_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.