Gooid-for-naught madling! ye desarve pining fro' this to Churstmas, flinging t' precious gifts o'God under fooit i' yer flaysome rages! But I'm mista'en if ye shew yer sperrit lang. Will Hathecliff bide sich bonny ways, think ye? I nobbut wish he may catch ye i' that plisky. I nobbut wish he may.
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!"
'It's noan Nelly! answered Joseph. 'I sudn't shift for Nelly nasty ill nowt as shoo is. Thank God! shoo cannot stale t' sowl o' nob'dy! Shoo wer niver soa handsome, but what a body mud look at her 'bout winking. It's yon flaysome, graceless quean, that's witched our lad, wi' her bold een and her forrard ways till Nay! it fair brusts my heart!
'T' maister's down i' t' fowld. Go round by th' end o' t' laith, if ye went to spake to him. 'Is there nobody inside to open the door? I hallooed, responsively. 'There's nobbut t' missis; and shoo'll not oppen 't an ye mak' yer flaysome dins till neeght. 'Why? Cannot you tell her whom I am, eh, Joseph? 'Nor-ne me! I'll hae no hend wi't, muttered the head, vanishing.
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!
The intimacy ripened rapidly, and, Mr. Lockwood, on their wedding day there won't be a happier woman in England than myself. Joseph was the only objector, and he appealed to Heathcliff against 'yon flaysome graceless quean, that's witched our lad wi' her bold een and her forrad ways. But after a burst of passion at the news, Mr.
Gooid-for-naught madling! ye desarve pining fro' this to Churstmas, flinging t' precious gifts o' God under fooit i' yer flaysome rages! But I'm mista'en if ye shew yer sperrit lang. Will Hathecliff bide sich bonny ways, think ye? I nobbut wish he may catch ye i' that plisky. I nobbut wish he may."