| (1, 0) 18 | Talking like an old granny you are, girl, and you've only been married a month. |
| (1, 0) 21 | If you don't want to darn my holes, Catrin fach, there's mother will do it and be thankful. |
| (1, 0) 22 | She's not at all willing for another woman to be mending my clothes. |
| (1, 0) 23 | Very upset she was, I can tell you. |
| (1, 0) 30 | I remember it well, cariad. |
| (1, 0) 31 | At the big Singing Meeting it was, in the field behind Capel Mair, on Whit-Monday, last year. |
| (1, 0) 37 | Oh! |
| (1, 0) 38 | I went to the barber's this morning after selling the black pony, like you told me. |
| (1, 0) 40 | It's a queer thing, Catrin, I didn't see you till Whit-Monday. |
| (1, 0) 41 | How could I have been near you and not seen you? |
| (1, 0) 43 | Well, Catrin fach, how could I write poetry about them if I didn't look at them now and then? |
| (1, 0) 44 | And poets must write verses about girls. |
| (1, 0) 45 | They all do. |
| (1, 0) 47 | Myfanwy? |
| (1, 0) 49 | Well, let me see, now. |
| (1, 0) 50 | Her hair was Mary Ann Jones's, but her eyes were Mari Llewelyn's─blue, blue like the sky, only with eyelashes like Elin the Mill, not light like Mari's. |
| (1, 0) 52 | Then, she was tall─about the size of your sister Gwennie, and she had small hands like the girl at the Post Office, and a mouth like the one that used to sit behind the big pew in chapel─I never heard her name, but she had a sort of puce bonnet, and a mouth like a clove carnation. |
| (1, 0) 59 | Why should I stop, Catrin fach? |
| (1, 0) 60 | I think poetry is the only way of telling the truth about some things like─like─ Well, the first time I saw you in the field at Capel Mair I felt as if I was turning the corner at Trecoon, and seeing the May tree there all in flower. |
| (1, 0) 61 | So I made it into three verses, and it took the prize at the Penlan Eisteddfod. |
| (1, 0) 64 | Indeed, I couldn't say. |
| (1, 0) 66 | Ten shillings. |
| (1, 0) 71 | Caton pawb, Catrin, an ignorant fellow like me in the National Eisteddfod? |
| (1, 0) 72 | It's joking you are. |
| (1, 0) 75 | And what would you do with the twenty pounds? |
| (1, 0) 76 | Buy a new sofa? |
| (1, 0) 80 | There's a wonderful lot of sense you've got, Catrin, for a bit of a girl. |
| (1, 0) 81 | How much did you put in this week? |
| (1, 0) 85 | You didn't make |her| pay a penny each, did you, Catrin? |
| (1, 0) 86 | She always had them very cheap with mother, being she's a widow with eight children. |
| (1, 0) 89 | Yes; that's true. |
| (1, 0) 90 | They're telling me that Emrys is getting 21s. a week at the pit. |
| (1, 0) 91 | They can't be doing so badly now. |
| (1, 0) 92 | But you let her have them cheaper next time, Catrin fach, there's a good girl. |
| (1, 0) 96 | The children? |
| (1, 0) 101 | No, no, cariad; I never heard so. |
| (1, 0) 108 | Diws anwyl, girl, I never thought of Lizzie Ann Morris for a minute, and I'm sure Lizzie Ann never thought of me. |
| (1, 0) 112 | Yes? |
| (1, 0) 114 | Was he, fach? |
| (1, 0) 115 | What did he want? |
| (1, 0) 118 | But we don't want to sell the old coffer, Catrin. |
| (1, 0) 119 | It's been with the Pensarn people for hundreds of years. |
| (1, 0) 121 | Well? |
| (1, 0) 123 | You couldn't meet a better, fair play to Sir Watkin. |
| (1, 0) 127 | I'll lift it for you whenever you want. |
| (1, 0) 129 | Well, I must see what mother says about it first. |
| (1, 0) 133 | If she isn't willing I can't let Sir Watkin have it, that's all. |
| (1, 0) 134 | Fair play to mother, it came from Pensarn─her old home─and she's polished it herself for thirty years. |
| (1, 0) 147 | I don't know, indeed, cariad, after Benwen falling into the quarry. |
| (1, 0) 148 | There's a loss of £20 to us. |
| (1, 0) 150 | I'd be ashamed to ask, Catrin. |
| (1, 0) 151 | He's only just given us new gates for the fields. |
| (1, 0) 156 | What did you tell him? |
| (1, 0) 160 | And the lid's so heavy, you can't lift it? |
| (1, 0) 161 | CATRIN |
| (1, 0) 163 | Yes, indeed. |
| (1, 0) 164 | And, after all, there isn't room for it in the parlour. |
| (1, 0) 167 | Well, perhaps─Sir Watkin's a good landlord, it would be a pity not to please him. |
| (1, 0) 169 | Well, after all, you're mistress of Dorwen now. |
| (1, 0) 170 | Mother's had her day, and ought to be content. |
| (1, 0) 171 | Thirty years is a long time. |
| (1, 0) 174 | Yes. |
| (1, 0) 175 | Mind you, I wouldn't sell it to any man but Sir Watkin. |
| (1, 0) 181 | Perhaps we won't get that. |
| (1, 0) 205 | The poor and hungry are always welcome at Dorwen. |
| (1, 0) 214 | Yes, yes, cariad. |
| (1, 0) 223 | Where've you been to get all that on your boots? |
| (1, 0) 228 | That'll do, man. |
| (1, 0) 229 | Sit you down and eat your supper. |
| (1, 0) 240 | Haven't you got a little bit of butter for us, Catrin fach? |
| (1, 0) 260 | Never you mind, old man, if you're not willing to tell. |
| (1, 0) 261 | It's God sends the hungry to our door. |
| (1, 0) 262 | That's what my old grandfather used to say, whatever. |
| (1, 0) 279 | Take you another bit of cheese. |
| (1, 0) 280 | It's good Caerphili. |
| (1, 0) 283 | Where are you going to sleep to-night, man? |
| (1, 0) 284 | You're welcome to a bed here─{catches CATRIN'S eye}─in the barn. |
| (1, 0) 285 | There's plenty of hay in there. |
| (1, 0) 294 | What's the matter? |
| (1, 0) 296 | Here you are, man. |
| (1, 0) 300 | It's a good thing to be smoking by your own kitchen fire and the hay all in. |
| (1, 0) 305 | And there's the tree I was telling you about, at the corner by Trecoon. |
| (1, 0) 319 | Now's the time to sing a song, if you're willing. |
| (1, 0) 321 | Very good, very good, indeed. |
| (1, 0) 322 | You must have been a fine singer in your time. |
| (1, 0) 326 | I'm sorry in my heart to see a good singer like you tramping the roads in rags, and you older than my own father. |
| (1, 0) 344 | And a few sheep calling. |
| (1, 0) 363 | Where's your hurry, man? |
| (1, 0) 364 | Sing one more song before you go. |
| (1, 0) 365 | ''Mentra Gwen'' or ''Gwenith Gwyn ''─ |
| (1, 0) 369 | Were you never young yourself, man? |
| (1, 0) 387 | Thank you, thank you. |
| (1, 0) 388 | That's the kind of song for me. |
| (1, 0) 394 | And a very good song for a wedding. |
| (1, 0) 399 | A bad girl she is, then; and he's a fool. |
| (1, 0) 401 | My Catrin is only twenty. |
| (1, 0) 407 | Yes, indeed. |
| (1, 0) 408 | To marry for a pretty face and nothing else with it. |
| (1, 0) 409 | Now, there's my Catrin─one of the best girls in Wales. |
| (1, 0) 410 | She got the medal in the Scripture examination! |
| (1, 0) 411 | And clever─you never tasted such butter as she makes. |
| (1, 0) 419 | Every week. |
| (1, 0) 420 | And pretty, too, mind you─the prettiest girl between here and Brecon. |
| (1, 0) 422 | At least I never saw a prettier. |
| (1, 0) 424 | I'm the happiest man in Glamorgan. |
| (1, 0) 433 | It's a pity when a man's wife brings a bad name on his house. |
| (1, 0) 436 | Then he's a fool, too. |
| (1, 0) 445 | She's one of those big stout women, I suppose; as strong as a horse. |
| (1, 0) 451 | No, indeed; fair play to Catrin. |
| (1, 0) 452 | She's not the kind of woman that wants to lead her husband by the nose─Catrin fach. |
| (1, 0) 453 | It's I'm the master at Dorwen. |
| (1, 0) 458 | Some women are like that, I've been told, but it isn't every man that can be taken in so easy. |
| (1, 0) 461 | Well, it made him happy, I suppose, after all. |
| (1, 0) 467 | A four-leaved clover! |
| (1, 0) 475 | But nobody wants to put spells on me. |
| (1, 0) 484 | You're welcome to sleep in the barn─{hesitating}─or in the house. |
| (1, 0) 485 | CATRIN |
| (1, 0) 487 | There's no room in the house, Ianto. |
| (1, 0) 498 | It's a pity you can be so hard to an old man, grudging him a bit of butter on his bread, and all for the sake of 2d. a pound. |
| (1, 0) 501 | Well, if you couldn't give him butter to eat, you could have given him a kind word now and again. |
| (1, 0) 502 | That wouldn't cost you a penny. |
| (1, 0) 506 | I've been blind, that's all. |
| (1, 0) 513 | What ten pounds are you talking about? |
| (1, 0) 515 | There won't be any ten pounds. |
| (1, 0) 516 | I'm not going to sell the coffer. |
| (1, 0) 520 | It's worse than queer I'd be if I sold the old coffer that my mother brought with her to Dorwen when she came here thirty vears ago, and that belonged to her mother and her grandmother before her─for the sake of a few old pounds. |
| (1, 0) 523 | There you are again! |
| (1, 0) 524 | Money is all you think about, and you a young girl. |
| (1, 0) 525 | Can't you pity poor mother thinking the world of the old coffer and crying when you talked about selling it? |
| (1, 0) 529 | And get more money for it. |
| (1, 0) 530 | And you making a widow with eight children pay the full price for a few eggs! |
| (1, 0) 534 | It's a burden too heavy for a boy of fifteen. |
| (1, 0) 535 | I don't want it to be said that Dorwen was squeezing the last half-penny out of Lizzie Morgan. |
| (1, 0) 536 | Dorwen people haven't had the name for meanness up till now. |
| (1, 0) 538 | It's a good thing to be thrifty, but it's a bad thing to be putting a price on everything, even the verses that a man makes for his own delight. |
| (1, 0) 539 | And worse and worse you'll be every day of your life. |
| (1, 0) 541 | I can see you an old woman, sitting in the market all day to sell six-penn'orth of sour apples, and the rain coming down─ |
| (1, 0) 549 | Catrin ─Catrin fach─what was I saying now just? |
| (1, 0) 553 | About what? |
| (1, 0) 554 | I can't remember. |
| (1, 0) 555 | There's a mist in my head. |
| (1, 0) 559 | Caton pawb! |
| (1, 0) 561 | Catrin!─Catrin! |
| (1, 0) 565 | Don't you remember that old nonsense, cariad. |
| (1, 0) 566 | Thinking I was of some old woman that the fiddler spoke about─not you at all. |
| (1, 0) 570 | No, cariad, of course not. |
| (1, 0) 572 | No, indeed. |
| (1, 0) 573 | You're the best little wife a man ever had. |
| (1, 0) 575 | And the cleverest manager─{kisses her again}─and the prettiest girl in all Wales. |
| (1, 0) 578 | Prettier than twenty Myfanwys. |
| (1, 0) 581 | The coffer, fach? |
| (1, 0) 582 | We're going to let Sir Watkin have it. |
| (1, 0) 584 | It would be a good thing to oblige Sir Watkin─and we want a new cow more than the old coffer─and it's too big and heavy for you to keep blankets in─so, Catrin fach, we'd better sell it. |
| (1, 0) 587 | Mother ─well, after all, cariad, it's you're mistress of Dorwen now─not mother. |
| (1, 0) 592 | Oh! only some old rubbish of a four-leaved clover the fiddler gave me to put in my coat. |
| (1, 0) 596 | Well, indeed, Catrin, I think he was the diawl himself. |