heard t’ maister’s horse-fit clatter up t’ road.’ – Running after the lads as usual! If I were you, master, I’d just slam the doors in their faces, all of them, gentle and simple! Never a day when you’re away, but that cat Linton comes sneaking here; and Miss Nelly, she’s a fine lass! she sits watching for you in the kitchen; and as you are in at one door, he’s out at the other; and then our grand lady goes a-courting herself! It’s fine behaviour, lurking in the fields, after twelve at night, with that foul, frightening devil of a gypsy, Heathcliff! They think I’m blind; but I’m not: nothing of the sort! – I saw young Linton both coming and going, and I saw you, you good for nothing, slovenly witch! run up and into the house, the minute you heard the master’s horse coming up the road.