_Gammer._ Cum downe and helpe to seeke here our neele, that it were found. 40 Downe, Tyb, on the knees, I say! Downe, Cocke, to the ground! To God I make avowe, and so to good Saint Anne, A candell shall they have a pece, get it where I can, If I may my neele find in one place or in other. _Hodge._ Now a vengeaunce on Gyb light, on Gyb and Gybs mother, 45 And all the generacyon of cats both far and nere! Loke on this ground, horson, thinks thou the neele is here? _Cocke._ By my trouth, Gammer, me thought your neele here I saw, But when my fyngers toucht it, I felt it was a straw. _Tyb._ See, Hodge, whats t[h]ys? may it not be within it? 50 _Hodge._ Breake it, foole, with thy hand, and see and thou canst fynde it. _Tyb._ Nay, breake it you, Hodge, accordyng to your word. _Hodge._ Gogs sydes! fye! it styncks; it is a cats tourd! It were well done to make thee eate it, by the masse! _Gammer._ This matter amendeth not; my neele is still where it wasse. 55 Our candle is at an ende, let us all in quight, And come another tyme, when we have more lyght. The Second Acte. _First a Song._[674] Backe and syde go bare, go bare, Booth foote and hande go colde; But bellye, God send thee good ale ynoughe, Whether it be newe or olde. I can not eate but lytle meate, My stomacke is not good; But sure I thinke that I can drinke With him that weares a hood. Thoughe I go bare, take ye no care, I am nothinge a colde; I stuffe my skyn so full within Of joly good ale and olde. Backe and syde go bare, go bare, etc. I love no rost but a nut browne toste And a crab layde in the fyre.[675] A lytle bread shall do me stead: Much breade I not desyre. No froste nor snow, no winde, I trowe, Can hurte mee if I wolde; I am so wrapt, and throwly lapt Of joly good ale and olde. Backe and syde go bare, etc. And Tyb my wyfe, that as her lyfe Loveth well good ale to seeke, Full ofte drynkes shee tyll ye may see The teares run downe her cheeke; Then dooth she trowle to mee the bowle Even as a mault worme shuld; And sayth, sweete hart, I tooke my part Of this joly good ale and olde. Backe and syde go bare, etc. Now let them drynke till they nod and winke, Even as good felowes shoulde doe; They shall not miss to have the bliss Good ale doth bringe men to; And all poore soules that have scowred boules, Or have them lustly trolde, God save the lyves of them and theyr wyves, Whether they be yonge or olde. Backe and syde go bare, etc. [The Second Acte.] The Fyrst Sceane. DICCON. HODGE.