A see a thing this matter toucheth, within these twenty howres,
Even at this gate, before my face, by a neyghbour of yours.
She stooped me downe, and up she toke a nedle or a pyn.
I durst be sworne it was even yours, by all my mothers kyn.
Gammer. It was my neele, Diccon, ich wot; for here, even by this poste, 20
Ich sat, what time as ich up starte, and so my neele it loste.
Who was it, leive[691] son? speke, ich pray the, and quickly tell me that!
Diccon. A suttle queane as any in thys towne, your neyghboure here, Dame Chat.
Gammer. Dame Chat, Diccon? Let me be gone, chil thyther in post haste.
Diccon. Take my councell yet or ye go, for feare ye walke in wast. 25