Cham not able to say between us what may hap,
She smiled on me the last Sunday, when ich put off my cap.
Diccon. Well, Hodge, this is a matter of weight, and must be kept close,
It might else turn to both our costs, as the world now goes.[213]
Shalt swear to be no blab, Hodge?
Hodge. Chill, Diccon.
Diccon. Then go to,
Lay thine hand here, say after me, as thou shalt hear me do.
Hast no book?
Hodge. Cha no book, I.