A Ryght Pithy, Pleasaunt and merie Comedie: Intytuled Gammer gurtons Nedle: Played on Stage, not longe ago in Christes Colledge in Cambridge

As Gammer Gurton with manye a wyde styche Sat pesynge and patching of Hodg her mans briche, By chance or misfortune, as shee her geare tost, In Hodge lether bryches her needle shee lost. When Diccon the bedlem had hard by report 5 That good Gammer Gurton was robde in thys sorte, He quyetly perswaded with her in that stound[657] Dame Chat, her deare gossyp, this needle had found; Yet knew shee no more of this matter, alas! Then knoeth Tom, our clarke, what the priest saith at masse. 10 Hereof there ensued so fearfull a fraye, Mas[658] Doctor was sent for, these gossyps to staye, Because he was curate, and estemed full wyse; Who found that he sought not, by Diccons device. When all thinges were tombled and cleane out of fassion, 15 Whether it were by fortune, or some other constellacion, Sodenlye the neele Hodge found by the prickynge, And drew it out of his bottocke, where he felt it stickynge. Theyr hartes then at rest with perfect securytie, With a pot of good nale they stroake up theyr plauditie. 20

Diccon. Many a myle have I walked, divers and sundry waies, And many a good mans house have I bin at in my daies; Many a gossips cup in my tyme have I tasted, And many a broche[659] and spyt have I both turned and basted; Many a peece of bacon have I had out of thir balkes, 5 In ronnyng over the countrey, with long and were walkes; Yet came my foote never within those doore cheekes, To seeke flesh or fysh, garlyke, onyons, or leeke[s], That ever I saw a sorte[660] in such a plyght As here within this house appereth to my syght. 10 There is howlynge and scowlyng, all cast in a dumpe, With whewling and pewling, as though they had lost a trump. A ii b Syghing and sobbing, they weepe and they wayle; I marvell in my mynd what the devill they ayle. The olde trot syts groning, with alas! and alas! 15 And Tib wringes her hands, and takes on in worse case. With poore Cocke, theyr boye, they be dryven in such fyts, I feare mee the folkes be not well in theyr wyts. Aske them what they ayle, or who brought them in this staye, They aunswer not at all, but "alacke!" and "welaway!" 20 Whan I saw it booted not, out at doores I hyed mee, And caught a slyp of bacon, when I saw that none spyed mee, Which I intend not far hence, unles my purpose fayle, Shall serve for a shoinghorne to draw on two pots of ale.

Hodge. See! so cham[661] arayed with dablynge in the durt! She that set me to ditchinge, ich wold she hat the squrt! Was never poore soule that such a life had. Gogs bones! thys vylthy glaye hase drest me to bad! Gods soule! see how this stuffe teares! 5 Iche were better to bee a bearward and set to keepe beares! By the Masse, here is a gasshe, a shamefull hole in deade! And one stytch teare furder, a man may thrust in his heade. Diccon. By my fathers soule, Hodge, if I shoulde now be sworne, I can not chuse but say thy breech is foule betorne, 10 But the next remedye in such a case and hap Is to plaunche on a piece as brode as thy cap. Hodge. Gogs soule, man, tis not yet two dayes fully ended Synce my dame Gurton, chem sure, these breches amended; But cham made suc[h]e a drudge to trudge at euery neede, 15 Chwold rend it though it were stitched with[662] sturdy pacthreede. Diccon. Ho[d]ge, let thy breeches go, and speake and tell mee soone What devill ayleth Gammer Gurton & Tib her mayd to frowne. Hodge. Tush, man, thart deceyved: tys theyr dayly looke; They coure so over the coles, theyre eyes be bleared with smooke. 20 Diccon. Nay, by the masse, I perfectly perceived, as I came hether, That eyther Tib and her dame hath ben by the eares together, Or els as great a matter, as thou shalt shortly see. Hodge. Now, iche beseeche our Lord they never better agree! Diccon. By Gogs soule, there they syt as still as stones in the streite, As though they had ben taken with fairies, or els with some il sprite. 26 Hodge. Gogs hart! I durst have layd my cap to a crowne Chwould lerne of some prancome as sone as ich came to town. Diccon. Why, Hodge, art thou inspyred? or dedst thou therof here? Hodge. Nay, but ich saw such a wonder as ich saw nat this seven yere. 30 Tome Tannkards cow, be Gogs bones! she set me up her saile, And flynging about his halfe aker[663] fysking with her taile, As though there had ben in her ars a swarme of bees, And chad not cryed "tphrowh, hoore," shead lept out of his lees. Diccon. Why, Hodg, lies the connyng in Tom Tankards cowes taile? 35 Hodge. Well, ich chave hard some say such tokens do not fayle. Bot ca[n]st thou not tell,[664] in faith, Diccon, why she frownes, or wher at? Hath no man stolne her ducks or hen[n]es, or gelded Gyb, her cat? Diccon. What devyll can I tell, man? I cold not have one word! They gave no more hede to my talk than thow woldst to a lorde. Hodge. Iche cannot styll but muse, what mervaylous thinge it is. Chyll in and know my selfe what matters are amys. 42 Diccon. Then fare well, Hodge, a while, synce thou doest inward hast, For I will into the good wyfe Chats, to feele how the ale doth taste.

Hodge. Cham agast; by the masse, ich wot not what to do. Chad nede blesse me well before ich go them to. Perchaunce some felon sprit may haunt our house indeed; And then chwere but a noddy to venter where cha no neede. Tyb. Cham worse then mad, by the masse, to be at this staye! 5 Cham chyd, cham blamd, and beaton, all thoures on the daye; Lamed and honger-storved, prycked up all in jagges, Havyng no patch to hyde my backe, save a few rotten ragges! Hodge. I say, Tyb—if thou be Tyb, as I trow sure thou bee,— What devyll make a doe is this, betweene our dame and thee? 10 Tyb. Gogs breade, Hodg, thou had a good turne thou wart not here [this while]! A iii b It had been better for some of us to have ben hence a myle; My gammer is so out of course and frantyke all at ones, That Cocke, our boy, and I, poore wench, have felt it on our bones. Hodge. What is the matter—say on, Tib—wherat she taketh so on? 15 Tyb. She is undone, she sayth, alas! her joye and life is gone! If shee here not of some comfort, she is, fayth![665] but dead; Shal never come within her lyps one inch of meate ne bread. Hodge. Byr Ladie, cham not very glad to see her in this dumpe. Cholde[666] a noble her stole hath fallen, & shee hath broke her rumpe. 20 Tyb. Nay, and that were the worst, we wold not greatly care For bursting of her huckle bone, or breaking of her chaire; But greatter, greater, is her grief, as, Hodge, we shall all feele! Hodge. Gogs woundes, Tyb! my gammer has never lost her neele? Tyb. Her neele! Hodge. Her neele! 25 Tyb. Her neele! By him that made me, it is true, Hodge, I tell thee. Hodge. Gogs sacrament, I would she had lost tharte out of her bellie! The Devill, or els his dame, they ought[667] her, sure, a shame! How a murryon came this chaunce, say, Tib! unto our dame? Tyb. My gammer sat her downe on her pes,[668] and bad me reach thy breeches, 30 And by and by (a vengeance in it!) or she had take two stitches To clap a clout upon thine ars, by chaunce asyde she leares, And Gyb, our cat, in the milke pan she spied over head and eares. "Ah, hore! out, thefe!" she cryed aloud, and swapt the breches downe. 34 Up went her staffe, and out leapt Gyb at doors into the towne, And synce that tyme was never wyght cold set their eies upon it. Gogs malison chave (Cocke and I) bid twenty times light on it. Hodge. And is not then my breeches sewid up, to morow that I shuld were? Tyb. No, in faith, Hodge, thy breeches lie for al this never the nere. Hodge. Now a vengeance light on al the sort, that better shold have kept it, 40 The cat, the house, and Tib, our maid, that better shold have swept it! Se where she cometh crawling! Come on, in twenty devils way! Ye have made a fayre daies worke, have you not? pray you, say!

Gammer. Alas, Hoge, alas! I may well cursse and ban A iv This daie, that ever I saw it, with Gyb and the mylke pan; For these and ill lucke togather, as knoweth Cocke, my boye, Have stacke away my deare neele, and robd me of my joye, My fayre long strayght neele, that was myne onely treasure; 5 The fyrst day of my sorow is, and last end of my pleasure! Hodge. Might ha kept it when ye had it! but fooles will be fooles styll. Lose that is vast in your handes ye neede not but ye will. Gammer. Go hie the, Tib, and run thou, hoore, to thend here of the towne![669] Didst cary out dust in thy lap; seeke wher thou porest it downe, 10 And as thou sawest me roking, in the ashes where I morned, So see in all the heape of dust thou leave no straw unturned. Tyb. That chal, Gammer, swythe and tyte,[670] and sone be here agayne! Gammer. Tib, stoope & loke downe to the ground to it, and take some paine. Hodge. Here is a prety matter, to see this gere how it goes; 15 By Gogs soule, I thenk you wold loes your ars, and it were loose! Your neele lost, it is pitie you shold lack care and endlesse sorow. Gogs deth! how shall my breches be sewid? Shall I go thus to morow? Gammer. Ah Hodg, Hodg! if that ich cold find my neele, by the reed, Chould sow thy breches, ich promise the, with full good double threed, 20 And set a patch on either knee shuld last this monethes twaine. Now God and good Saint Sithe[671] I praye to send it home againe! Hodge. Wherto served your hands and eies, but this your neele to kepe? What devill had you els to do? ye kept, ich wot, no sheepe! Cham fame abrode to dyg and delve, in water, myre, and claye, 25 Sossing and possing in the durte styll from day to daye. A hundred thinges that be abrode, cham set to see them weele, And four of you syt idle at home, and can not keepe a neele! Gammer. My neele! alas! ich lost it, Hodge, what time ich me up hasted To save the milke set up for the, which Gib, our cat, hath wasted. 30 Hodge. The Devill he burst both Gib and Tib, with al the rest! Cham alwayes sure of the worst end, who ever have the best! Where ha you ben fidging abrode, since you your neele lost? Gammer. Within the house, and at the dore, sitting by this same post, Wher I was loking a long howre, before these folks came here; 35 But welaway, all was in vayne, my neele is never the nere! Hodge. Set me a candle, let me seeke, and grope where ever it bee. Gogs hart, ye be so folish, ich thinke, you knowe it not when you it see! Gammer. Come hether, Cocke; what, Cocke, I say! Cocke. Howe, Gammer? Gammer. Goe, hye the soone, And grope behynd the old brasse pan, whych thing when thou hast done, 40 Ther shall thou fynd an old shooe, wherein if thou look well, Thou shalt fynd lyeng an inche of a whyte tallow candell. Lyght it, and bryng it tite away. Cocke. That shalbe done anone. Gammer. Nay, tary, Hodge, till thou hast light, and then weele seke ech one. 45 Hodge. Cum away, ye horson boy, are ye aslepe? ye must have a crier! Cocke. Ich cannot get the candel light: here is almost no fier. Hodge. Chil hold[672] the a peny chil make the come, if that ich may catch thine eares! Art deffe, thou horson boy? Cocke, I say; why canst not heares? Gammer. Beate hym not, Hodge, bul help the boy, and come you two together.

Gammer. How now, Tib? quycke, lets here what newes thou hast brought hether! Tyb. Chave tost and tumbled yender heap our and over againe, And winowed it through my fingers, as men wold winow grain; Not so much as a hens turd but in pieces I tare it, Or what so ever clod or clay I found, I did not spare it, 5 Lokyng within and eke without, to fynd your neele, alas! But all in vaine and without help! your neele is where it was. Gammer. Alas my neele! we shall never meete! adue, adue, for aye! Tyb. Not so, Gammer, we myght it fynd, if we knew where it laye. Cocke. Gogs crosse, Gammer, if ye will laugh, looke in but at the doore, 10 And see how Hodg lieth tombling and tossing amids the floure, Rakyng there some fyre to fynd amonge the asshes dead, Where there is not one sparke so byg as a pyns head; At last in a darke corner two sparkes he thought he sees, Which were indede nought els but Gyb our cats two eyes. 15 "Puffe!" quod Hodg, thinking therby to have fyre without doubt; With that Gyb shut her two eyes, and so the fyre was out; And by and by them opened, even as they were before; With that the sparkes appered, even as they had done of yore; And even as Hodge blew the fire (as he did thinke), 20 Gib, as she felt the blast, strayghtway began to wyncke; Tyll Hodge fell of swering, as came best to his turne, The fier was sure bewicht, and therfore wold not burne. At last Gyb up the stayers, among the old postes and pinnes, And Hodge he hied him after, till broke were both his shinnes; 25 Cursyng and swering othes were never of his makyng, That Gyb wold fyre the house if that shee were not taken. Gammer. See, here is all the thought that the foolysh urchyn taketh! And Tyb, me thinke, at his elbowe almost as mery maketh. This is all the wyt ye have, when others make their mone. 30 Cum downe, Hodge, where art thou? and let the cat alone! Hodge. Gogs harte, help and come up! Gyb in her tayle hath fyre, And is like to burne all, if shee get a lytle hier! Cum downe, quoth you? nay, then you might count me a patch.[673] The house commeth downe on your heads, if it take ons the thatch. 35 Gammer. It is the cats eyes, foole, that shyneth in the darke. Hodge. Hath the cat, do you thinke, in every eye a sparke? Gammer. No, but they shyne as lyke fyre as ever man see. Hodge. By the masse, and she burne all, yoush beare the blame for mee! Gammer. Cum downe and helpe to seeke here our neele, that it were found. 40 Downe, Tyb, on the knees, I say! Downe, Cocke, to the ground! To God I make avowe, and so to good Saint Anne, A candell shall they have a pece, get it where I can, If I may my neele find in one place or in other. Hodge. Now a vengeaunce on Gyb light, on Gyb and Gybs mother, 45 And all the generacyon of cats both far and nere! Loke on this ground, horson, thinks thou the neele is here? Cocke. By my trouth, Gammer, me thought your neele here I saw, But when my fyngers toucht it, I felt it was a straw. Tyb. See, Hodge, whats t[h]ys? may it not be within it? 50 Hodge. Breake it, foole, with thy hand, and see and thou canst fynde it. Tyb. Nay, breake it you, Hodge, accordyng to your word. Hodge. Gogs sydes! fye! it styncks; it is a cats tourd! It were well done to make thee eate it, by the masse! Gammer. This matter amendeth not; my neele is still where it wasse. 55 Our candle is at an ende, let us all in quight, And come another tyme, when we have more lyght.

Backe and syde go bare, go bare, Booth foote and hande go colde; But bellye, God send thee good ale ynoughe, Whether it be newe or olde. I can not eate but lytle meate, My stomacke is not good; But sure I thinke that I can drinke With him that weares a hood. Thoughe I go bare, take ye no care, I am nothinge a colde; I stuffe my skyn so full within Of joly good ale and olde. Backe and syde go bare, go bare, etc. I love no rost but a nut browne toste And a crab layde in the fyre.[675] A lytle bread shall do me stead: Much breade I not desyre. No froste nor snow, no winde, I trowe, Can hurte mee if I wolde; I am so wrapt, and throwly lapt Of joly good ale and olde. Backe and syde go bare, etc. And Tyb my wyfe, that as her lyfe Loveth well good ale to seeke, Full ofte drynkes shee tyll ye may see The teares run downe her cheeke; Then dooth she trowle to mee the bowle Even as a mault worme shuld; And sayth, sweete hart, I tooke my part Of this joly good ale and olde. Backe and syde go bare, etc. Now let them drynke till they nod and winke, Even as good felowes shoulde doe; They shall not miss to have the bliss Good ale doth bringe men to; And all poore soules that have scowred boules, Or have them lustly trolde, God save the lyves of them and theyr wyves, Whether they be yonge or olde. Backe and syde go bare, etc.

Diccon. Well done, by Gogs malt! well songe and well sayde! Come on, mother Chat, as thou art true mayde, One fresh pot of ale lets see, to make an ende Agaynst this colde wether my naked armes to defende! This gere it warms the soule! Now, wind, blow on the worst! 5 And let us drink and swill till that our bellies burste! Now were he a wise man by cunnynge could defyne Which way my journey lyeth, or where Dyccon will dyne! But one good turne I have: be it by nyght or daye, South, east, north or west, I am never out of my waye! 10 Hodge. Chym goodly rewarded, cham I not, do you thyncke? Chad a goodly dynner for all my sweate and swyncke! Neyther butter, cheese, mylke, onyons, fleshe, nor fyshe, Save this poor pece of barly bread: tis a pleasant costly dishe! Diccon. Haile, fellow Hodge, and well[676] to fare with thy meat, if thou have any: 15 But by thy words, as I them smelled, thy daintrels be not manye. Hodge. Daintrels, Diccon? Gogs soule, man, save this piece of dry horsbread, Cha byt no byt this lyvelonge daie, no crome come in my head: My gutts they yawle-crawle, and all my belly rumbleth; The puddynges[677] cannot lye still, each one over other tumbleth. 20 By Gogs harte, cham so vexte, and in my belly pende, Chould one peece were at the spittlehouse, another at the castelle ende! Diccon. Why, Hodge, was there none at home thy dinner for to set? Hodge. Gogs[678] bread, Diccon, ich came to late, was nothing there to get! Gib (a fowle feind might on her light!) lickt the milke pan so clene, 25 See, Diccon, twas not so well washt this seven yere, as ich wene! A pestilence light on all ill lucke! chad thought, yet for all thys Of a morsell of bacon behynde the dore at worst shuld not misse: But when ich sought a slyp to cut, as ich was wont to do, Gogs soule, Diccon! Gyb, our cat, had eate the bacon to! 30

Diccon. Ill luck, quod he! mary, swere it, Hodge! this day, the trueth to tel, Thou rose not on thy ryght syde, or else blest thee not wel. Thy milk slopt up! thy bacon filtched! that was to bad luck, Hodg! Hodge. Nay, nay, ther was a fowler fault, my Gammer ga me the dodge;[679] Seest not how cham rent and torn, my heels, my knees, and my breech? 35 Chad thought, as ich sat by the fire, help here and there a stitch: But there ich was powpt[680] indeede. Diccon. Why, Hodge? Hodge. Bootes not, man, to tell. Cham so drest amongst a sorte of fooles, chad better be in hell. My gammer (cham ashamed to say), by God, served me not weele. Diccon. How so, Hodge? Hodge. Has she not gone, trowest now, and lost her neele? Diccon. Her eele, Hodge? Who fysht of late? That was a dainty dysh! 41 Hodge. Tush, tush, her neele, her neele, her neele, man! tis neither flesh nor fysh; A lytle thing with an hole in the end, as bright as any syller, Small, longe, sharpe at the poynt, and straight as any pyller. Diccon. I know not what a devil thou meenst, thou bringst me more in doubt. 45 Hodge. Knowst not with what Tom Tailers man sits broching throughe a clout? A neele, a neele, a neele! my gammer's neele is gone. Diccon. Her neele, Hodge? now I smel thee! that was a chaunce alone! By the masse, thou hast a shamefull losse, and it wer but for thy breches. Hodge. Gogs soule, man, chould give a crown chad it but three stitches. 50 Diccon. How sayest thou, Hodge? What shuld he have, again thy nedle got? Hodge. Bern vathers soule, and chad it, chould give him a new grot. Diccon. Canst thou keep counsaile in this case? Hodge. Else chwold my tonge[681] were out. Diccon. Do than but then by my advise, and I will fetch it without doubt. Hodge. Chyll runne, chyll ryde, chyll dygge, chyl delve, chill toyle, chill trudge, shalt see; 55 Chill hold, chil drawe, chil pull, chill pynche, chill kneele on my bare knee; Chill scrape, chill scratche, chill syfte, chill seeke, chill bowe, chill bende, chill sweate, Chill stoop, chil stur, chil cap, chil knele, chil crepe on hands and feete; Chill be thy bondman, Diccon, ich sweare by sunne and moone. And channot sumwhat to stop this gap, cham utterly undone! 60

Diccon. Why, is there any special cause thou takest hereat such sorow? Hodge. Kirstian Clack, Tom Simpsons maid, by the masse, coms hether to morow, Cham not able to say, betweene us what may hap; She smyled on me the last Sunday, when ich put of my cap. Diccon. Well, Hodge, this is a matter of weight, and must be kept close, 65 It might els turne to both our costes, as the world now gose. Shalt sware to be no blab, Hodge! Hodge. Chyll, Diccon. Diccon. Then go to, Lay thine hand here; say after me as thou shal here me do. Haste no booke? Hodge. Cha no booke, I! Diccon. Then needes must force us both, Upon my breech to lay thine hand, and there to take thine othe. Hodge. I, Hodge, breechelesse 71 Sweare to Diccon, rechelesse, By the crosse that I shall kysse, To keep his counsaile close, And alwayes me to dispose 75 To worke that his pleasure is. (Here he kysseth Diccons breech.) Diccon. Now, Hodge, see thou take heede, And do as I thee byd; For so I judge it meete; This nedle again to win, 80 There is no shift therin But conjure up a spreete. Hodge. What, the great devill, Diccon, I saye? Diccon. Yea, in good faith, that is the waye. Fet with some prety charme. 85 Hodge. Soft, Diccon, be not to hasty yet, By the masse, for ich begyn to sweat! Cham afrayde of some[682] harme. Diccon. Come hether, then, and sturre the nat One inche out of this cyrcle plat, 90 But stande as I thee teache. Hodge. And shall ich be here safe from theyr clawes? Diccon. The mayster devill with his longe pawes Here to the can not reache. Now will I settle me to this geare. 95 Hodge. I saye, Diccon, heare me, heare! Go softely to thys matter! Diccon. What devyll, man? art afraide of nought? Hodge. Canst not tarrye a lytle thought Tyll ich make a curtesie of water? 100 Diccon. Stand still to it; why shuldest thou feare hym? Hodge. Gogs sydes, Diccon, me thinke ich heare him! And tarrye, chal mare all! Diccon. The matter is no worse than I tolde it. Hodge. By the masse, cham able no longer to holde it! 105 To bad! iche must beray the hall! Diccon. Stand to it, Hodge! sture not, you horson! What devyll, be thine ars strynges brusten? Thyselfe a while but staye, The devill (I smell hym) will be here anone. 110 Hodge. Hold him fast, Diccon, cham gone! cham gone! Chyll not be at that fraye!

Diccon. Fy, shytten knave, and out upon thee! Above all other loutes, fye on thee! Is not here a clenly prancke? But thy matter was no better, Nor thy presence here no sweter, 5 To flye I can the thanke.[683] Here is a matter worthy glosynge, Of Gammer Gurton nedle losynge, And a foule peece of warke! A man I thyncke myght make a playe, 10 And nede no worde to this they saye, Being but halfe a clarke. Softe, let me alone! I will take the charge This matter further to enlarge Within a tyme shone. 15 If ye will marke my toyes, and note, I will geve ye leave to cut my throte If I make not good sporte. Dame Chat, I say, where be ye? within? Chat. Who have we there maketh such a din? 20 Diccon. Here is a good fellow, maketh no great daunger. Chat. What, Diccon? Come nere, ye be no straunger. We be fast set at trumpe, man, hard by the fyre; Thou shall set on the king, if thou come a little nyer. Diccon. Nay, nay, there is no tarying; I must be gone againe. 25 But first for you in councel I have a word or twain. Chat. Come hether, Dol! Dol, sit downe and play this game, And as thou sawest me do, see thou do even the same. There is five trumps beside the queene, the hindmost thou shalt finde her. Take hede of Sim Glovers wife, she hath an eie behind her! 30 Now, Diccon, say your will. Diccon. Nay, softe a little yet; I wold not tel it my sister, the matter is so great. There I wil have you sweare by our dere Lady of Bullaine, Saint Dunstone, and Saint Donnyke, with the three kings of Kullaine, That ye shal keepe it secret. Chat. Gogs bread! that will I doo! 35 As secret as mine owne thought, by God and the devil two! Diccon, Here is Gammer Gurton, your neighbour, a sad and hevy wight: Her goodly faire red cock at home was stole this last night. Chat, Gogs soul! her cock with the yelow legs, that nightly crowed so just? Diccon. That cock is stollen. Chat. What, was he fet out of the hens ruste? 40 Diccon. I can not tel where the devil he was kept, under key or locke; But Tib hath tykled in Gammers eare, that you shoulde steale the cocke. Chat. Have I, stronge hoore? by bread and salte!— Diccon. What, softe, I say, be styl! Say not one word for all this geare. Chat. By the masse, that I wyl! I wil have the yong hore by the head, & the old trot by the throte. 45 Diccon. Not one word, Dame Chat, I say; not one word, for my cote! Chat. Shall such a begars brawle[684] as that, thinkest thou, make me a theefe? The pocks light on her hores sydes, a pestlence and a mischeefe! Come out, thou hungry nedy bytche! O that my nails be short! Diccon. Gogs bred, woman, hold your peace! this gere wil els passe sport! 50 I wold not for an hundred pound this mater shuld be knowen, That I am auctour of this tale, or have abrode it blowen! Did ye not sweare ye wold be ruled, before the tale I tolde? I said ye must all secret keepe, and ye said sure ye wolde. Chat. Wolde you suffer, your selfe, Diccon, such a sort to revile you, 55 With slaunderous words to blot your name, and so to defile you? Diccon. No, Goodwife Chat, I wold be loth such drabs shulde blot my name; But yet ye must so order all that Diccon beare no blame. Chat. Go to, then, what is your rede? say on your minde, ye shall mee rule herein. Diccon. Godamercye to Dame Chat! In faith thou must the gere begin. 60 It is twenty pound to a goose turd, my gammer will not tary, But hether ward she comes as fast as her legs can her cary, To brawle with you about her cocke; for wel I hard Tib say The Cocke was rosted in your house to brea[k]fast yesterday; And when ye had the carcas eaten, the fethers ye out flunge, 65 And Doll, your maid, the legs she hid a foote depe in the dunge. Chat. Oh gracyous God! my harte it[685] burstes! Diccon. Well, rule your selfe a space; And Gammer Gurton when she commeth anon into thys place, Then to the queane, lets see, tell her your mynd and spare not. So shall Diccon blamelesse bee; and then, go to, I care not! 70 Chat. Then, hoore, beware her throte! I can abide no longer. In faith, old witch, it shalbe seene which of us two be stronger! And, Diccon, but at your request, I wold not stay one howre. Diccon. Well, keepe it till she be here, and then out let it powre! In the meane while get you in, and make no wordes of this. 75 More of this matter within this howre to here you shall not misse, Because I knew you are my friend, hide it I cold not, doubtles. Ye know your harm, see ye be wise about your owne busines! So fare ye well.[686] Chat. Nay, soft, Diccon, and drynke! What, Doll, I say! Bringe here a cup of the best ale; lets see, come quicly a waye! 80

Diccon. Ye see, masters, that one end tapt of this my short devise! Now must we broche thot[h]er to, before the smoke arise; And by the time they have a while run, I trust ye need not crave it. But loke, what lieth in both their harts, ye ar like, sure, to have it. Hodge. Yea, Gogs soule, art alive yet? What, Diccon, dare ich come? 5 Diccon. A man is wel hied to trust to thee; I wil say nothing but mum; But and ye come any nearer, I pray you see all be sweete! Hodge. Tush, man, is Gammers neele found? that chould gladly weete. Diccon. She may thanke thee it is not found, for if thou had kept thy standing, The devil he wold have fet it out, even, Hodge, at thy commaunding. 10 Hodge. Gogs hart, and cold he tel nothing wher the neele might be found? Diccon. Ye folysh dolt, ye were to seek, ear we had got our ground; Therefore his tale so doubtfull was that I cold not perceive it. Hodge. Then ich se wel somthing was said, chope[687] one day yet to have it. But Diccon, Diccon, did not the devill cry "ho, ho, ho"? 15 Diccon. If thou hadst taryed where thou stoodst, thou woldest have said so! Hodge. Durst swere of a boke, chard him rore, streight after ich was gon. But tel me, Diccon, what said the knave? let me here it anon. Diccon. The horson talked to mee, I know not well of what. One whyle his tonge it ran and paltered of a cat, 20 Another whyle he stamered styll uppon a Rat; Last of all, there was nothing but every word, Chat, Chat; But this I well perceyved before I wolde him rid, Betweene Chat, and the Rat, and the cat, the nedle is hyd. Now wether Gyb, our cat, have eate it in her mawe, 25 Or Doctor Rat, our curat, have found it in the straw, Or this Dame Chat, your neighbour, have stollen it, God hee knoweth! But by the morow at this time, we shal learn how the matter goeth. Hodge. Canst not learn tonight, man? seest not what is here?

Diccon. Tys not possyble to make it sooner appere. 30 Hodge. Alas, Diccon, then chave no shyft, but—least ich tary to longe— Hye me to Sym Glovers shop, theare to seeke for a thonge, Therwith this breech to tatche and tye as ich may. Diccon. To morow, Hodg, if we chaunce to meete, shall see what I will say.

Diccon. Now this gere must forward goe, for here my gammer commeth. Be still a while and say nothing; make here a little romth.[688] Gammer. Good Lord, shall never be my lucke my neele agayne to spye? Alas, the whyle! tys past my helpe, where tis still it must lye! Diccon. Now, Jesus! Gammer Gurton, what driveth you to this sadnes? 5 I feare me, by my conscience, you will sure fall to madnes. Gammer. Who is that? What, Diccon? cham lost, man! fye, fye! Diccon. Mary, fy on them that be worthy! but what shuld be your troble? Gammer. Alas! the more ich thinke on it, my sorow it waxeth doble. My goodly tossing[689] sporyars[690] neele chave lost ich wot not where. 10 Diccon. Your neele? whan? Gammer. My neele, alas! ich myght full ill it spare, As God him selfe he knoweth, nere one besyde chave. Diccon. If this be all, good Gammer, I warrant you all is save. Gammer. Why, know you any tydings which way my neele is gone? Diccon. Yea, that I do doubtlesse, as ye shall here anone. 15 A see a thing this matter toucheth, within these twenty howres, Even at this gate, before my face, by a neyghbour of yours. She stooped me downe, and up she toke a nedle or a pyn. I durst be sworne it was even yours, by all my mothers kyn. Gammer. It was my neele, Diccon, ich wot; for here, even by this poste, 20 Ich sat, what time as ich up starte, and so my neele it loste. Who was it, leive[691] son? speke, ich pray the, and quickly tell me that! Diccon. A suttle queane as any in thys towne, your neyghboure here, Dame Chat. Gammer. Dame Chat, Diccon? Let me be gone, chil thyther in post haste. Diccon. Take my councell yet or ye go, for feare ye walke in wast. 25 It is a murrion crafty drab, and froward to be pleased; And ye take not the better way, our nedle yet ye lose[692] it: For when she tooke it up, even here before your doores, "What, soft, Dame Chat" (quoth I), "that same is none of yours." "Avant," quoth she, "syr knave! what pratest thou of that I fynd? 30 I wold thou hast kist me I wot whear;" she ment, I know, behind; And home she went as brag as it had ben a bodelouce, And I after, as bold as it had ben the goodman of the house. But there and ye had hard her, how she began to scolde! The tonge it went on patins, by hym that Judas solde! 35 Ech other worde I was a knave, and you a hore of hores, Because I spake in your behalfe, and sayde the neele was yours. Gammer. Gogs bread, and thinks that that callet thus to kepe my neele me fro? Diccon. Let her alone, and she minds non other but even to dresse you so. Gammer. By the masse, chil rather spend the cote that is on my backe! 40 Thinks the false quean by such a slygh[t] that chill my neele lacke? Diccon. Slepe[693] not you[r] gere, I counsell you, but of this take good hede: Let not be knowen I told you of it, how well soever ye spede. Gammer. Chil in, Diccon, a cleene aperne to take and set before me; And ich may my neele once see, chil, sure, remember the! 45

Diccon. Here will the sporte begin; if these two once may meete, Their chere, durst lay money, will prove scarsly sweete. My gammer, sure, entends to be uppon her bones With staves, or with clubs, or els with coble stones. Dame Chat, on the other syde, if she be far behynde 5 I am right far deceived; she is geven to it of kynde.[694] He that may tarry by it awhyle, and that but shorte, I warrant hym, trust to it, he shall see all the sporte. Into the towne will I, my frendes to vysit there, And hether straight againe to see thend of this gere. 10 In the meane time, felowes, pype upp; your fiddles, I saie, take them, And let your freyndes here such mirth as ye can make them.

Hodge. Sym Glover, yet gramercy! cham meetlye well sped now, Thart even as good a felow as ever kyste a cowe! Here is a thonge[695] in dede, by the masse, though ich speake it; Tom Tankards great bald curtal, I thinke, could not breake it! And when he spyed my neede to be so straight and hard, Cii Hays lent me here his naull,[696] to set the gyb forward,[697] 6 As for my gammers neele, the flyenge feynd go weete! Chill not now go to the doore againe with it to meete. Chould make shyfte good inough and chad a candels ende; The cheefe hole in my breeche with these two chil amende. 10

Gammer. Now Hodge, mayst nowe be glade, cha newes to tell thee; Ich knowe who hais my neele; ich trust soone shalt it see. Hodge. The devyll thou does! hast hard, Gammer, in deede, or doest but jest? Gammer. Tys as true as steele, Hodge. Hodge. Why, knowest well where dydst leese it? Gammer. Ich know who found it, and tooke it up! shalt see or it be longe. 5 Hodge. Gods mother dere! if that be true, farwel both naule an thong! But who hais it, Gammer, say on; chould faine here it disclosed. Gammer. That false fixen, that same Dame Chat, that counts her selfe so honest. Hodge. Who tolde you so? Gammer. That same did Diccon the bedlam, which saw it done. Hodge. Diccon? it is a vengeable knave, Gammer, tis a bonable[698] horson, 10 Can do mo things then that, els cham deceyved evill: By the masse, ich saw him of late cal up a great blacke devill! O, the knave cryed "ho, ho!" he roared and he thundred, And yead bene here, cham sure yould murrenly ha wondred. Gammer. Was not thou afraide, Hodge to see him in this place? 15 Hodge. No, and chad come to me, chould have laid him on the face, Chould have, promised him! Gammer. But, Hodge, had he no hornes to pushe? Hodge. As long as your two armes. Saw ye never Fryer Rushe[699] Painted on a cloth, with a side long cowes tayle, And crooked cloven feete, and many a hoked nayle? 20 For al the world, if I shuld judg, chould recken him his brother. Loke, even what face Frier Rush had, the devil had such another. Gammer. Now Jesus mercy, Hodg! did Diccon in him bring? Hodge. Nay Gammer, here me speke, chil tel you a greater thing; The devil (when Diccon had him, ich hard him wondrous weel) 25 Sayd plainly here before us, that Dame Chat had your neele. G[am]mer. Then let us go, and aske her wherfore she minds to kepe it; Seing we know so much, tware a madnes now to slepe it. Hodge. Go to her, Gammer; see ye not where she stands in her doores? Byd her geve you the neele, tys none of hers but yours. 30

Gammer. Dame Chat, cholde praye the fair, let me have that is mine! Chil not this twenty yeres take one fart that is thyne; Therefore give me mine owne, and let me live besyde the. Chat. Why art thou crept from home hether, to mine own doores to chide me? Hence, doting drab, avaunt, or I shall set the further! 5 Intends thou and that knave mee in my house to murther? Gammer. Tush, gape not so on[700] me, woman! shalt not yet eate mee! Nor all the frends thou hast in this shall not intreate mee! Mine owne goods I will have, and aske the no[701] beleve,[702] What, woman! pore folks must have right, though the thing you aggreve. 10 Chat. Give thee thy right, and hang the up, with al thy baggers broode! What, wilt thou make me a theefe, and say I stole thy good? Gammer. Chil say nothing, ich warrant thee, but that ich can prove it well. Thou fet my good even from my doore, cham able this to tel! Chat. Dyd I, olde witche, steale oft[703] was thine? how should that thing be knowen? 15 Gammer. Ich can no tel; but up thou tokest it as though it had ben thine owne, Chat. Mary, fy on thee, thou old gyb, with al my very hart! Gammer. Nay, fy on thee, thou rampe, thou ryg, with al that take thy parte! Chat. A vengeance on those lips that laieth such things to my charge! Gammer. A vengeance on those callats hips, whose conscience is so large! 20 Chat. Come out, hogge! Gammer. Come out, hogge, and let have me right! Chat. Thou arrant witche! Gammer. Thou bawdie bitche, chil make thee cursse this night! Chat. A bag and a wallet! Gammer. A carte for a callet! Chat. Why, wenest thou thus to prevaile? I hold thee a grote, I shall patche thy coate! C iii Gammer. Thou warte as good kysse my tayle! Thou slut, thou kut, thou rakes, thou jakes! will not shame make the hide [the]? 25 Chat. Thou skald, thou bald, thou rotten, thou glotton! I will no longer chyd the, But I will teache the to kepe home. Gammer. Wylt thou, drunken beaste? Hodge. Sticke to her, Gammer! take her by the head, chil warrant you thys feast! Smyte, I saye, Gammer! Byte, I say, Gammer! I trow ye wyll be keene! Where be your nayls? claw her by the jawes, pull me out bothe her eyen. 30 Gogs bones, Gammer, holde up your head! Chat. I trow, drab, I shall dresse thee. Tary, thou knave, I hold the a grote I shall make these hands blesse thee! Take thou this, old hore, for amends, and lerne thy tonge well to tame, And say thou met at this bickering, not thy fellow but thy dame! Hodge. Where is the strong stued hore? chil geare a hores marke! 35 Stand out ones way, that ich kyll none in the darke! Up, Gammer, and ye be alyve! chil feygh[t] now for us bothe. Come no nere me, thou scalde callet! to kyll the ich wer loth. Chat. Art here agayne, thou hoddy peke? what, Doll! bryng me out my spitte. Hodge. Chill broche thee wyth this, bim father soule, chyll conjure that foule sprete! 40 Let dore stand, Cock! why coms, in deede? kepe dore, thou horson boy! Chat. Stand to it, thou dastard, for thine eares, ise teche the, a sluttish toye! Hodge. Gogs woundes, hore, chil make the avaunte! take heede, Cocke, pull in the latche! Chat. Ifaith, sir Loose-breche, had ye taried, ye shold have found your match! Gammer. Now ware thy throte, losell, thouse paye[704] for al! Hodge. Well said, Gammer, by my soule. 45 Hoyse her, souse her, bounce her, trounce her, pull out her throte boule! Chat. Comst behynd me, thou withered witch? and I get once on foote Thouse pay for all, thou old tarlether! ile teach the what longs to it! Take the this to make up thy mouth, til time thou come by more! Hodge. Up, Gammer, stande on your feete; where is the olde hore? 50 Faith, woulde chad her by the face, choulde cracke her callet crowne! Gammer. A Hodg, Hodg, where was thy help, when fixen had me downe? Hodge. By the masse, Gammer, but for my staffe Chat had gone nye to spyl you! Ich think the harlot had not cared, and chad not com, to kill you. But shall we loose our neele thus? Gammer. No Hodge chwarde[705] lothe doo soo, 55 Thinkest thou chill take that at her hand? no, Hodg, ich tell the no! Hodge. Chold yet this fray wer wel take up, and our neele at home. Twill be my chaunce else some to kil, wher ever it be or whome! Gammer. We have a parson, Hodge, thou knoes, a man estemed wise, Mast Doctor Rat; chil for hym send, and let me here his advise. 60 He will her shrive for all this gere, and geve her penaunce strait; Wese[706] have our neele, els Dame Chat comes nere within heaven gate. Hodge. Ye, mary, Gammer, that ich think best; wyll you now for him send? The sooner Doctor Rat be here, the soner wese ha an ende, And here, Gammer! Dyccons devill, as iche remember well, 65 Of cat, and Chat, and Doctor Rat, a felloneus tale dyd tell. Chold you forty pound, that is the way your neele to get againe. Gammer. Chil ha him strait! Call out the boy, wese make him take the payn. Hodge. What, Co[c]ke, I saye! come out! What devill! canst not here? Cocke. How now, Hodg? how does Gammer, is yet the wether cleare? 70 What wold chave[707] me to do? Gammer. Come hether, Cocke, anon! Hence swythe[708] to Doctor Rat, hye the that thou were gone, And pray hym come speke with me, cham not well at ease. Shalt have him at his chamber, or els at Mother Bees; Els seeke him at Hob Fylchers shop, for as charde it reported, 75 There is the best ale in al the towne, and now is most resorted. Cocke. And shall ich brynge hym with me, Gammer? Gammer. Yea, by and by, good Cocke. Cocke. Shalt see that shal be here anone, els let me have on the docke.[709] Hodge. Now, Gammer, shall we two go in, and tary for hys commynge? What devill, woman! plucke up your hart, and leve of al this glomming.[710] 80 Though she were stronger at the first, as ich thinke ye did find her, Yet there ye drest the dronken sow, what time ye cam behind her. Gammer. Nay, nay, cham sure she lost not all, for, set thend to the beginning, And ich doubt not but she will make small bost of her winning.

Tyb. Se, Gammer, Gammer, Gib, our cat, cham afraid what she ayleth; She standes me gasping behind the doore, as though her winde her faileth: Now let ich doubt what Gib shuld mean, that now she doth so dote. Hodge. Hold hether! I chould twenty pound, your neele is in her throte. Grope her, ich say, me thinkes ich feele it; does not pricke your hand? 5 Gammer. Ich can feele nothing. Hodge. No, ich know thars not within this land A muryner cat then Gyb is, betwixt the Tems and Tyne; Shase as much wyt in her head almost as chave in mine! Tyb. Faith, shase eaten some thing, that will not easily downe; Whether she gat it at home, or abrode in the towne 10 Ich can not tell. Gammer. Alas ich feare it be some croked pyn! And then farewell Gyb! she is undone, and lost al save the skyn! Hodge. Tys[711] your neele, woman, I say! Gogs soule! geve me a knyfe, And chil have it out[712] of her mawe, or els chal lose my lyfe! Gammer. What! nay, Hodg, fy! Kil not our cat, tis al the cats we ha now. 15 Hodge. By the masse, Dame Chat hays me so moved,[713] iche care not what I kyll, ma[714] God a vowe! Go to, then, Tyb, to this geare! holde up har tayle and take her! Chil see what devil is in her guts! chil take the paines to rake her! Gammer. Rake a cat, Hodge! what woldst thou do? Hodge. What, thinckst that cham not able? Did not Tom Tankard rake his curtal toore[715] day standing in the stable? 20 Gammer. Soft! be content, lets here what newes Cocke bringeth from Maist Rat. Cocke. Gammer, chave ben ther as you bad, you wot wel about what. Twill not be long before he come, ich durst sweare of a booke. He byds you see ye be at home, and there for him to looke. Gammer. Where didst thou find him, boy? was he not wher I told thee? 25 Cocke. Yes, yes, even at Hob Filchers house, by him that bought and solde me! A cup of ale had in his hand, and a crab lay in the fyer; Chad much a do to go and come, al was so ful of myer. And, Gammer, one thing I can tel, Hob Filchers naule was loste, And Doctor Rat found it againe, hard beside the doore poste. 30 I chould a penny can say something your neele againe to set. Gammer. Cham glad to heare so much, Cocke, then trust he wil not let To helpe us herein best he can; therfore tyl time he come Let us go in; if there be ought to get thou shall have some.

D. Rat. A man were better twenty times be a bandog and barke, Then here among such a sort be parish priest or clarke, Where he shall never be at rest one pissing while a day, But he must trudge about the towne, this way and that way; Here to a drab, there to a theefe, his shoes to teare and rent, 5 And that which is worst of al, at every knaves commaundement! I had not sit the space to drinke two pots of ale, But Gammer Gurtons sory boy was straite way at my taile, And she was sicke, and I must come, to do I wot not what! If once her fingers end but ake, trudge! call for Doctor Rat! 10 And when I come not at their call, I only therby loose; For I am sure to lacke therfore a tythe pyg or a goose. I warrant you, when truth is knowen, and told they have their tale, The matter where about I come is not worth a halfpeny worth of ale; Yet must I talke so sage and smothe, as though I were a glosier 15 Els, or the yere come at an end, I shal be sure the loser. What worke ye, Gammer Gurton? hoow? here is your frend M[ast] Rat. Gammer. A! good M[ast] Doctor! cha trebled, cha trebled you, chwot wel that! D. Rat. How do ye, woman? be ye lustie, or be ye not well at ease? Gammer. By gys, Master, cham not sick, but yet chave a disease.[717] 20 Chad a foule turne now of late, chill tell it you, by gigs! D. Rat. Hath your browne cow cast hir calfe, or your sandy sowe her pigs? Gammer. No, but chad ben as good they had as this, ich wot weel. D. Rat. What is the matter? Gammer. Alas, alas! cha lost my good neele! My neele, I say, and wot ye what, a drab came by and spied it, 25 And when I asked hir for the same, the filth flatly denied it. D. Rat. What was she that? Gammer. A dame, ich warrant you! She began to scold and brawle— Alas, alas! Come hether, Hodge! this wr[e]tche can tell you all.

Hodge. God morow, Gaffer Vicar. D. Rat. Come on, fellow, let us heare! Thy dame hath sayd to me, thou knowest of all this geare; Lets see what thou canst saie. Hodge. Bym fay, sir, that ye shall. What matter so ever there was done, ich can tell your maship [all]: My Gammer Gurton heare, see now, 5 sat her downe at this doore, see now; And, as she began to stirre her, see now, her neele fell to the floore, see now; And while her staffe shee tooke, see now, at Gyb her cat to flynge, see now, 10 Her neele was lost in the floore, see now. Is not this a wondrous thing, see now? Then came the queane Dame Chat, see now, to aske for hir blacke cup, see now: And even here at this gate, see now, 15 she tooke that neele up, see now: My Gammer then she yeede,[719] see now, her neele againe to bring, see now, And was caught by the head, see now. Is not this a wondrous thing, see now? 20 She tare my Gammers cote, see now, and scratched hir by the face, see now; Chad thought shad stopt hir throte, see now. Is not this a wondrous case, see now? When ich saw this, ich was wrothe,[720] see now, 25 and start betwene them twaine, see now; Els ich durst take a booke othe, see now, my gammer had bene slaine, see now. Gammer. This is even the whole matter, as Hodge has plainly tolde; And chould faine be quiet for my part, that chould. 30 But help us, good Master, beseech ye that ye doo: Els shall we both be beaten and lose our neele too. D. Rat. What wold ye have me to doo? tel me, that I were gone; I will do the best that I can, to set you both at one. But be ye sure Dame Chat hath this your neele founde? 35 Gammer. Here comes the man that see hir take it up of the ground. Aske him your selfe, Master Rat, if ye beleve not me: And help me to my neele, for Gods sake and Saint Charitie! D. Rat. Come nere, Diccon, and let us heare what thou can expresse. Wilt thou be sworne thou seest Dame Chat this womans neele have? 40 Diccon. Nay, by S. Benit, wil I not, then might ye thinke me rave! Gammer. Why, didst not thou tel me so even here? canst thou for shame deny it? Diccon. I, mary, Gammer; but I said I would not abide by it. D. Rat. Will you say a thing, and not sticke to it to trie it? Diccon. "Stick to it," quoth you, Master Rat? mary, sir, I defy it! 45 Nay, there is many an honest man, when he suche blastes hath blowne In his freindes eares, he woulde be loth the same by him were knowne. If such a toy be used oft among the honestie, It may beseme a simple man of your and my degree. D. Rat. Then we be never the nearer, for all that you can tell! 50 Diccon. Yea, mary, sir, if ye will do by mine advise and counsaile. If Mother Chat se al us here, she knoweth how the matter goes; Therfore I red you three go hence, and within keepe close, And I will into Dame Chats house, and so the matter use, That or[721] you cold go twise to church I warant you here news. 55 She shall look wel about hir, but, I durst lay a pledge, Ye shal of Gammers neele have shortly better knowledge. Gammer. Now, gentle Diccon, do so, and, good sir, let us trudge. D. Rat. By the masse, I may not tarry so long to be your judge. Diccon. Tys but a little while, man; what! take so much paine! 60 If I here no newes of it, I wil come sooner againe. Hodge. Tary so much, good Master Doctor, of your gentlenes! D. Rat. Then let us hie us inward, and, Diccon, speede thy busines. Diccon.[722] Now, sirs, do you no more, but kepe my counsaile juste, And Doctor Rat shall thus catch some good, I trust. 65 But Mother Chat, my gossop, talke first with-all I must: For she must be chiefe captaine to lay the Rat in the dust. God deven, dame Chat, in faith, and wel met in this place! Chat. God deven, my friend Diccon; whether walke ye this pace? Diccon. By my truth, even to you, to learne how the world goeth. 70 Hard ye no more of the other matter? say me, now, by your troth! Chat. O yes, Diccon, here the old hoore, and Hodge, that great knave— But, in faith, I would thou hadst sene,—O Lord, I drest them brave! She bare me two or three souses behind in the nape of the necke, Till I made hir olde wesen to answere againe, "kecke!" 75 And Hodge, that dirty dastard, that at hir elbow standes,— If one pair of legs had not bene worth two paire of hands, He had had his bearde shaven if my nayles wold have served, Dij And not without a cause, for the knave it well deserved. Diccon. By the masse, I can the thank, wench, thou didst so wel acquite the! 80 Chat. And thadst scene him, Diccon, it wold have made the beshite the For laughter. The horsen dolt at last caught up a club, As though he would have slaine the master devil Belsabub. But I set him soone inwarde. Diccon. O Lorde, there is the thing That Hodge is so offended! that makes him start and flyng! 85 Chat. Why? makes the knave any moyling, as ye have seen or hard? Diccon. Even now I sawe him last, like a mad man he farde, And sware by heven and hell he would awreake his sorowe, And leve you never a hen on live, by eight of the clock to morow; Therfore marke what I say, and my wordes see that ye trust. 90 Your hens be as good as dead, if ye leave them on the ruste. Chat. The knave dare as well go hang himself, as go upon my ground. Diccon. Wel, yet take hede I say, I must tel you my tale round. Have you not about your house, behind your furnace or leade[723] A hole where a crafty knave may crepe in for neade? 95 Chat. Yes, by the masse, a hole broke down, even within these two dayes. Diccon. Hodge he intends this same night to slip in there awayes. Chat. O Christ! that I were sure of it! in faith he shuld have his mede! Diccon. Watch wel, for the knave wil be there as sure as is your crede. I wold spend my selfe a shilling to have him swinged well. 100 Chat. I am as glad as a woman can be of this thing to here tell. By Gogs bones, when he commeth, now that I know the matter, He shal sure at the first skip to leape in scalding water, With a worse turne besides; when he will, let him come. Diccon. I tell you as my sister; you know what meaneth "mum"! [724]Now lacke I but my doctor to play his part againe. 106 And lo where he commeth towards, peradventure to his paine! D. Rat. What good newes, Diccon, fellow? is Mother Chat at home? Diccon. She is, syr, and she is not, but it please her to whome; Yet did I take her tardy, as subtle as she was. 110 D. Rat. The thing that thou wentst for, hast thou brought it to passe? Diccon. I have done that I have done, be it worse, be it better, And Dame Chat at her wyts ende I have almost set her. D. Rat. Why, hast thou spied the neele? quickly, I pray thee, tell! Diccon. I have spyed it, in faith, sir, I handled my selfe so well; 115 And yet the crafty queane had almost take my trumpe. But or all came to an ende, I set her in a dumpe. D. Rat. How so, I pray thee, Diccon? Diccon. Mary, syr, will ye heare? She was clapt downe on the backside, by Cocks mother dere, And there she sat sewing a halter or a bande, 120 With no other thing save Gammers nedle in her hande. As soone as any knocke, if the filth be in doubte, She needes but once puffe, and her candle is out: Now I, sir, knowing of every doore the pin, Came nycely, and said no worde, till time I was within; 125 And there I sawe the neele, even with these two eyes; Who ever say the contrary, I will sweare he lyes. D. Rat. O Diccon, that I was not there then in thy steade! Diccon. Well, if ye will be ordred, and do by my reade, I will bring you to a place, as the house standes, 130 Where ye shall take the drab with the neele in hir handes. D. Rat. For Gods sake do so, Diccon, and I will gage my gowne To geve thee a full pot of the best ale in the towne. Diccon. Follow me but a litle, and marke what I will say; Lay downe your gown beside you; go to, come on your way! 135 Se ye not what is here? a hole wherin ye may creepe Into the house, and sodenly unwares among them leape; There shal ye finde the bitchfox and the neele together. Do as I bid you, man, come on your wayes hether! D. Rat. Art thou sure, Diccon, the swil-tub standes not here aboute? 140 Diccon. I was within my selfe, man, even now, there is no doubt. Go softly, make no noyse; give me your foote, Sir John. Here will I waite upon you, tyl you come out anone. D. Rat. Helpe, Diccon! out, alas! I shal be slaine among them! Diccon. If they give you not the nedle, tel them that ye will hang them. 145 Ware that! Hoow, my wenches! have ye caught the Foxe That used to make revel among your hennes an Cocks? Save his life yet for his order, though he susteine some paine. Gogs bread! I am afraide they wil beate out his braine. D. Rat. Wo worth the houre that I came heare! 150 And wo worth him that wrought this geare! A sort of drabs and queanes have me blest— Was ever creature halfe so evill drest? Who ever it wrought, and first did invent it He shall, I warrant him, erre long repent it! 155 I will spend all I have without my skinne Diii But he shall be brought to the plight I am in! Master Bayly, I trow, and he be worth his eares, Will snaffle these murderers and all that them beares.[725] I will surely neither byte nor suppe 160 Till I fetch him hether, this matter to take up.

Bayly. I can perceive none other, I speke it from my hart, But either ye ar in al the fault, or els in the greatest part. D. Rat. If it be counted his fault, besides all his greeves, When a poore man is spoyled and beaten among theeves, Then I confess my fault herein, at this season; 5 But I hope you will not judge so much against reason. Bayly. And, me thinkes, by your owne tale, of all that ye name, If any plaid the theefe, you were the very same. The women they did nothing, as your words make probation, But stoutly withstood your forcible invasion. 10 If that a theefe at your window to enter should begin, Wold you hold forth your hand and helpe to pull him in? Or you wold kepe him out? I pray you answere me. D. Rat. Mary, kepe him out, and a good cause why! But I am no theefe, sir, but an honest learned clarke. 15 Bayly. Yea, but who knoweth that, when he meets you in the darke? I am sure your learning shines not out at your nose! Was it any marvaile though the poore woman arose And start up, being afraide of that was in hir purse? Me thinke you may be glad that you[r] lucke was no worse. 20 D. Rat. Is not this evill ynough, I pray you, as you thinke?

Bayly. Yea, but a man in the darke, if[726] chaunces do wincke, As soone he smites his father as any other man, Because for lacke of light discerne him he ne can. Might it not have ben your lucke with a spit to have ben slaine? 25 D. Rat. I think I am litle better, my scalpe is cloven to the braine. If there be all the remedy, I know who beares the k[n]ockes. Bayly. By my troth, and well worthy besides to kisse the stockes! To come in on the backe side, when ye might go about! I know non such, unles they long to have their braines knockt out. 30 D. Rat. Well, wil you be so good, sir, as talke with Dame Chat, And know what she intended? I aske no more but that. Bayly. Let her be called, fellow,[727] because of Master Doctor, I warrant in this case she wil be hir owne proctor; She will tel hir owne tale in metter or in prose, 35 And byd you seeke your remedy, and so go wype your nose.

Bayly. Dame Chat, Master Doctor upon you here complained That you and your maides shuld him much misorder, And taketh many an oth, that no word he fained, Laying to your charge, how you thought him to murder; And on his part againe, that same man saith furder 5 He never offended you in word nor intent. To heare you answer hereto, we have now for you sent. Chat. That I wold have murdered him? fye on him, wretch, And evil mought he thee[728] for it, our Lord I beseech. I will swere on al the bookes that opens and shuttes, 10 He faineth this tale out of his owne guttes; For this seven weekes with me I am sure he sat not downe. Nay, ye have other minions, in the other end of the towne, Where ye were liker to catch such a blow, Then any where els, as farre as I know! 15 Bayly. Belike, then, Master Doctor, yon[729] stripe there ye got not! D. Rat. Thinke you I am so mad that where I was bet I wot not? Wil ye beleve this queane, before she hath tryd it? It is not the first dede she hath done, and afterward denide it. Chat. What, man, will you say I broke you[r] heade? 20 D. Rat. How canst thou prove the contrary? Chat. Nay, how provest thou that I did the deade? D. Rat. To plainly, by S. Mary, This profe I trow may serve, though I no word spoke!

Chat. Bicause thy head is broken, was it I that it broke? 25 I saw thee, Rat, I tel thee, not once within this fortnight. D. Rat. No mary, thou sawest me not, for why thou hadst no light; But I felt thee for al the darke, beshrew thy smothe cheekes! And thou groped me, this wil declare any day this six weekes.

Bayly. Answere me to this, M[ast] Rat: when caught you this harme of yours? 30 D. Rat. A while ago, sir, God he knoweth, within les then these two houres. Bayly. Dame Chat, was there none with you (confesse, i-faith) about that season? What, woman? let it be what it wil, tis neither felony nor treason. Chat. Yea, by my faith, master Bayly, there was a knave not farre Who caught one good philup on the brow with a dore barre, 35 And well was he worthy, as it semed to mee; But what is that to this man, since this was not hee? Bayly. Who was it then? Lets here! D. Rat. Alas sir, aske you that? Is it not made plain inough by the owne mouth of Dame Chat? The time agreeth, my head is broken, her tong can not lye, 40 Onely upon a bare nay she saith it was not I. Chat. No, mary, was it not indeede! ye shal here by this one thing: This after noone a frend of mine for good wil gave me warning, And bade me wel loke to my ruste,[730] and al my capons pennes, For if I toke not better heede, a knave wold have my hennes. 45 Then I, to save my goods, toke so much pains as him to watch; And as good fortune served me, it was my chaunce hym for to catch. What strokes he bare away, or other what was his gaines, I wot not, but sure I am he had something for his paines! Bayly. Yet telles thou not who it was. Chat. Who it was? a false theefe, 50 That came like a false foxe my pullaine[731] to kil and mischeefe! Bayly. But knowest thou not his name? Chat. I know it; but what than? It was that crafty cullyon Hodge, my Gammer Gurtons man. Bayly. Cal me the knave hether, he shal sure kysse the stockes. I shall teach him a lesson for filching hens or cocks! 55 D. Rat. I marvaile, Master Bayly, so bleared be your eyes; An egge is not so ful of meate, as she is ful of lyes: When she hath playd this pranke, to excuse al this geare, She layeth the fault in such a one, as I know was not there. Chat. Was he not thear? loke on his pate, that shal be his witnes! 60 D. Rat. I wold my head were half so hole; I wold seeke no redresse! Bayly. God blesse you, Gammer Gurton! Gammer. God dylde you,[732] master mine! Bayly. Thou hast a knave within thy house—Hodge, a servant of thine; They tel me that busy knave is such a filching one, That hen, pig, goose or capon, thy neighbour can have none. 65 Gammer. By God, cham much ameved,[733] to heare any such reporte! Hodge was not wont, ich trow, to have[734] him in that sort. Chat. A theevisher knave is not on live, more filching, nor more false; Many a truer man then he hase hanged up by the halse;[735] And thou, his dame,—of al his theft thou art the sole receaver;[736] 70 For Hodge to catch, and thou to kepe, I never knew none better! Gammer. Sir reverence[737] of your masterdome, and you were out adoore, Chold be so bolde, for al hir brags, to cal her arrant whoore; And ich knew Hodge as bad as tow,[738] ich wish me endlesse sorow And chould not take the pains to hang him up before to morow! 75 Chat. What have I stolne from the or thine, thou ilfavored olde trot? Gammer. A great deale more, by Gods blest, then chever by the got! That thou knowest wel, I neade not say it. Bayly. Stoppe there, I say, And tel me here, I pray you, this matter by the way, How chaunce Hodge is not here? him wold I faine have had. 80 Gammer. Alas, sir, heel be here anon; ha be handled to bad. Chat. Master Bayly, sir, ye be not such a foole, wel I know, But ye perceive by this lingring there is a pad[739] in the straw.

Gammer. Chil shew you his face, ich warrant the; lo now where he is!

Bayly. Come on, fellow, it is tolde me thou art a shrew, iwysse: 85 Thy neighbours hens thou takest, and playes the two legged foxe; Their chickens and their capons to, and now and then their cocks.

Hodge. Ich defy them al that dare it say, cham as true as the best!

Bayly. Wart not thou take within this houre in Dame Chats hens nest?

Hodge. Take there? no, master; chold not dot for a house ful of gold! 90

Chat. Thou or the devil in thy cote—sweare this I dare be bold.

D. Rat. Sweare me no swearing, quean, the devill he geve the sorow! Al is not worth a gnat thou canst sweare till to morow: E Where is the harme he hath? shew it, by Gods bread! Ye beat him with a witnes, but the stripes light on my head! 95

Hodge. Bet me? Gogs blessed body, chold first, ich trow, have burst the! Ich thinke and chad my hands loose, callet, chould have crust the!

Chat. Thou shitten knave, I trow thou knowest the ful weight of my fist; I am fowly deceved onles thy head and my doore bar kyste.

Hodge. Hold thy chat, whore, thou criest so loude, can no man els be hard. 100

Chat. Well, knave, and I had the alone, I wold surely rap thy costard!

Bayly. Sir, answer me to this: is thy head whole or broken?

Hodge.[740] Yea, Master Bayly, blest be every good token, Is my head whole! Ich warrant you, tis neither scurvy nor scald! What, you foule beast, does think tis either pild or bald? 105 Nay, ich thanke God, chil not for al that thou maist spend That chad one scab on my narse as brode as thy fingers end.

Bayly. Come nearer heare!

Hodge. Yes, that I dare.

Bayly. By our Lady, here is no harme, Hodges head is whole ynough, for al Dame Chats charme. Chat. By Gogs blest, hou ever the thing he clockes or smolders,[741] 110 I know the blowes he bare away, either with head or shoulders. Camest thou not, knave, within this houre, creping into my pens, And there was caught within my hous groping among my hens? Hodge. A plage both on the hens & the! A carte, whore, a carte! Chould I were hanged as hie as a tree and chware as false as thou art! 115 Geve my gammer again her washical[742] thou stole away in thy lap! Gammer. Yea Maister Baily, there is a thing you know not on, mayhap; This drab she kepes away my good, the devil he might her snare! Ich pray you that ich might have a right action on her [fare]. Chat. Have I thy good, old filth, or any such old sowes? 120 I am as true, I wold thou knew, as skin betwene thy browes! Gammer. Many a truer hath ben hanged, though you escape the daunger! Chat. Thou shalt answer, by Gods pity, for this thy foule slaunder! Bayly. Why, what can ye charge hir withal? To say so ye do not well. Gammer. Mary, a vengeance to hir hart! the whore hase stoln my neele! 125 Chat. Thy nedle, old witch? how so? it were almes thy scul to knock! So didst thou say the other day that I had stolne thy cock, And rosted him to my breakfast, which shal not be forgotten; The devil pul out thy lying tong and teeth that be so rotten! Gammer. Geve me my neele! As for my cock, chould be very loth 130 That chuld here tel he shuld hang on thy false faith and troth. Bayly. Your talke is such, I can scarce learne who shuld be most in fault. Gammer. Yet shall be find no other wight, save she, by bred and salt! Bayly. Kepe ye content a while, se that your tonges ye holde. Me thinkes you shuld remembre this is no place to scolde. 135 How knowest thou, Gammer Gurton, Dame Chat thy nedle had? Gammer. To name you, sir, the party, chould not be very glad. Bayly. Yea, but we must nedes heare it, and therfore say it boldly. Gammer. Such one as told the tale full soberly and coldly, Even he that loked on—wil sweare on a booke— 140 What time this drunken gossip my faire long neele up tooke, Diccon, master, the Bedlam, cham very sure ye know him. Bayly. A false knave, by Gods pitie! ye were but a foole to trow him. I durst aventure wel the price of my best cap, That when the end is knowen, all will turne to a jape. 145 Tolde he not you that besides she stole your cocke that tyde? Gammer. No, master, no indede; for then he shuld have lyed. My cocke is, I thanke Christ, safe and wel a fine. Chat. Yea, but that ragged colt, that whore, that Tyb of thine, Said plainly thy cocke was stolne, and in my house was eaten. 150 That lying cut[743] is lost that she is not swinged and beaten, And yet for al my good name, it were a small amendes! I picke not this geare, hearst thou, out of my fingers endes; But he that hard it told me, who thou of late didst name, Diccon, whom al men knowes, it was the very same. 155 Bayly. This is the case: you lost your nedle about the dores, And she answeres againe, she hase no cocke of yours; Thus in you[r] talke and action, from that you do intend, She is whole five mile wide, from that she doth defend. Will you say she hath your cocke? Gammer. No, mary,[744] sir, that chil not, 160 Bayly. Will you confesse hir neele? Chat. Will I? No sir, will I not. Bayly. Then there lieth all the matter, Gammer. Soft, master, by the way! Ye know she could do litle, and she cold not say nay. Bayly. Yea, but he that made one lie about your cock stealing, Wil not sticke to make another, what time lies be in dealing. 165 I wene the ende wil prove this brawle did first arise Eii Upon no other ground but only Diccons lyes. Chat. Though some be lyes, as you belike have espyed them, Yet other some be true, by proof I have wel tryed them. Bayly. What other thing beside this, Dame Chat? Chat. Mary syr, even this. 170 The tale I tolde before, the selfe same tale it was his; He gave me, like a frende, warning against my losse, Els had my hens be stolne eche one, by Gods crosse! He tolde me Hodge wold come, and in he came indeede, But as the matter chaunsed, with greater hast than speede. 175 This truth was said, and true was found, as truly I report. Bayly. If Doctor Rat be not deceived, it was of another sort. D. Rat. By Gods mother, thou and he be a cople of suttle foxes! Betweene you and Hodge, I beare away the boxes. Did not Diccon apoynt the place, wher thou shuldst stand to mete him? 180 Chat. Yes, by the masse, and if he came, bad me not sticke to speet[745] hym. D. Rat. Gods sacrament! the villain knave hath drest us round about! He is the cause of all this brawle, that dyrty shitten loute! When Gammer Gurton here complained, and made a ruful mone, I heard him sweare that you had gotten hir nedle that was gone; 185 And this to try, he furder said, he was ful loth; how be it He was content with small adoe to bring me where to see it. And where ye sat, he said ful certain, if I wold folow his read, Into your house a privy way he wold me guide and leade, And where ye had it in your hands, sewing about a clowte, 190 And set me in the backe hole, therby to finde you out: And whiles I sought a quietnes, creping upon my knees, I found the weight of your dore bar for my reward and fees. Such is the lucke that some men gets, while they begin to mel In setting at one such as were out, minding to make al wel. 195 Hodge. Was not wel blest, Gammer, to scape that stoure?[746] And chad ben there, Then chad been drest,[747] be like, as ill, by the masse, as Gaffar Vicar. Bayly. Mary, sir, here is a sport alone; I loked for such an end. If Diccon had not playd the knave, this had ben sone amend. My gammer here he made a foole, and drest hir as she was; 200 And Goodwife Chat he set to scole, till both partes cried alas; And D[octor] Rat was not behind, whiles Chat his crown did pare. I wold the knave had ben starke blind, if Hodg had not his share. Hodge. Cham meetly wel sped alredy amongs, cham drest lik a coult! And chad not had the better wit, chad bene made a doult. 205 Bayly. Sir knave, make hast Diccon were here, fetch him, where ever he bee! Chat. Fie on the villaine, fie, fie! that makes us thus agree! Gammer. Fie on him, knave, with al my hart! now fie! and fie againe! D. Rat. Now "fie on him!" may I best say, whom he hath almost slaine. Bayly. Lo where he commeth at hand, belike he was not fare! 210 Diccon, heare be two or three thy company can not spare. Diccon. God blesse you, and you may be blest, so many al at once. Chat. Come knave, it were a good deed to geld the, by Cockes bones! Seest not thy handiwarke? Sir Rat, can ye forbeare him? Diccon. A vengeance on those hands lite, for my hands cam not nere hym. 215 The horsen priest hath lift the pot in some of these alewyves chayres That his head wolde not serve him, belyke, to come downe the stayres. Bayly. Nay, soft! thou maist not play the knave, and have this language to! If thou thy tong bridle a while, the better maist thou do. Confesse the truth, as I shall aske, and cease a while to fable; 220 And for thy fault I promise the thy handling shalbe reasonable. Hast thou not made a lie or two, to set these two by the eares? Diccon. What if I have? five hundred such have I seene within these seven yeares: I am sory for nothing else but that I see not the sport Which was betwene them when they met, as they them selves report. 225 Bayly. The greatest thing—Master Rat, ye se how he is drest! Diccon. What devil nede he be groping so depe, in Goodwife Chats hens nest? Bayly. Yea, but it was thy drift to bring him into the briars. Diccon. Gods bread! hath not such an old foole wit to save his eares? He showeth himselfe herein, ye see, so very a coxe, 230 The cat was not so madly alured by the foxe To run into the snares was set for him, doubtlesse; For he leapt in for myce, and this Sir John for madnes. D. Rat. Well, and ye shift no better, ye losel, lyther, and lasye, I will go neare for this to make ye leape at a dasye.[748] 235 In the kings name, Master Bayly, I charge you set him fast. Diccon. What, faste at cardes, or fast on slepe? it is the thing I did last. D. Rat. Nay, fast in fetters, false varlet, according to thy deedes. Bayly. Master Doctor, ther is no remedy, I must intreat you needes Some other kinde of punishment. Eiii D. Rat. Nay by all halowes 240 His punishment if I may judg, shal be naught els but the gallous. Bayly. That ware to sore, a spiritual man to be so extreame! D. Rat. Is he worthy any better, sir? how do ye judge and deame? Bayly. I graunt him wort[h]ie punishment, but in no wise so great. Gammer. It is a shame, ich tel you plaine, for such false knaves intreat! 245 He has almost undone us al—that is as true as steele,— And yet for al this great ado cham never the nere my neele! Bayly. Canst thou not say any thing to that, Diccon, with least or most? Diccon. Yea, mary, sir, this much I can say wel, the nedle is lost. Bayly. Nay, canst not thou tel which way that nedle may be found? 250 Diccon. No, by my fay, sir, though I might have an hundred pound. Hodge. Thou lier, lickdish, didst not say the neele wold be gitten? Diccon. No, Hodge, by the same token, you were[749] that time beshitten For feare of Hobgobling—you wot wel what I meane; As long as it is sence, I feare me yet ye be scarce cleane. 255 Bayly. Wel, Master Rat, you must both learne and teach us to forgeve. Since Diccon hath confession made, and is so cleane shreve, If ye to me conscent, to amend this heavie chaunce, I wil injoyne him here some open kind of penaunce, Of this condition (where ye know my fee is twenty pence): 260 For the bloodshed, I am agreed with you here to dispence; Ye shal go quite, so that ye graunt the matter now to run To end with mirth emong us al, even as it was begun. Chat. Say yea, Master Vicar, and he shall sure confes to be your detter, And al we that be heare present, wil love you much the better. 265 D. Rat. My part is the worst; but since you al here on agree, Go even to, Master Bayly! let it be so for mee! Bayly. How saiest thou, Diccon? art content this shal on me depend? Diccon. Go to, M[ast] Bayly, say on your mind, I know ye are my frend. Bayly. Then marke ye wel: To recompence this thy former action,— 270 Because thou hast offended al, to make them satisfaction,— Before their faces here kneele downe, and, as I shal the teach,— For thou shalt take an[750] othe of Hodges leather breache: First, for Master Doctor, upon paine of his cursse, Where he wil pay for al, thou never draw thy purse; 275 And when ye meete at one pot he shall have the first pull, And thou shalt never offer him the cup but it be full. To Goodwife that thou shalt be sworne, even on the same wyse, If she refuse thy money once, never to offer it twise. Thou shalt be bound by the same, here as thou dost take it, 280 When thou maist drinke of free cost, thou never forsake it. For Gammer Gurton's sake, againe sworne shalt thou bee, To helpe hir to hir nedle againe if it do lie in thee; And likewise be bound, by the vertue of that, To be of good abering to Gib her great cat. 285 Last of al, for Hodge the othe to scanne, Thou shalt never take him for fine gentleman. Hodge. Come, on, fellow Diccon, chal be even with thee now! Bayly. Thou wilt not sticke to do this, Diccon, I trow? Diccon. Now, by my fathers skin! my hand downe I lay it! 290 Loke, as I have promised, I wil not denay it. But, Hodge, take good heede now, thou do not beshite me!

Hodge. Gogs hart! thou false villaine, dost thou bite me? Bayly. What, Hodge, doth he hurt thee or ever he begin? Hodge. He thrust me into the buttocke with a bodkin or a pin! 295 I saie, Gammer! Gammer! Gammer. How now Hodge, how now? Hodge. Gods malt, Gammer Gurton! Gammer. Thou art mad, ich trow! Hodge. Will you see the devil, Gammer? Gammer. The devil, sonne! God blesse us! Hodge. Chould iche were hanged, Gammer— Gammer. Mary, se, ye might dresse us— Hodge. Chave it, by the masse, Gammer! Gammer. What? not my neele, Hodge? 300 Hodge. Your neele, Gammer! your neele! Gammer. No, fie, dost but dodge! Hodge. Cha found your neele, Gammer, here in my hand be it! Gammer. For al the loves on earth, Hodge, let me see it! Hodge. Soft, Gammer! Gammer. Good Hodge! Hodge. Soft, ich say; tarie a while! Gammer. Nay, sweete Hodge, say truth, and do not me begile! 305 Hodge. Cham sure on it, ich warrant you; it goes no more a stray. Gammer. Hodge, when I speake so faire; wilt stil say me nay? Hodge. Go neare the light, Gammer, this—wel, in faith, good lucke!— Chwas almost undone, twas so far in my buttocke! Eiv Gammer. Tis min owne deare neele, Hodge, sykerly I wot! 310 Hodge. Cham I not a good sonne, Gammer, cham I not? Gammer. Christs blessing light on thee, hast made me for ever! Hodge. Ich knew that ich must finde it, els choud a had it never! Chat. By my troth, gossyp Gurton, I am even as glad As though I mine owne selfe as good a turne had! 315 Bayly. And I, by my concience, to see it so come forth, Rejoyce so much at it as three nedles be worth. D. Rat. I am no whit sory to see you so rejoyce. Diccon. Nor I much the gladder for al this noyce; Yet say "gramercy, Diccon," for springing of the game. 320 Gammer. Gramercy, Diccon, twenty times! O how glad cham! If that chould do so much, your masterdome to come hether, Master Rat, Goodwife Chat, and Diccon together, Cha but one halfpeny, as far as iche know it, And chil not rest this night till ich bestow it. 325 If ever ye love me, let us go in and drinke. Bayly. I am content, if the rest thinke as I thinke. Master Rat, it shal be best for you if we so doo; Then shall you warme you and dresse your self too. Diccon. Soft, syrs, take us with you, the company shal be the more! As proude coms behinde, they say, as any goes before! But now, my good masters, since we must be gone, And leave you behinde us here all alone; Since at our last ending thus mery we bee, For Gammer Gurtons nedle sake, let us have a plaudytie!