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CORNISH DIALOGUE

AS the Cornish dialogue peculiarly illustrates a description of literary composition which has no resemblance to that of any county, I think it advisable to give one specimen :--

DIALOGUE BETWEEN MAL TRELOARE AND SAUNDRY KEMP.

(Haw kept his eye upon me all the while.)

Zes hem to Aant, "Then whos es thees braa maide?

Come tha wayst long, dasent be afraid."

Then mov'd my side, like a thing,

Aand pull'd my mantle, and just touch'd my ching,

"How arry,jung woman?" zeshaw. "Howdost do?"

Zes I, "Jue saucy dog, what's that to jue?

Keep off, jung lad, else thees have a slap."

Then haw fooch'd some great big doat figs in me lap.

So I thoft, as haw had been so kind,

Haw might go by Aant Blanch, ef haw had a mind.

Aand so haw ded, sand tookt Aant Blanch's arm.

"Araeh!" zes haw, "I dedn't mane no harm."

So then Aant Blanch and he ded talk and jest

Bout dabbing clay and bricks at Petran feast.

Saundry. Ahab then, Ma!, 'twas there they dabbed the clay

Mal. Plaase Father, Kemp, tes true wot I do saay.

And hire me now, pla-sure, haw dedent budge

From Aanty's arm till jest this side Long Brudge

Aand then zes he to Aant, "Shall we go in

To Aafe-waye house, and have a dram of gin

And trickle mixt? Depend ol do es good,

Taake up the sweat, and set to rights the blud."

So Aant did saay, "Such things she dedn 't chuse,"

And squeezed my hand, aand bike a thing refuse.

So when we pass'd along by Wheal Bog moor,

Haw jumpt behind, and pok 't es in the door.

Haw caal 'd for gin, aand brandy too, I think.

He clunk 'd the brandy, we the gin did drink.

So when haw wish'd good night, as es the caase,

Haw kiss 't Aant Blanch, and jist neen touched my face.

Now, Saundry Kemp, there's nothing sure in this,

To my moinde, then, that thee shust take amiss.

Saundry. No, fath, then Ma!, ef this is all aand true,

I had a done the same ef I was jue.

Mal. Next time in any house I see or near am,

I'll down upon the plancheon, rat am, tear am,

Aand I will so poaw am.

Saundry. Our Kappen's there, just by thickey bush.

Hush! now Mally, hush!

Aand as hes here, so close upon the way,

I wedent wish haw nawed what he did zay,

And jett I dedent care, now fath and soul,

Ef so be our Kappen wor to hire the whole.

How arry, Kappen? Where be going so fast?

Jure goin' hum, suppose, jure in sich haste.

Kappen. Who's that than? Saundry, arten thee ashamed

To coosy so again? Thee wust be blamed

Ef thees stay here all night to prate wi' Mal!

When tel thy cour, thee wusten come to Bal

Aand thee art a Cobbe, I tell thee so.

I'll tell the owners ef thee dosent go.

Saundry. Why, harkee, Kappen, doant skoal poor I.

Touch pipe a crum, jue 'll naw the reason why.

Cozen Ma! aand I ben courtain bout afe a year.

Hould up tha head, Mal; don't be ashamed, dost hire?

Aand Crull one day made grief 'tween I and she;

But he shall smart for it now, I swear by G --.

Haw told me lies, as round as any cup.

Now Mal and I have mit, we've made it up;

So, Kappen, that's the way I stopt, I vow.

Kappen. Ahab! I dedent giss the case jist now.

But what dost think of that last batch of ore?

Saundry. Why pewer and keenly gossen, Kappen, shore

I bleeve that day, ef Frankey's pair womt drunk,

We shuld had pewer stuff too from the lump.

But there, tes all good time, as people saay,

The flooken now, aint throw'd es far away;

So hope to have bra turnrnills soon to grass.

How did laast batch down to Jandower pass?

Kappen. Why, hang thy body, Saundry, speed, I saay,

Thees keep thy clacker going till tes day.

Go speak to Mally now, jue foolish toad.

I wish both well, I'll keep my road.

Saumiry. Good nightie, Kappen, then I wishee well.

Where artee, Mally? Dusten haw hire me, Mal?

Dusent go away, why jue must think of this, B

Before we part, shore we must have a kiss.

She wiped her muzzle from the mundic stuf

And he rub/id his, a little stain'd with snuff

Now then, there, good night, Mal, there's good night;

But, stop a crum.

Molly. Good night.

Kappen. Good night.

Keendle teening, candle lighting.

Squarded hat, broken or cracked hat.

Lem ma naw, let me know, tell me.

Wheal Bog, wheal, or, correctly spelt, hue!, is old Cornish, and signifies a mine of work.

Doat figs, broad figs.

A cobbe, a cobbler, a bungler.

Bra tummills, brave heaps, large piles of ore.


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