Diccon. Now this gear must forward go, for here my Gammer cometh.
Be still a while, and say nothing; make here a little romth.
Gammer. Good lord! shall never be my luck my nee'le again to spy?
Alas, the while! 'tis past my help, where 'tis still it must lie!
Diccon. Now, Jesus! Gammer Gurton, what driveth you to this sadness?
I fear me, by my conscience, you will sure fall to madness.
Gammer. Who is that? What, Diccon? cham lost, man! fie, fie!
Diccon. Marry, fie on them that be worthy! but what should be your trouble?
Gammer. Alas! the more ich think on it, my sorrow it waxeth double.
My goodly tossing spurrier's nee'le chave lost ich wot not where.
Diccon. Your nee'le? when?
Gammer. My nee'le, alas! ich might full ill it spare,
As God himself he knoweth, ne'er one beside chave.
Diccon. If this be all, good Gammer, I warrant you all is safe.
Gammer. Why, know you any tidings which way my nee'le is gone?
Diccon. Yea, that I do, doubtless, as ye shall hear anon,
'A see a thing this matter toucheth within these twenty hours,
Even at this gate, before my face, by a neighbour of yours.
She stooped me down, and up she took up a needle or a pin.
I durst be sworn it was even yours, by all my mother's kin.
Gammer. It was my nee'le, Diccon, ich wot; for here, even by this post,
Ich sat, what time as ich up start, and so my nee'le it lost:
Who was it, leve son? speak, ich pray thee, and quickly tell me that!
Diccon. A subtle quean as any in this town, your neighbour here, dame Chat.
Gammer. Dame Chat, Diccon! Let me be gone, chill thither in post haste.
Diccon. Take my counsel yet or ye go, for fear ye walk in waste,
It is a murrain crafty drab, and froward to be pleased;
And ye take not the better way, our needle yet ye lose [it]:
For when she took it up, even here before your doors,
"What, soft, dame Chat" (quoth I), "that same is none of yours."
"Avaunt" (quoth she), "sir knave! what pratest thou of that I find?
I would thou hast kiss'd me I wot where"; she meant, I know, behind;
And home she went as brag as it had been a body-louse,
And I after, as bold as it had been the goodman of the house.
But there and ye had heard her, how she began to scold!
The tongue it went on patins, by him that Judas sold!
Each other word I was a knave, and you a whore of whores.
Because I spake in your behalf, and said the nee'le was yours.
Gammer. Gog's bread! and thinks that
that callet 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, that chill my nee'le lack?
Diccon. Slip not your gear, 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 apern to take and set before me;
And ich may my nee'le once see, chill, sure, remember thee!
THE SECOND ACT. THE FIFTH SCENE.
Diccon.
Diccon. Here will the sport begin; if these two once may meet,
Their cheer, durst lay money, will prove scarcely sweet.
My gammer, sure, intends to be upon her bones
With staves, or with clubs, or else with cobble stones.
Dame Chat, on the other side, if she be far behind
I am right far deceived; she is given to it of kind.
He that may tarry by it awhile, and that but short,
I warrant him, trust to it, he shall see all the sport.
Into the town will I, my friends to visit there,
And hither straight again to see th'end of this gear.
In the meantime, fellows, pipe up; your fiddles, I say, take them,
And let your friends hear such mirth as ye can make them.
THE THIRD ACT. THE FIRST SCENE.
Hodge.
Hodge. Sim Glover, yet gramercy! cham meetly well-sped now,
Th'art even as good a fellow as ever kiss'd a cow!
Here is a thong indeed, by the mass, though ich speak it;
Tom Tankard's great bald curtal, 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;
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.
Gammer, Hodge.