Hodge. "I say, Tyb, if thou be Tyb, as I trow | To clout a clout upon thine ars, by chaunce asyde sure thou bee,' What devyll make-a-doe is this betweene our dame and thee? Tyb. Gog's breade, Hodge, thou had a good turn thou wart not here this while; It had ben better for some of us to have ben hence a myle. My Gammer is so out of course, and frantyke all at ones, That Cocke, our boy, and I, poore wench, have felt it on our bones. Hodge. What is the matter; say on, Tyb, whereat she taketh so on? Tyb. She is undone, she sayth, (alas) her joye and life is gone. If she here not of some comfort, she sayth 12 she is but dead, Shall never come within her lyps, one inch of meate ne bread. Hodge. By'r ladie, cham not very glad to see her in this dumpe; Cholde a noble her stole hath fallen, and shee hath broke her rumpe. Tyb. Nay, and that were the worst, we wold not greatly care, For bursting of her huckle bone, or breakyng of her chaire. But greater, greater, is her grief, as Hodge we shall all feele. Hodge. Gog's woundes, Tyb, my Gammer has never lost her neele? Tyb. Her neele. Hodge. Her necle? Tyb. Her neele; by him that made me, it is true, Hodge, I tell thee. Hodge. Gog's sacrament! I would she had lost th'arte out of her bellie. The devill, or els his dame, they ought her sure a shame, How a murryon came this chaunce, (say, Tib,) unto our dame? Tyb. My Gainmer sat her down on her pes, and bad me reach thy breches, And by and by, a vengeance in it, or she had take two stitches, And she lears, Gyb our cat, in the milke-pan, she spied over head and eares. Ah hore, out these, she cryd aloud, and swapt the breches downe, Up went her staffe, and out leapt Gyh at doors into the towne. And synce that time was never wyght cold set their eies upon it. 13 Gog's malison, chave Cocke and I, byd twenty times light on it. Hodge. And is not then my breches sewid up, to morow that I shuld were! Tyb. No, in faith, Hodge, thy breches lie, for all this never the nere. Hodge. Now a vengeance light on al' the sort, that better shold have kept it; The cat, the house, and Tib our maid, that better shold have swept it. milke-pan. For these and ill lucke togather, as knoweth Cocke my boie, Have stacke 14 away my deare neele, and rob'd me of my joye. My fayre long strayght neele, that was myne onely treasure, The fyrst day of my sorow is, and last end of my pleasure. Hodge. Might ha kept it when ye had it; but fooles will be fooles styll: Lose that is vast in your handes? ye neede not, but ye will. Gam. Go hie thee, Tyb, and run, thou hoore, to th' end here of the towne, Again, 11 I say Tyb, if thou be Tyb, as I trow sure thou bee-Trow is an old word, which signifies believe. As in A. 5. S. 2. This prose I trow may serve, though no word spoke. A false knave, bi God's pitie, ye were, but a foole to trow him. Didst cary out dust in thy lap? seeke wher thou porest it downe; And as thou sawest me roking in the ashes where I morned, So see in all the heape of dust thou leave no straw unturned. Tyb. 16 That chal, Gammer, swythe and tyte, and sone be here agayne. Gam. Tyb, stoope and loke down to the ground to it, and take some paine. Hodge. Here is a prety matter, to see this gere how it goes: By Gog's soul, I thenk you wold lose your arse, and it were loose. Your neele lost? it is pitie you shold lack care and endlesse sorow. Gog's deth, how shall my breches be sewid? shall I go thus to morow? Gam. Ah, Hodge, Hodge, if that ich cold find my neele, by the reed, Ch'ould sow thy breches, ich promise the, with full good double threed, And set a patch on either knee, shuld last this monethes twaine. Now God and good saint Sithe I pray, to send it home 17 againe, Hodge. Wherto served your hands and eies, but this your neele to kepe? What devill had you els to do? ye keep, ich wot, no sheepe. Cham faine abrode to dyg and delve, in water, myre, and claye, Sossing and possing in the durte styll from day to daye. A hundred thinges that be abrode, cham set to see them weele: And foure of you syt idle at home, and cannot keepe a neele. Gam. My neele, alas, ich lost it, Hodge, what time ich me up hasted, To save milke set up for the, which Gib our cat hath wasted. Hodge. The devill he burst both Gib and Tyb, with all the rest; Cham alwayes sure of the worst end, whoever have the best. Where ha you ben fidging abrode, since you your neele lost? Gam. Within the house, and at the dore, sitting by this same post; Wher I was loking a long howre, before these folks came here; But, welaway! all was in vayne, my neele is never the nere. Hodge. Set me a candle, let me seeke, and grope where ever it bec. Gog's heart, ye be folish (ich thinke) you knowe it not when you it see. Gam. Come hether, Cocke; what, Cocke, I say! Gam. Goe, hye thee soone, and grope behynd Whych thing when thou hast done, Ther shalt thou fynd an old shooe, wherein, if thou looke well, Thou shalt fynd lyeng an inche of whyte tallow candell; Lyght it, and bringe it tite awaye. Cocke. That shall be done anone. Gam. Nay, tary, Hodge, till thou hast light, and then weele seke ech one. Hodge. Cum away, ye horson boy, are ye asleepe? ye must have a crier. Cocke. Ich cannot get the candel light, here is almost no fier. Hodge. Chil hold the a peny, chil make thee come if that ich may catch thine eares. Art deffe, thou horson boy? Cocke, I say, why canst not hear's? Gam. Beate hyni not, Hodge, but helpe the boy, THE FIFTH SCEANE. Gam. How now, Tyb! quicke, let's here what Tyb. Chave tost and tumbled yender heap over and over againe, And winowed it through my fingers, as men wold winow grain; Not so much as a hen's turd, but in pieces I tare it. Or what so ever clod or clay I found, I did not spare it. Lokyng within, and eke without, to find your neele, (alas!) 15 Dowde, other edits. 16 That chal, Gammer, swythe and tyte, and sone be here agayne—Swythe and tyte, swiftly and directly, Hence swythe to doctor Rat hye the that thou were gone. Thou shalt fynd lyeng an inche of whyte tallow candell, 17 Home-Mr Dodsley reads, back again. A. 1. S. 4. A. 3. S. 3. VOL. I. But all in vaine; and, without helpe, your neele | Cursynge and sweering oths, were never of his is where it was. makyng, That Gyb wold fyre the house, if that shee were not taken. Gam. See here is all the thought that the foolysh urchyn taketh! And Tyb methinke, at his elbow, almost as mery maketh. This is all the wyt ye have when others make their 18 Alas, my neele we shall never meete! adue, adue for aye.-Adieu, adieu for ever. As in the following instances: For aye to be in shady cloister mew'd. Midsummer Night's Dream, A. 1. Marlow's Edward II. See Mr Steevens's Shakspeare, Vol. III. p. 7. Vol. IV. p. 565. 19 Cum downe, quoth you? nay, then you might count me a patch." This term (says Mr Malone) came into use from the name of a celebrated fool. This I learn from Wilson's Art of Rhetorique, 1553: 'A word making, called of the Grecians Onomatopiea, is when we make words of our own mind, such as be derived from the nature of things.'-As to call one Patche, or Cowlson, whom we see to do a thing foolishly; because these two, in their time, were notable fools. "Probably the dress which the celebrated Patch wore, was, in allusion to his name, patched or parti coloured. Hence the stage-fool has ever since been exhibited in a motley-coat. In Rowley's When you see me, you know me; or, Hist. of King Henry VIII. 1632, Cardinal Wolsey's Fool Patch is introduced. Perhaps he was the original Patch of whom Wilson speaks."-Note on Merchant of Venice, A. 2. S. 5. In Chaloner's Translation of the Praise of Folly, by Erasmus, 1549, is the following passage: " And by the fayeth ye owe to the immortal godds, may any thing to an indifferent considerer be deemed more hap pie and blissful than is this kinde of men whome commonly ye call fooles, poltes, ideotes, and paches?" Again, "I have subtraied these my selie paches, who not onelye themselves are ever mery, playing, sing ing, and laughyng, but also whatever they doo, are provokers of others lykewyse to pleasure, sporte, and Jaughter, as who sayeth ordeyned herefore by the godds of theyr benevolence to recreate the sadnesse of men's lyves." 20 To God I make a vowe, and so to good saint Anne, A candell shall they have a peece, get it where I can.-In all cases of distress, and whenever the assistance of a superior power was necessary, it was usual with the Roman Catholics to promise their tu telary saints to light up candles at their altars, to induce them to be propitious to such applications as were made to them. The reader will see a very ridiculous story of this kind in the first volume of Lord Oxford's Collection of Voyages, p. 771. quoted in Dr Gray's Notes on Shakespeare, Vol. I. p. 7. Erasmus has a story to the same purpose in his Naufragium. 21 Alluding to the drunkenness of the Friars. 22 I love no rost, but a nut-browne toste, Again, Again, and a crab layde in the fyre.-So, in the 3d Act, 4th Scene: A cup of ale had in his hand, and a crab lay in the fyer, Now a crab in the fire were woorth a good grote, And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl, Like will to like, c. 21. Midsummer's Night's Dream, A. 2. S. 1. Upon this last passage, Mr Steevens has given the following examples of the use of this word; Yet we will have in store a crab in the fire, And sit down in my chaire by my faire Alison, Henry V. Anon, And turn a crabbe in the fire as merry as Pope Joan. Damon and Pithias ....Sitting in a corner turning crabs, Or coughing o'er a warmed pot of ale. Description of Christmas, in Summer's Last Will and Testament, by Nash, 1600. 23 Then dooth she troule to mee the bowle," Trowle, or trole the bowl, was a common phrase in drinking for passing the vessel about, as appears by the following beginning of an old Catch: thy worst. Now let them drynke, tyll they nod and winke, | This gere it warms the soule, now wind blow on even as good felowes shoulde doe, They shall not misse to have the blisse good ale doth bringe men to: And all poor squles, that have scowred boules, or have them lustely trolde, God save the lyves of them and their wyves, whether they be yonge or olde. Back and syde go bare, &c. THE FYRST SCEANE DICCON, HODGE. Dic. Well done, by Gog's malt, well songe and Come on, mother Chat, as thou art 24 a true mayde. And let us drink and swill till that our bellies burste; 25 26 . Giv't us weele pledge, nor shall a man that lives Marston's Parasitaster or Fawne, A. 5. Now the cups trole about to wet the gossips whistles, A Chast Mayd in Cheapeside, p. 34. -Naked armes-See Dekker's Description of an Abraham-man, p. 101. -Sweate and swyncke;-To swynke, is to work, or labour, ; as in Spenser's Fairy Queen, B. 2. Cant. 7. St. 8: "For which men swink and sweat incessantly.” Again, in Comus, by Milton, 1. 293: "And the swinkt hedger at his supper sat." Also, in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, Prol. I. 184: "What shulde he studie, make himselven wood, And, in Pierce Plowman's Vision: "Hermets an heape with hoked staves, |