Gammer. Tyb. Cocke. Hodge.
Gammer. How now, Tib? quycke, lets here what newes thou hast brought hether!
Tyb. Chave tost and tumbled yender heap our and over againe,
And winowed it through my fingers, as men wold winow grain;
Not so much as a hens turd but in pieces I tare it,
Or what so ever clod or clay I found, I did not spare it, 5
Lokyng within and eke without, to fynd your neele, alas!
But all in vaine and without help! your neele is where it was.
Gammer. Alas my neele! we shall never meete! adue, adue, for aye!
Tyb. Not so, Gammer, we myght it fynd, if we knew where it laye.