Comedy plays; English drama -- Early modern and Elizabethan, 1500-1600
_Hodge._ Soft, Diccon, be not too hasty yet,
By the mass, for ich begin to sweat!
Cham afraid of some harm.
_Diccon._ Come hither, then, and stir thee not
One inch out of this circle plat,
But stand as I thee teach.
_Hodge._ And shall ich be here safe from their claws?
_Diccon._ The master-devil with his long paws
Here to thee cannot reach--
Now will I settle me to this gear.
_Hodge._ I say, Diccon, hear me, hear!
Go softly to this matter!
_Diccon._ What devil, man? art afraid of nought?
_Hodge._ Canst not tarry a little thought
Till ich make a courtesy of water?
_Diccon._ Stand still to it; why shouldest thou fear him?
_Hodge._ Gog's sides, Diccon, me-think ich hear him!
And tarry, chall mar all!
_Diccon._ The matter is no worse than I told it.
_Hodge._ By the mass, cham able no longer to hold it!
Too bad! ich must beray the hall!
_Diccon._ Stand to it, Hodge! stir not, you whoreson!
What devil, be thine arse-strings brusten?
Thyself a while but stay,
The devil (I smell him) will be here anon.
_Hodge_. Hold him fast, Diccon, cham gone!
Chill not be at that fray!
THE SECOND ACT. THE SECOND SCENE.
DICCON, CHAT.
_Diccon._ Fie, shitten knave, and out upon thee!
Above all other louts, fie on thee!
Is not here a cleanly prank,
But thy matter was no better,
Nor thy presence here no sweeter,
To fly I can thee thank.
Here is a matter worthy glosing,
Of Gammer Gurton's needle losing,
And a foul piece of wark!
A man I think might make a play,
And need no word to this they say
Being but half a clerk.
Soft, let me alone, I will take the charge
This matter further to enlarge
Within a time short.
If ye will mark my toys, and note,
I will give ye leave to cut my throat
If I make not good sport.
Dame Chat, I say, where be ye? within?
_Chat._ Who have we there maketh such a din?
_Diccon._ Here is a good fellow, maketh no great danger.
_Chat._ What, Diccon? Come near, ye be no stranger.
We be fast set at trump, man, hard by the fire;
Thou shalt set on the king, if thou come a little nigher.
_Diccon._ Nay, nay, there is no tarrying; I must be gone again.
But first for you in counsel I have a word or twain.
_Chat._ Come hither, Doll! Doll, sit down and play this game,
And as thou sawest me do, see thou do even the same.
There is five trumps besides the queen, the hindmost thou shalt find
her.
Take heed of Sim Glover's wife, she hath an eye behind her!
Now, Diccon, say your will.
_Diccon._ Nay, soft a little yet;
I would not tell it my sister, the matter is so great.
There I will have you swear by Our Dear Lady of Boulogne,
Saint Dunstan, and Saint Dominic, with the three Kings of Cologne,
That ye shall keep it secret.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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