Tyb. See, Hodge, whats t[h]ys? may it not be within it? 50
Hodge. Breake it, foole, with thy hand, and see and thou canst fynde it.
Tyb. Nay, breake it you, Hodge, accordyng to your word.
Hodge. Gogs sydes! fye! it styncks; it is a cats tourd!
It were well done to make thee eate it, by the masse!
Gammer. This matter amendeth not; my neele is still where it wasse. 55
Our candle is at an ende, let us all in quight,
And come another tyme, when we have more lyght.