Have stacke away my deare neele, and robd me of my joye,
My fayre long strayght neele, that was myne onely treasure; 5
The fyrst day of my sorow is, and last end of my pleasure!
Hodge. Might ha kept it when ye had it! but fooles will be fooles styll.
Lose that is vast in your handes ye neede not but ye will.
Gammer. Go hie the, Tib, and run thou, hoore, to thend here of the towne![669]
Didst cary out dust in thy lap; seeke wher thou porest it downe, 10
And as thou sawest me roking, in the ashes where I morned,
So see in all the heape of dust thou leave no straw unturned.
Tyb. That chal, Gammer, swythe and tyte,[670] and sone be here agayne!