Tom Tankard's great bald curtal,[246] I think, could not break it.
And when he spied my need to be so straight and hard,
Hase lent me here his nawl to set the gib forward.[247]
As for my gammer's nee'le the flying fiend go wi' it,
Chill not now go to the door again with it to meet.
Chould make shift good enough, and chad a candle's end:
The chief hole in my breech with these two chill amend.
THE THIRD ACT.
THE SECOND SCENE.