house. - Good evening, Mrs Morgan. - Leave off your hat. Dai Bando is going to teach you to box, Huw. To fight first. Too many call themselves boxers who are not even fighters. - Boxing is an art, is it? - It is, it is. Go along with you, girl. A cup of tea for the men. - Tea? - Tea? No tea, Mrs Morgan. In training, he is. A glass of beer, if you please. Baths full of holes. And now prizefighters. So our little coal miner has been indulging in his favourite sport again? - Mr Phillips, make a back. Make a back. - I refuse, sir. Mr Wells, make a back. Here. Put this in between your teeth. Bite it hard. Well, the scholar. - Huw, lad. - Well, I will go to my death. - Did you get that in school? - He has cut you to the bone. Who was it? - Mr Jonas, is it? - We'll have a word with Mr Jonas. - No. - And why not? - I broke the rule when I fought. - There is no rule for that. - But he warned me. - Rubbish, boy. I'll... Hush, Davy. This is Huw's affair. He shall decide. Say the word, lad, and we will have the bones hot from his flesh. No. Leave him alone. I think our baby brother is becoming quite a man. These denominations are used in measuring distances and... - Yes? - Right. - Good morning, Mr... - Jonas. Mr Jonas. We have come to the right place indeed. What can I do for you? A man is never too old to learn, is it, Mr Jonas? - No. - I was in school myself once. - But no great one for knowledge. - Look here, what do you want? Knowledge. How would you go about taking the measurement of a stick, Mr Jonas? - By its length, of course. - And how would you measure a man who would use a stick on a boy one third his size? - Tell us. - Now, you are good in the use of a stick. But boxing is my subject, to the rules laid down by the good Marquess of Queensberry. God rest his soul. And happy I am to pass on my knowledge to you. Mr Mottshill. Mr Mottshill. All right, get him into position, now. Look, to make a good boxer, you must have a good right hand. You see? Now, that is how you will punish your man, with a right and a left. And put your soul into it, with... The gentleman is talking to you. - Raise him up. - Come, come, come. Up, up, up. Position again. Could I have your attention, boys and girls? I am not accustomed to speaking in public... - Only public houses. - But this... Never use. It's against the rules. Break a man's nose. Now the... - I'm afraid he will never make a boxer. - No aptitude for knowledge. Mr Gruffydd. Ivor... fell under a tram, lower level. Ivor! - We have our first grandson, Gwil. - Well, give one and take the other. Tell that to that girl up there. She will answer you. - Hist now, Beth. Do not kindle the wrath. - To hell with the wrath. And I'm saying it plain to be heard. 'Tis good. With honours, then. Our son is a scholar. What is it, Huw? I can't make sense with it. - Latin, it is. - Latin, is it? Why not good Welsh, or even English? - It is the fashion. - Fashion. Frenchies, decimal points, and bathtubs full of holes. My poor Huw. They've stuffed your head with Latin, then? - Beth, my old beauty, you. A black eye, is it? - Go ahead, shout. Wake up the baby, then. There is beautiful. The image of my father, he is. What bloody nonsense. Now then, Huw. What will it be? To Cardiff to school, then the university to be a lawyer, is it, or a doctor? Dr Huw Morgan. Well, Uncle Huw, that will be something special. Yes, indeed, with a lovely horse and trap, and a good black suit and a shirt with starch. There is good, my little one. Now, a glass of buttermilk for you, with all your knowledge. Yes, Mother. And some of Bron's shortcake. And my shortcake is to be fed to the pigs, is it? No. Only I finished yours yesterday, and today is shortcake day with Bron. I'm sorry, Huw. Only currant bread I made today. Nobody to eat it now. Mother. I am lonely without him. I put his boots and clothes ------------------------------ Читайте также: - текст Дитя человеческое на английском - текст Кин-Дза-Дза на английском - текст Код апокалипсиса на английском - текст Кидалы на английском - текст Роджер и я на английском |