spelling and punctuation. Copies of the original are to be found in the British Museum, Bodleian, and Huth libraries. It has been several times reprinted, but never before in modern days in a separate form: (1) in quarto in 1661; (2) in Hawkins' Origin of the English Drama, 1773; (3) in all the editions of Dodsley's Old Plays (1744, 1780, 1825, and 1876); (4) in The Ancient British Drama, ed. by Sir W. Scott, 1810; (5) in Old English Drama, 1830; (6) in Prof. Manly's Specimens of the Pre-Shakspearean Drama, 1897; and (7) in Gayley's Representative English Comedies, 1903.

A facsimile title-page will be found preceding the text, and the device of Thomas Colwell, the printer of the play, on page 64.

The song on page 12 is one of the oldest drinking-songs extant. An older version, modernised in spelling, is given below. Dr. Bradley does not regard it as likely to be "much older than the middle of the sixteenth century (the O.E.D. gives it as c. 1550), and it may possibly be later." As Skelton died 1529, the inference is obvious.

Back and side go bare, go bare;
Both hand and foot go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.

But if that I may have, truly,
Good ale my belly full,
I shall look like one (by sweet Saint John)
Were shorn against the wool.
Though I go bare, take ye no care,
I am nothing cold.
I stuff my skin so full within
Of jolly good ale and old.

I cannot eat but little meat;
My stomach is not good;
But sure I think that I could drink
With him that weareth a hood.
Drink is my life; although my wife
Some time do chide and scold,
Yet spare I not to ply the pot
Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side, &c.

I love no roast but a brown toast,
Or a crab in the fire;
A little bread shall do me stead,
Much bread I never desire.
Nor frost, nor snow, nor wind, I trow,
Can hurt me if it would;
I am so wrapped within, and lapped
With jolly good ale and old.
Back and side, &c.

I care right nought, I take no thought
For clothes to keep me warm;
Have I good drink, I surely think
Nothing can do me harm.
For truly then I fear no man,
Be he never so bold,
When I am armed, and thoroughly warmed
With jolly good ale and old.
Back and side, &c.

But now and then I curse and ban;
They make their ale so small!
God give them care, and evil to fare!
They strye the malt and all.
Such peevish pew, I tell you true,
Not for a crown of gold
There cometh one sip within my lip,
Whether it be new or old.
Back and side, &c.

Good ale and strong maketh me among
Full jocund and full light,
That oft I sleep, and take no keep
From morning until night.
Then start I up, and flee to the cup;
The right way on I hold.
My thirst to stanch I fill my paunch
With jolly good ale and old.
Back and side, &c.

And Kytte, my wife, that as her life
Loveth well good ale to seek,
Full oft drinketh she that ye may see
The tears run down her cheek.
Then doth she troll to me the bowl
As a good malt-worm should,
And say, "Sweetheart, I have taken my part
Of jolly good ale and old."
Back and side, &c.

They that do drink till they nod and wink,
Even as good fellows should do,
They shall not miss to have the bliss
That good ale hath brought them to.
And all poor souls that scour black bowls,
And them hath lustily trolled,
God save the lives of them and their wives,
Whether they be young or old!
Back and side, &c.

[Reduced facsimile of the Title-page of "Gammer Gurton's Needle" from the British Museum Copy.]

A Right Pithy, Pleasant, and Merry Comedy, entitled Gammer Gurton's Needle. Played on Stage not long ago in Christ's College in Cambridge. Made by Mr. S., M.A. Imprinted at London in Fleet Street, beneath the Conduit, at the sign of St. John Evangelist, by Thomas Colwell.

The Names of the Speakers in this Comedy:

Diccon, the Bedlam
Hodge, Gammer Gurton's Servant
Tib, Gammer Gurton's Maid
Gammer Gurton
Cock, Gammer Gurton's Boy
Dame Chat
Doctor Rat, the Curate
Master Baily
Doll, Dame Chat's Maid
Scapethrift, Master Baily's Servant
Mutes

God Save the Queen

GAMMER GURTON'S NEEDLE

The Prologue.

As Gammer Gurton with many a wide stitch
Sat piecing and patching of Hodge her man's breech,
By chance or misfortune, as she her gear toss'd,
In Hodge's leather breeches her needle she lost.
When Diccon