leers,
And Gib, our cat, in the milk-pan she spied over head and ears.
"Ah, whore! out, thief!" she crief aloud, and swept the breeches down.
Up went her staff, and out leapt Gib at doors into the town,
And since that time was never wight could set their eyes upon it.
Gog's malison chave Cock and I bid twenty times light on it.

Hodge. And is not then my breeches sewed up, to-morrow that I should wear?

Tib. No, in faith, Hodge, thy breeches lie for all this never the near.

Hodge. Now a vengeance light on all the sort, that better should have kept it,
The cat, the house, and Tib, our maid, that better should have swept it!
See where she cometh crawling! come on, in twenty devils' way!
Ye have made a fair day's work, have you not? pray you, say!

THE FIRST ACT. THE FOURTH SCENE.

Gammer, Hodge, Tib, Cock.

Gammer. Alas, Hodge, alas! I may well curse and ban
This day, that ever I saw it, with Gib and the milk-pan;
For these and ill-luck together, as knoweth Cock, my boy,
Have stack away my dear nee'le, and robbed me of my joy,
My fair long straight nee'le, that was mine only treasure;
The first day of my sorrow is, and last end of my pleasure!

Hodge (aside). Might ha' kept it, when ye had it! but fools will be fools still,
Lose that is vast in your hands ye need not but ye will.

Gammer. Go hie thee, Tib, and run thou, whore, to th'end here of the town!
Didst carry out dust in thy lap? seek where thou pourest it down;
And as thou sawest me roking, in the ashes where I mourned,
So see in all the heap of dust thou leave no straw unturned.

Tib. That chall, Gammer, swyth and tite, and soon be here again!

Gammer. Tib, stoop and look down to the ground to it, and take some pain.

Hodge. Here is a pretty matter, to see this gear how it goes:
By Gog's soul, I think you would lose your arse, and it were loose!
Your nee'le lost? it is pity you should lack care and endless sorrow.
Gog's death! how shall my breeches be sewed?
Shall I go thus to-morrow?

Gammer. Ah, Hodge, Hodge! if that ich could find my nee'le, by the reed,
Ch'ould sew thy breeches, ich promise thee, with full good double thread,
And set a patch on either knee should last this moneths twain.
Now God and good Saint Sithe, I pray to send it home again!

Hodge. Whereto served your hands and eyes, but this your nee'le to keep?
What devil had you else to do? ye keep, ich wot, no sheep!
Cham fain abroad to dig and delve, in water, mire, and clay,
Sossing and possing in the dirt still from day to day.
A hundred things that be abroad, cham set to see them well,
And four of you sit idle at home, and cannot keep a nee'le!

Gammer. My nee'le! alas! ich lost it, Hodge, what time ich me up hasted
To save the milk set up for thee, which Gib, our cat, hath wasted.

Hodge. The devil he burst both Gib and Tib, with all the rest!
Cham always sure of the worst end, whoever have the best!
Where ha' you been fidging abroad, since you your nee'le lost?

Gammer. Within the house, and at the door, sitting by this same post,
Where I was looking a long hour, before these folks came here;
But, wellaway, all was in vain, my nee'le is never the near!

Hodge. Set me a candle, let me seek, and grope wherever it be.
Gog's heart, ye be foolish ich think, you know it not when you it see!

Gammer. Come hither, Cock: what, Cock, I say!

Cock. How, Gammer?

Gammer. Go, hie thee soon,
And grope behind the old brass pan, which thing when thou hast done,
There shalt thou find an old shoe, wherein, if thou look well,
Thou shalt find lying an inch of a white tallow candle;
Light it, and bring it tite away.

Cock. That shall be done anon.

Gammer. Nay, tarry, Hodge, till thou hast light, and then we'll seek each one.

Hodge. Come away, ye whoreson boy, are ye asleep? ye must have a crier!

Cock. Ich cannot get the candle light: here is almost no fire.

Hodge. Chill hold thee a penny, chill make thee come, if that ich may catch thine ears!
Art deaf, thou whoreson boy? Cock, I say; why, canst not hear?

Gammer. Beat him not, Hodge, but help the boy, and come you two together.

THE FIRST ACT. THE FIFTH SCENE.

Gammer, Tib, Cock, Hodge.

Gammer. How now, Tib? quick, let's hear what news thou hast brought hither!

Tib. Chave tost and tumbled yonder heap over and over again,
And winnowed it through my fingers, as men would winnow grain;
Not so much as a hen's turd, but in pieces I tare it;
Or whatsoever clod or clay I found, I did not spare it,
Looking within and eke without, to find your nee'le, alas!
But all in vain and without help! your nee'le is where it was.

Gammer. Alas, my nee'le! we shall never meet! adieu, adieu, for aye!

Tib. Not so, Gammer, we might it find, if we knew where it lay.

Cock. Gog's cross, Gammer, if ye will laugh, look in but at the door,
And see how Hodge lieth tumbling and tossing amids the flour,
Raking there some fire to find among the ashes dead,
Where there is not one spark so big as a pin's head:
At last in a dark corner two sparks he thought he sees,
Which were indeed nought else but Gib our cat's two eyes.
"Puff!" quod Hodge, thinking thereby to have fire without doubt;
With that Gib shut her two eyes, and so the fire was out;
And by and by them opened, even as they were before;
With that the sparks appeared, even as they had done of yore;
And even as Hodge blew the fire (as he did think),
Gib, as she felt the blast, straightway began to wink;
Till Hodge fell of swearing, as came best to his turn,
The fire was sure bewitch'd, and therefore would not burn;
At last Gib up the stairs, among the old posts and pins,
And Hodge he hied him after, till broke were both his shins:
Cursing and swearing oaths were never of his making,
That Gib would fire the house if that she were not taken.

Gammer. See, here is all the thought that the foolish urchin taketh!
And Tib, me-think, at his elbow almost as merry maketh.
This is all the wit ye have, when others make their moan.
Come down, Hodge, where art thou? and let the cat alone!

Hodge. Gog's heart, help and come up! Gib in her tail hath fire,
And is like to burn all, if she get a little higher!
Come down, quoth you? nay, then you might count me a patch,
The house cometh down on your heads, if it take once the thatch.

Gammer. It is the cat's eyes, fool, that shineth in the dark.

Hodge. Hath the cat, do you think, in every eye a spark?

Gammer. No, but they shine as like fire as ever man see.

Hodge. By the mass, and she burn all, you sh' bear the blame for me!

Gammer. Come down and help to seek here our nee'le, that it were found.
Down, Tib, on the knees, I say! Down, Cock, to the ground!
To God I make a vow, and so to good Saint Anne,
A candle shall they have a-piece, get it where I