_Hodge._ Yea, Gogs soule, art alive yet? What, Diccon, dare ich come? 5 _Diccon._ A man is wel hied to trust to thee; I wil say nothing but mum; But and ye come any nearer, I pray you see all be sweete! _Hodge._ Tush, man, is Gammers neele found? that chould gladly weete. _Diccon._ She may thanke thee it is not found, for if thou had kept thy standing, The devil he wold have fet it out, even, Hodge, at thy commaunding. 10 _Hodge._ Gogs hart, and cold he tel nothing wher the neele might be found? _Diccon._ Ye folysh dolt, ye were to seek, ear we had got our ground; Therefore his tale so doubtfull was that I cold not perceive it. _Hodge._ Then ich se wel somthing was said, chope[687] one day yet to have it. But Diccon, Diccon, did not the devill cry "ho, ho, ho"? 15 _Diccon._ If thou hadst taryed where thou stoodst, thou woldest have said so! _Hodge._ Durst swere of a boke, chard him rore, streight after ich was gon. But tel me, Diccon, what said the knave? let me here it anon. _Diccon._ The horson talked to mee, I know not well of what. One whyle his tonge it ran and paltered of a cat, 20 Another whyle he stamered styll uppon a Rat; Last of all, there was nothing but every word, Chat, Chat; But this I well perceyved before I wolde him rid, Betweene Chat, and the Rat, and the cat, the nedle is hyd. Now wether Gyb, our cat, have eate it in her mawe, 25 Or Doctor Rat, our curat, have found it in the straw, Or this Dame Chat, your neighbour, have stollen it, God hee knoweth! But by the morow at this time, we shal learn how the matter goeth. _Hodge._ Canst not learn tonight, man? seest not what is here? (_Pointyng behind to his torne breeches._) _Diccon._ Tys not possyble to make it sooner appere. 30 _Hodge._ Alas, Diccon, then chave no shyft, but--least ich tary to longe-- Hye me to Sym Glovers shop, theare to seeke for a thonge, Therwith this breech to tatche and tye as ich may. _Diccon._ To morow, Hodg, if we chaunce to meete, shall see what I will say. The ii Acte. The iiii Sceane. DICCON. GAMMER. _Diccon._ Now this gere must forward goe, for here my gammer commeth. Be still a while and say nothing; make here a little romth.[688] _Gammer._ Good Lord, shall never be my lucke my neele agayne to spye? Alas, the whyle! tys past my helpe, where tis still it must lye! _Diccon._ Now, Jesus! Gammer Gurton, what driveth you to this sadnes? 5 I feare me, by my conscience, you will sure fall to madnes.