Which way my journey lyeth, or where Dyccon will dyne!
But one good turne I have: be it by nyght or daye,
South, east, north or west, I am never out of my waye! 10
Hodge. Chym goodly rewarded, cham I not, do you thyncke?
Chad a goodly dynner for all my sweate and swyncke!
Neyther butter, cheese, mylke, onyons, fleshe, nor fyshe,
Save this poor pece of barly bread: tis a pleasant costly dishe!
Diccon. Haile, fellow Hodge, and well[676] to fare with thy meat, if thou have any: 15
But by thy words, as I them smelled, thy daintrels be not manye.
Hodge. Daintrels, Diccon? Gogs soule, man, save this piece of dry horsbread,