University of Virginia Library

The ii. Acte.

Fyrste a Songe.

The fyrst Sceane.

Diccon. Hodge.
Diccon
Well done be Gogs malt, well songe and well sayde,
Come on mother Chat as thou art true mayde,
One fresh pot of ale lets see to make an ende
Agaynst this colde wether, my naked armes to defende,
This gere it warms the soule, now wind blow on the worst,
And let vs drink and swill, till that our bellies burste
Now were he a wyse man, by cunnynge colde defyne
Which way my Iourney lyeth or where Dyccon will dyne
But one good turne I haue, be it by nyght or daye
South, East, North or west, I am neuer out of my waye.

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
Saue thys poor pece of barly bread, tis a pleasant costly dishe.

Diccon
Haile fellow Hodge & will to fare, wt thy meat, if yu haue any?
But by thy words as I thē smelled, thy daintrels be not manye.

Hodge
Daintrels diccō (gogs soule mā (saue this pece of dry horsbred,
Cha byt no byt this lyue longe daie, no crome come in my hed
My gutts they yawle crawle and all my belly rumbleth
The puddynges can not lye still, ech one ouer other tumbleth
By gogs harte cham so vexte, and in my belly pende
Chould one peece were at the spittlehouse another at ye castels ende.

Diccon
Why hodge, was there none at home thy dinner for to set:

Hodge
Godgs bread Diccon ich came to late, was nothing ther to get
Gib (a fowle feind might on her light (lickt ye milke pan so clene
See Diccon, twas not so well washt this .vii. yere as ich wene
A pestilence lyght on all ill lucke, chad thought yet for all thys
Of a morsell of bacon behynde the dore at worst shuld not misse,
But when ich sought a slyp to cut, as ich was wont to do
Gogs soule Diccon, gyb our Cat had eate the bacon to.
Which bacon Diccon stole, as is declared before.

Diccon
Ill luck quod he, mary swere it hodg, this day ye trueth to tel
Thou rose not on thy right syde, or els blest thee not wel,
Thy mylk slopt vp, thy bacō filtched, that was to bad luck hodg.

Hodge
Nay, nay, ther was a fowler fault, my gāmer game yt dogde
Seest not how chā rent & torn, my heels, my knees & my breech
Chad thought as ich sat by the fire, help here & there a stitch,
But there ich was powpte indeede.

Diccon
Why Hodge?

Hodge
Bootes not man to tell,
Cham so drest amonst a sorte of fooles, chad better be in hell,
My gammer (cham ashamed to say) by god serued me not weele

Diccon
How so Hodge?

Hodge
Hase she not gone trowest now and lost her neele.

Diccon
Her Eele Hodge, who fysht of late? that was a dainty dysh.

Hodge
Tush tush, her neele, her neele, her neele man, tys neyther flesh nor fysh.
A lytle thing with an hole in the end, as bright as any syller,
Small, longe, sharpe at the poynt, & straight as any pyller.

Diccon
I know not what a deuil yu mēest, yu bringst me more in doubt

Hodge
Knowest not wt what tom tailers mā, sits broching throughe a clout
A neele, neele, a neele, my gammers neele is gone.

Diccon
Her neele Hodge, now I smel thee, yt was a chaunce alone,
By ye masse yu hadst a shamefull losse, & it wer but for thy breches

Hodge
Gogs soule man chould giue a crown chad it but iii. stitches.

Diccon
How sayest yu Hodg, what shuld he haue, again thy nedle got

Hodge
Bem vathers soule, and chad it chould giue him a new grot.

Diccon
Canst thou keepe counsaile in this case.

Hodge
Els chwold my thonge were out.

Diccon
Do than but then by my aduise, & I will fetch it wtout doubt,

Hodge
Chyll runne, chyll ryde, chyll dygge, chyl delue, chill toyle, chill trudge shalt see:
Chill hold chil drawe, chil pull, chill pynche chill kneele on my bare knee.
Chill scrape, chill scratche, chill syfte, chyll seeke, chill bowe, chill bende, chill sweate,
Chil stoop, chil stur, chil cap chil knele, chil crepe on hāds & feete,
Chil be thy bondman Diccon, ich sweare by sunne and moone
And channot sum what to stop this gap, cham vtterly vndone

Pointing behind to his torne kreeches.
Diccon
Why, is ther any special cause, thou takest hereat such sorow

Hodge
Kirstian Clack Tom simsons maid, bi the masse coms hether to morow
Cham not able to say, betweene vs what may hap,
She smyled on me the last sonday when ich put of my cap,

Diccon
Well Hodge this is a matter of weight, & must be kept close,
It might els turne to both our costes as the world now gose,
Shalt sware to be no blab Hodge.

Hodge
Chyll Diccon.

Diccon
Then go to,
Lay thine hand here, say after me as thou shalt here me do
Haste no booke?

Hodge
Cha no booke I.

Diccon
Then needes must force vs both,
Upon my breech to lay thine hand, and there to take thine othe.

Hodge
I Hodge breechelesse,
Sweare to Diccon rechelesse
By the crosse that I shall kysse,
To kepe his counsaile close
And alwayes me to dispose
To worke that his pleasure is.

Here he kyssech Diccons breeche.
Diccon.
Now Hodge see thou take heede
And do as I thee byd
For so I iudge it meete,
This nedle againe to win
There is no shift therin
But coniure vp a spreete.

Hodge
What the great deuill Diccon I saye?

Diccon
Yea in good faith, that is the waye,
Fet with some pretycharme.

Hodge
Softe Diccon be not to hasty yet,
By the masse for ich begyn to sweat
Cham afrayde of syme harme.

Diccon
Come hether then and sturre the nat
One inche out of this Cyrcle plat
But stande as I thee teache.

Hodge
And shall ich be here safe from theyr clawes:

Diccon
The mayster deuill with his longe pawes
Here to thee can not reache:
Now will I settle me to this geare.

Hodge
I saye Diccon, heare me, heare:
Go softely to thys matter.

Diccon
What deuyll man, art afraide of nought

Hodge
Canst not tarrye a lytle thought
Tyll ich make a curtesie of water.

Diccon
Stand still to it, why shuldest thou feare hym?

Hodge
Gogs sydes Diccon, me thinke ich heare him
And tarrye chal mare all.

Diccon
The matter is no worse then I tolde it,

Hodge
By the masse cham able no longer to holde it,
To bad iche must beraye the hall.

Diccon
Stand to it Hodge, sture not you horson,
What Deuyll, be thine ars strynges brusten?
Thy selfe a while but staye,
The deuill I smell hym wyll be here anone.

Hodge
Hold him fast Diccon, cham gone, cham gone
Chyll not be at that fraye.

The ii. Sceane.

Diccon. Chat.
Diccon
Fy shytten knaue, and out vpon thee
Aboue all other loutes fye on thee,
Is not here a clenly prancke?
But thy matter was no better
Nor thy presence here no sweter,
To flye I can the thanke:
Here is a matter worthy glosynge
Of Gammer Gurtons nedle losynge
And a foule peece of warke,
A man I thyncke myght make a playe
And nede no worde to this they saye
Being but halfe a Clarke.
Softe, let me alone, I will take the charge
This matter further to en large
Within a tyme shorte,
If ye will marke my toyes, and note
I will geue ye leaue to cut my throte
If I make not good sporte,
Dame Chat I say, where be ye, within?

Chat.
Who haue we there maketh such a din:

Diccon
Here is a good fellow, maketh no great daunger,

Chat.
What diccon? come nere, ye be no straunger,
We be fast set at trumpe man, hard by the fyre,
Thou shalt set on the king, if thou come a litle nyer.

Diccon
Nay, nay, there is no tarying: I must be gone againe
But first for you in councel I haue a word or twaine.

Chat.
Come hether Dol, Dol, sit downe and play this game,
And as thou sawest me do, see thou do euen the same
There is 5. trumps beside the Queene, ye hindmost yu shalt finde her
Take hede of Sim glouers wife, she hath an eie behind her,
Now Diccon say your will.

Diccon
Nay softe a litle yet,
I wold not tel it my sister, the matter is so great,
There I wil haue you sweare by our dere Lady of Bullaine,
S. Dunstone, and S. Donnyke, with the three Kinges of Kullaine,
That ye shal keepe it secret.

Chat,
Gogs bread that will I doo,
As secret as mine owne thought, by god and the deuil two.

Diccon.
Here is gāmer gurton your neighbour, a sad & heuy wight
Her goodly faire red Cock, at home was stole this last night.

Chat.
Gogs soule her Cock with the yelow legs, yt nightly crowed so iust?

Diccon
That cocke is stollen.

Chat.
What was he fet out of the hens ruste?

Diccon
I can not tel where ye deuil he was kept, vnder key or locke,
But Tib hath tykled in Gammers eare, that you shoulde steale the cocke

Chat.
Haue I stronge hoore? by bread and salte.

Diccon
What softe, I say be styl.
Say not one word for all this geare.

Chat.
By the masse that I wyl,
I wil haue the yong hore by the head, & the old trot by ye throte

Diccon
Not one word dame Chat I say, not one word for my cote.

Chat.
Shall such a begars brawle as yt thinkest yu make me a theefe
The pocks light on her hores sydes, a pestlence & a mischeefe
Come out thou hungry nedy bytche, o that my nails be short.

Diccon
Gogs bred womā hold your peace, this gere wil els passe sport
I wold not for an hundred pound, this matter shuld be knowen,
That I am auctour of this tale, or haue abrode it blowen
Did ye not sweare ye wold be ruled, before the tale I tolde
I said ye must all secret keepe, and ye said sure ye wolde.

Chat.
Wolde you suffer your selfe diccon, such a sort, to reuile you
With slaunderous words to blot your name, & so to defile you?

Diccon
No goodwife chat I wold be loth such drabs shulde blot my name
But yet ye must so order all, yt Diccon beare no blame.

Chal.
Go to then, what is your rede: say on your minde, ye shall mee rule herein.

Diccon
Godamercye to dame chat, in faith thou must the gere begin
It is twenty pound to a goose turd, my gammer will not tary
But hetherward she comes as fast as her legs can her cary,
To brawle with you about her cocke, for well I hard Tib say
The Cocke was rosted in your house, to breafast yesterday,
And when ye had the carcas eaten, the fethers ye out flunge
And Doll your maid the legs she hid a foote depe in the dunge.

Chat.
Oh gracyous god my harte is burstes,

Diccon
Well rule your selfe a space
And gammer gurton when she commeth anon into thys place
Then to the Queane lets see tell her your mynd & spare not
So shall Diccon blamelesse bee, and then go to I care not.

Chat,
Then hoore beware her throte, I can abide no longer
In faith old witch it shalbe seene, which of vs two be stronger
And Diccon but at your request, I wold not stay one howre,

Diccon
Well keepe it in till she be here, and then out let it powre,
In the meane while get you in, and make no wordes of this
More of this matter wt in this howre to here you shall not misse
Because I know you are my freind, hide it I cold not doubtles
Ye know your harm, see ye be wise about your owne busines
So fare ye will.

Chat.
Nay soft Diccon and drynke, what Doll I say
Bringe here a cup of the best ale, lets see, come quicly a waye.

The iii. Sceane.

Hodge. Diccon.
Diccon
Ye see masters ye one end tapt of this my short deuise
Now must we breche thoter to, before the smoke arise
And by the time they haue a while run. I trust ye need not craue it.
But loke what lieth in both their harts ye ar like sure to haue it

Hodge
Yea gogs soule, art aliue yet? what Diccon dare ich come?

Diccon
A man is wel hied to trust to thee, I wil say nothing but mum
But and ye come any nearer I pray you see all be sweete.

Hodge
Tush man, is gammers neele found, that chould gladly weete

Diccon
She may thāke thee it is not foūd, for if yu had kept thy stāding
The deuil he wold haue fet it out, euen hodg at thy cōmaunding

Hodge
Gogs hart, & cold he tel nothing wher the neele might be found

Diccon
Ye folysh dolt, ye were to seek, ear we had got our ground,
Therfore his tale so doubtfull was, that I cold not perceiue it.

Hodge
Then ich se wel somthing was said, chope one day yet to haue it,
But diccon, diccon, did not the deuill cry ho, ho, ho,

Diccon
If yu hadst taryed where thou stoodst, thou woldest haue said so

Hodge
Durst swere of a boke, chard him rore, streight after ich was gon
But tel me diccon what said ye knaue: let me here it anon.

Diccon
The horson talked to mee. I know not well of what
One whyle his tonge it ran and paltered of a Cat,
Another whyle he stamered styll vppon a Rat,
Last of all there was nothing but euery word Chat, Chat,
But this I well perceyued before I wolde him rid,
Betweene Chat, and the Rat, and the Cat, the nedle is hyd,
Now wether Gyb our cat haue eate it in her mawe,
Or Doctor Rat our curat haue found it in the straw,
Or this dame chat your neighbour haue stollen it, god hee knoweth
But by ye morow at this time, we shal learn how the matter goeth

Hodge
Canst not learn to night man, seest not what is here,

Pointyng behind to his torne breeches.
Diccon
Tys not possyble to make it sooner appere,

Hodge
Alas Diccon then chaue no shyft, but least ich tary to longe
Hye me to Sym glouers shop, theare to seeke for a Thonge,
Ther with this breech to tatche and tye as ich may.

Diccon
To morow hodg if we chaunce to meete, shalt see what I will say.

The iiii. Sceane.

Diccon: Gammer.
Diccon
Now this gere must forward goe, for here my gammer: commeth,
Be still a while & say nothing, make here a litle romth.

Gāmer
Good lord, shall neuer be my lucke my neele agayne to spye?
Alas the whyle tys past my helpe, where tis still it must lye.

Diccon
Now Iesus gammer gurtō, what driueth you to this sadnes:
I feare me by my conscience, you will sure fall to madnes.

Gāmer
Who is that, what Diccon, cham lost man: fye fye.

Diccon
Mary fy on them yt be worthy, but what shuld be your troble,

Gāmer
Alas the more ich thinke on it, my sorow it waxeth doble
My goodly tossing sporyars neele, chaue lost ich wot not where.

Diccon
Your neele, whan?

Gāmer
My neele (alas) ich myght full ill it spare,
As god him selfe he knoweth nere one besyde chaue.

Diccon
If this be all good gammer, I warrant you all is saue.

Gāmer
Why know you any tydings which way my neele is gone?

Diccon
Yea that I do doubtlesse, as ye shall here anone,
A see a thing this matter toucheth, within these .xx. howres,
Euen at this gate, before my face, by aneyghbour of yours,
She stooped me downe, and vp she toke a nedle or a pyn:
I durst be sworne it was euen yours, by all my mothers kyn.

Gāmer
It was my neele diccon ich wot, for here euen by this poste
Ich sat, what time as ich vp starte, and so my neele it loste:
Who was it leiue son? speke ich pray the, & quickly tell me that?

Diccon
A suttle queane as any in thys Towne, your neyghboure here dame Chat.

Gāmer
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,
It is a murrion crafty drab, and froward to be pleased,
And ye take not the better way, our nedle yet ye lose it:
For when she tooke it vp, euen here before your doores
What soft dame chat (quoth I) that same is none of yours
Auant (quoth she) syr knaue, what pratest thou of that I fynd:
I wold ye hadst kist me I wot whear: (she ment I know behind)
And home she went as brag, as it had ben a bodelouse,
And I after as bold, as it had ben, the goodman of the house:
But there and ye had hard her, how she began to scolde
The tonge it went on patins, by hym that Iudas solde,
Ech other worde I was a knaue, and you a hore of hores,
Because I spake in your behalfe, and sayde the neele was yours.

Gāmer
Gogs bread, and thinks ye callet thus to kepe my neele me fro?

Diccon
Let her alone, and she minds non other but euē to dresse you so

Gāmer
By the masse chil rather spend the cote that is on my backe.
Thinks the false quean by such a slygh, that chill my neele lacke

Diccon
Slepe not you gere I counsell you, but of this take good hede
Let not be knowen I told you of it, how well soeuer ye spede.

Gāmer
Chil in Diccon a cleene aperne to take, and set before me,
And ich may my neele once see, chil sure remember the

The v. Sceane.

Diccon.
Diccon
Here will the sporte begin, if these two once may meete.
Their chere durst lay money will proue scarsly sweete
My gammer sure entends, to be vppon her bones,
With staues, or with clubs, or els with coble stones.
Dame Chat on the other syde, if she be far behynde
I am right far deceiued she is geuen to it of kynde,
He that may tarry by it a whyle, and that but shorte
I warrant hym trust to it, he shall see all the sporte
Into the towne will I, my frendes to vysit there
And hether straight againe to see thend of this gere
In the meane time felowes, pype vpp your fiddles, I saie take them
And let your freyndes here such mirth as ye can make them.