Hodge. Gods malt, Gammer Gurton!
Gammer. Thou art mad, ich trow!
Hodge. Will you see the devil, Gammer?
Gammer. The devil, sonne! God blesse us!
Hodge. Chould iche were hanged, Gammer—
Gammer. Mary, se, ye might dresse us—
Hodge. Chave it, by the masse, Gammer!
Gammer. What? not my neele, Hodge? 300
Hodge. Your neele, Gammer! your neele!
Gammer. No, fie, dost but dodge!