Eclogue: — John, Jealous at Shroton Feair
JEÄNE .
I' M thankvul I be out o' that
Thick crowd, an' not asquot quite flat.
That ever we should plunge in where the vo'k do drunge
So tight's the cheese-wring on the veät!
I've sca'ce a thing a-left in pleäce.
'Tis all a-tore vrom pin an' leäce.
My bonnet's like a wad, a-beät up to a dod,
An' all my heäir's about my feäce.
HER BROTHER .
Here, come an' zit out here a bit,
An' put yourzelf to rights.
JOHN .
No, Jeäne; no, no! Now you don't show
The very wo'st o' plights.
HER BROTHER .
Come, come, there's little harm adone;
Your hoops be out so roun's the zun.
JOHN .
An' there's your bonnet back in sheäpe.
HER BROTHER .
An' there's your pin, and there's your ceäpe.
JOHN .
An' there your curls do match, an' there
'S the vittiest maid in all the feäir.
JEÄNE .
Now look, an' tell us who's a-spied
Vrom Sturminster, or Manston zide.
HER BROTHER .
There's ranten Joe! How he do stalk,
An' zwang his whip, an' laugh, an' talk!
JOHN .
An' how his head do wag, avore his steppen lag
Jist like a pigeon's in a walk!
HER BROTHER .
Heigh! there, then, Joey, ben't we proud
JEÄNE .
He can't hear you among the crowd.
HER BROTHER .
Why, no, the thunder peals do drown the sound o' wheels.
His own pipe is a-pitched too loud.
What, you here too?
RACKEIÈN JOE .
Yes, Sir, to you.
All o' me that's a-left.
JEÄNE .
A body plump's a goodish lump
Where reämes ha' such a heft.
JOHN .
Who lost his crown a-racen?
RACKETÈN JOE .
Who?
Zome silly chap abacken you.
Well, now, an' how do vo'k treat Jeäne?
JEÄNE .
Why not wi' feärens.
RACKETÈN JOE .
What d'ye meän,
When I've a-brought ye such a bunch
O' theäse nice ginger-nuts to crunch?
An' here, John, here! you teäke a vew
JOHN .
No, keep em all vor Jeäne an' you!
RACKETÈN JOE .
Well, Jeäne, an' when d'ye meän to come
An' call on me, then, up at hwome.
You han't a-come athirt, since I'd my voot a-hurt,
A-slippen vrom the tree I clomb.
JEÄNE .
Well, if so be that you be stout
On voot ageän, you'll vind me out.
JOHN .
Aye, better chaps woont goo, not many steps vor you,
If you do hawk yourzelf about.
RACKEIÈN JOE .
Wull John, come too?
JOHN .
No, thanks to you.
Two's company, dree's nwone.
HER BROTHER .
There don't be stung by his mad tongue,
'Tis nothen else but fun.
JEÄNE .
There, what d'ye think o' my new ceäpe?
JOHN .
Why, think that 'tis an ugly sheäpe.
JEÄNE .
Then you should buy me, now theäse feäir,
A mwore becomen woone to wear.
JOHN .
I buy your ceäpe! No; Joe wull screäpe
Up dibs enough to buy your ceäpe.
As things do look, to meäke you fine
Is long Joe's business mwore than mine.
JEÄNE .
Lauk, John, the mwore that you do pout
The mwore he'll gl─ône.
JOHN .
A yelpen lout.
I' M thankvul I be out o' that
Thick crowd, an' not asquot quite flat.
That ever we should plunge in where the vo'k do drunge
So tight's the cheese-wring on the veät!
I've sca'ce a thing a-left in pleäce.
'Tis all a-tore vrom pin an' leäce.
My bonnet's like a wad, a-beät up to a dod,
An' all my heäir's about my feäce.
HER BROTHER .
Here, come an' zit out here a bit,
An' put yourzelf to rights.
JOHN .
No, Jeäne; no, no! Now you don't show
The very wo'st o' plights.
HER BROTHER .
Come, come, there's little harm adone;
Your hoops be out so roun's the zun.
JOHN .
An' there's your bonnet back in sheäpe.
HER BROTHER .
An' there's your pin, and there's your ceäpe.
JOHN .
An' there your curls do match, an' there
'S the vittiest maid in all the feäir.
JEÄNE .
Now look, an' tell us who's a-spied
Vrom Sturminster, or Manston zide.
HER BROTHER .
There's ranten Joe! How he do stalk,
An' zwang his whip, an' laugh, an' talk!
JOHN .
An' how his head do wag, avore his steppen lag
Jist like a pigeon's in a walk!
HER BROTHER .
Heigh! there, then, Joey, ben't we proud
JEÄNE .
He can't hear you among the crowd.
HER BROTHER .
Why, no, the thunder peals do drown the sound o' wheels.
His own pipe is a-pitched too loud.
What, you here too?
RACKEIÈN JOE .
Yes, Sir, to you.
All o' me that's a-left.
JEÄNE .
A body plump's a goodish lump
Where reämes ha' such a heft.
JOHN .
Who lost his crown a-racen?
RACKETÈN JOE .
Who?
Zome silly chap abacken you.
Well, now, an' how do vo'k treat Jeäne?
JEÄNE .
Why not wi' feärens.
RACKETÈN JOE .
What d'ye meän,
When I've a-brought ye such a bunch
O' theäse nice ginger-nuts to crunch?
An' here, John, here! you teäke a vew
JOHN .
No, keep em all vor Jeäne an' you!
RACKETÈN JOE .
Well, Jeäne, an' when d'ye meän to come
An' call on me, then, up at hwome.
You han't a-come athirt, since I'd my voot a-hurt,
A-slippen vrom the tree I clomb.
JEÄNE .
Well, if so be that you be stout
On voot ageän, you'll vind me out.
JOHN .
Aye, better chaps woont goo, not many steps vor you,
If you do hawk yourzelf about.
RACKEIÈN JOE .
Wull John, come too?
JOHN .
No, thanks to you.
Two's company, dree's nwone.
HER BROTHER .
There don't be stung by his mad tongue,
'Tis nothen else but fun.
JEÄNE .
There, what d'ye think o' my new ceäpe?
JOHN .
Why, think that 'tis an ugly sheäpe.
JEÄNE .
Then you should buy me, now theäse feäir,
A mwore becomen woone to wear.
JOHN .
I buy your ceäpe! No; Joe wull screäpe
Up dibs enough to buy your ceäpe.
As things do look, to meäke you fine
Is long Joe's business mwore than mine.
JEÄNE .
Lauk, John, the mwore that you do pout
The mwore he'll gl─ône.
JOHN .
A yelpen lout.
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