R. Royster. I trowe they shall finde and feele that I am a lad.
M.M. By this crosse I have seene you eate your meat as well.
As any that ere I have seene of, or heard tell,
A stomacke quod you? he that will that denie,
I know was never at dynner in your companie.
R. Royster. Nay, the stomacke of a man it is that I meane.
M.M. Nay, the stomacke of a horse or a dogge I weene.
R. Royster. Nay, a man's stomacke with a weapon mean I.
M.M. Ten men can scarce match you with a spoon in a pie.
"Gammer Gurton's Needle" was acted in 1552. It bears marks of an early time in its words being coarsely indelicate, but not amatory. The humour is that of blows and insults and we may observe the great value then attached to needles. It is "a right pithy, pleasant and merry comedy"—a country story of an old dame who loses her needle when sewing a patch on the seat of her servant Hodge's breeches. The cat's misdoings interrupt her, and her needle is lost. The hunt for the needle is amusing, and Gammer Gurton and Dame Chat, whom she suspects of having stolen it, abuse and call each other witches. Hodge, the man with the patched breeches encourages Gammer Gurton, who seems little to require it.
"Smite, I say Gammer,
Bite, I say Gammer,
Where be your nails? Claw her by the jawes
Pull me out both her eyen.
Hoise her, souse her, bounce her, trounce her,
Pull out her thrott."
On some one giving Hodge a good slap, the needle runs into him, and is thus happily found.
At the opening of the second act of Gammer Gurton there is a drinking song, which deserves notice as it was the first written in English,—
"I cannot eat but little meat
My stomack is not good:
But sure I think that I can drink
With him that wears a hood.
Though I go bare, take ye no care
I nothing am a colde;
I stuff my skin so full within
Of ioly good ale and olde.
Backe and side go bare, go bare,
Booth foot and hand go colde;
But belly, God send thee good ale inoughe,
Whether it be new or olde;
"I love no rost, but a nut browne toste
And a crab laid in the fire;
A little bread shall do me stead
Moche bread I noght desire.
No frost, no snow, no wind I trowe
Can hurt me if I wolde.
I am so wrapt and throwly lapt
Of ioly good ale and olde.
Backe and side, &c.
"And Tib my wife, that as her life
Loveth well good ale to seeke,
Full oft drinkes shee, till ye may see
The teares run downe her cheeke.
Then doth she trowle to me the bowle
Even as a mault-worm sholde,
And saith 'sweet heart I tooke my part
Of this ioly good ale and olde.'
Backe and side, &c.
"Now let them drinke, till they nod and winke,
Even as good fellows should do;
They shall not misse to have the blisse
Good ale doth bring men to.
And al goode sowles that have scoured bowles,
Or have them lustely trolde,
God save the lives of them and their wives
Whether they be yong or olde.
Backe and side, &c."