Above all other louts, fie on thee!
Is not here a cleanly prank?
But thy matter was no better,
Nor thy presence here no sweeter,
To fly I con[218] thee thank.[219]
Here is a matter worthy glosing[220]
Of Gammer Gurton's needle losing,
And a foul piece of wark:
A man, I think, might make a play
And need no word to this they say,