This is all the wyt ye have, when others make their mone. 30
Cum downe, Hodge, where art thou? and let the cat alone!
Hodge. Gogs harte, help and come up! Gyb in her tayle hath fyre,
And is like to burne all, if shee get a lytle hier!
Cum downe, quoth you? nay, then you might count me a patch.[673]
The house commeth downe on your heads, if it take ons the thatch. 35
Gammer. It is the cats eyes, foole, that shyneth in the darke.
Hodge. Hath the cat, do you thinke, in every eye a sparke?
Gammer. No, but they shyne as lyke fyre as ever man see.
Hodge. By the masse, and she burne all, yoush beare the blame for mee!