Gammer. Gog's bread! and thinks the callet[239] thus to keep my nee'le me fro?
Diccon. Let her alone, and she minds none other, but even to dress you so.
Gammer. By the mass, chill rather spend the coat that is on my back.
Thinks the false quean by such a sleight,[240] that chill my nee'le lack?
Diccon. Slip not your gear,[241] I counsel you, but of this take good heed,
Let not be known, I told you of it, how well soever ye speed.
Gammer. Chill in, Diccon, and clean aporn to take, and set before me;
And ich may my nee'le once see, chill sure remember thee.