chill sift, chill seek,
Chill bow, chill bend, chill sweat,
Chill stoop, chill stour, chill cap, chill kneel,
Chill creep on hands and feet;
Chill be thy bondman, Diccon, ich swear by sun and moon,
And channot somewhat to stop this gap, cham utterly undone!

[Pointing behind to his torn breeches.

Diccon. Why, is there any special cause thou takest hereat such sorrow?

Hodge. Kirstian Clack, Tom Simpson's maid, by the mass, comes hither to-morrow,
Cham not able to say, between us what may hap;
She smiled on me the last Sunday, when ich put off my cap.

Diccon. Well, Hodge, this is a matter of weight, and must be kept close,
It might else turn to both our costs, as the world now goes.
Shalt swear to be no blab, Hodge?

Hodge. Chill, Diccon.

Diccon. Then go to,
Lay thine hand here; say after me, as thou shalt hear me do.
Hast no book?

Hodge. Cha no book, I.

Diccon. Then needs must force us both,
Upon my breech to lay thine hand, and there to take thine oath.

Hodge. I, Hodge, breechless
Swear to Diccon, rechless,
By the cross that I shall kiss,
To keep his counsel close,
And always me to dispose
To work that his pleasure is.

[Here he kisseth Diccon's breech.

Diccon. Now, Hodge, see thou take heed,
And do as I thee bid;
For so I judge it meet;
This needle again to win,
There is no shift therein,
But conjure up a spreet.

Hodge. What, the great devil, Diccon, I say?

Diccon. Yea, in good faith, that is the way.
Fet with some pretty charm.

Hodge. Soft, Diccon, be not too hasty yet,
By the mass, for ich begin to sweat!
Cham afraid of some harm.

Diccon. Come hither, then, and stir thee not
One inch out of this circle plat,
But stand as I thee teach.

Hodge. And shall ich be here safe from their claws?

Diccon. The master-devil with his long paws
Here to thee cannot reach—
Now will I settle me to this gear.

Hodge. I say, Diccon, hear me, hear!
Go softly to this matter!

Diccon. What devil, man? art afraid of nought?

Hodge. Canst not tarry a little thought
Till ich make a courtesy of water?

Diccon. Stand still to it; why shouldest thou fear him?

Hodge. Gog's sides, Diccon, me-think ich hear him!
And tarry, chall mar all!

Diccon. The matter is no worse than I told it.

Hodge. By the mass, cham able no longer to hold it!
Too bad! ich must beray the hall!

Diccon. Stand to it, Hodge! stir not, you whoreson!
What devil, be thine arse-strings brusten?
Thyself a while but stay,
The devil (I smell him) will be here anon.

Hodge. Hold him fast, Diccon, cham gone!
Chill not be at that fray!

THE SECOND ACT. THE SECOND SCENE.

Diccon, Chat.

Diccon. Fie, shitten knave, and out upon thee!
Above all other louts, fie on thee!
Is not here a cleanly prank,
But thy matter was no better,
Nor thy presence here no sweeter,
To fly I can thee thank.
Here is a matter worthy glosing,
Of Gammer Gurton's needle losing,
And a foul piece of wark!
A man I think might make a play,
And need no word to this they say
Being but half a clerk.

Soft, let me alone, I will take the charge
This matter further to enlarge
Within a time short.
If ye will mark my toys, and note,
I will give ye leave to cut my throat
If I make not good sport.

Dame Chat, I say, where be ye? within?

Chat. Who have we there maketh such a din?

Diccon. Here is a good fellow, maketh no great danger.

Chat. What, Diccon? Come near, ye be no stranger.
We be fast set at trump, man, hard by the fire;
Thou shalt set on the king, if thou come a little nigher.

Diccon. Nay, nay, there is no tarrying; I must be gone again.
But first for you in counsel I have a word or twain.

Chat. Come hither, Doll! Doll, sit down and play this game,
And as thou sawest me do, see thou do even the same.
There is five trumps besides the queen, the hindmost thou shalt find her.
Take heed of Sim Glover's wife, she hath an eye behind her!
Now, Diccon, say your will.

Diccon. Nay, soft a little yet;
I would not tell it my sister, the matter is so great.
There I will have you swear by Our Dear Lady of Boulogne,
Saint Dunstan, and Saint Dominic, with the three Kings of Cologne,
That ye shall keep it secret.

Chat. Gog's bread! that will I do!
As secret as mine own thought, by God and the devil too!

Diccon. Here is Gammer Gurton, your neighbour, a sad and heavy wight:
Her goodly fair red cock at home was stole this last night.

Chat. Gog's soul! her cock with the yellow legs, that nightly crowed so just?

Diccon. That cock is stolen.

Chat. What, was he fet out of the hen's roost?

Diccon. I cannot tell where the devil he was kept, under key or lock;
But Tib hath tickled in Gammer's ear, that you should steal the cock.

Chat. Have I, strong whore? by bread and salt!—

Diccon. What, soft, I say, be still!
Say not one word for all this gear.

Chat. By the mass, that I will!
I will have the young whore by the head, and the old trot by the throat.

Diccon. Not one word, dame Chat, I say; not one word for my coat!

Chat. Shall such a beggar's brawl as that, thinkest thou, make me a thief?
The pox light on her whore's sides, a pestilence and mischief!
Come out, thou hungry needy bitch! O, that my nails be short!

Diccon. Gog's bread, woman, hold your
peace! this gear will else pass sport!
I would not for an hundred pound this matter should be known,
That I am author of this tale, or have abroad it blown.
Did ye not swear ye would be ruled, before the tale I told?
I said ye must all secret keep, and ye said sure ye would.

Chat. Would you suffer, yourself, Diccon, such a sort to revile you,
With slanderous words to blot your name, and so to defile you?

Diccon. No, Goodwife Chat, I would be loth such drabs should blot my name;
But yet ye must so order all that Diccon bear no blame.

Chat. Go to, then, what is your reed? say on your mind, ye shall me rule herein.

Diccon. Godamercy to dame Chat! In faith thou must the gear begin.
It is twenty pound to a goose-turd, my gammer will not tarry,
But hitherward she comes as fast as her legs can her carry,
To brawl with you about her cock; for well I heard Tib say
The cock was roasted in your house to breakfast yesterday;
And when ye had the carcase eaten, the feathers ye outflung,
And Doll, your maid, the legs she hid a foot-deep in the dung.

Chat. O gracious God! my heart it bursts!

Diccon. Well, rule yourself a space;
And Gammer Gurton when she cometh anon into this place,
Then to the quean, let's see, tell her your mind, and spare