Hodge. Cham sure on it; ich warrant you, it goes no more astray.
Gammer. Hodge, when I speak so fair, wilt still say me nay?
Hodge. Go near the light, gammer, 'tis well in faith, good luck:
Ch' was almost undone, 'twas so far in my buttock.
Gammer. 'Tis mine own dear nee'le, Hodge, sikerly[313] I wot.
Hodge. Cham I not a good son, gammer, cham I not?
Gammer. Christ's blessing light on thee, hast made me for ever.
Hodge. Ich knew that ich must find it, else chould a' had it never.
Chat. By my troth, gossip Gurton, I am even as glad,
As though I mine own self as good a turn had.