_Hodge._ I say, Tib, if thou be Tib, as I trow sure thou be, What devil make-ado is this, between our dame and thee? _Tib._ Gog's bread, Hodge, thou had a good turn thou wert not here this while! It had been better for some of us to have been hence a mile; My gammer is so out of course and frantic all at once, That Cock, our boy, and I, poor wench, have felt it on our bones. _Hodge._ What is the matter--say on, Tib--whereat she taketh so on? _Tib._ She is undone, she saith; alas! her joy and life is gone! If she hear not of some comfort, she is, faith! but dead; Shall never come within her lips one inch of meat ne bread. _Hodge._ By'r lady, cham not very glad to see her in this dump. Chold a noble her stool hath fallen, and she hath broke her rump. _Tib._ Nay, and that were the worst, we would not greatly care For bursting of her huckle-bone, or breaking of her chair; But greater, greater, is her grief, as, Hodge, we shall all feel! _Hodge._ Gog's wounds, Tib, my gammer has never lost her nee'le? _Tib._ Her nee'le! _Hodge._ Her nee'le? _Tib._ Her nee'le! by him that made me, it is true, Hodge, I tell thee. _Hodge._ Gog's sacrament! I would she had lost th'heart out of her belly! The devil, or else his dame, they ought her, sure a shame! How a murrion came this chance, say, Tib! unto our dame? _Tib._ My gammer sat her down on her pes, and bad me reach thy breeches, And by and by--a vengeance in it! ere she had take two stitches To clout a clout upon thine arse, by chance aside she 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!