_Gammer._ How now, Tib? quycke, lets here what newes thou hast brought
hether!
_Tyb._ Chave tost and tumbled yender heap our and over againe,
And winowed it through my fingers, as men wold winow grain;
Not so much as a hens turd but in pieces I tare it,
Or what so ever clod or clay I found, I did not spare it, 5
Lokyng within and eke without, to fynd your neele, alas!
But all in vaine and without help! your neele is where it was.
_Gammer._ Alas my neele! we shall never meete! adue, adue, for aye!
_Tyb._ Not so, Gammer, we myght it fynd, if we knew where it laye.
_Cocke._ Gogs crosse, Gammer, if ye will laugh, looke in but at the
doore, 10
And see how Hodg lieth tombling and tossing amids the floure,
Rakyng there some fyre to fynd amonge the asshes dead,
Where there is not one sparke so byg as a pyns head;
At last in a darke corner two sparkes he thought he sees,
Which were indede nought els but Gyb our cats two eyes. 15
"Puffe!" quod Hodg, thinking therby to have fyre without doubt;
With that Gyb shut her two eyes, and so the fyre was out;
And by and by them opened, even as they were before;
With that the sparkes appered, even as they had done of yore;
And even as Hodge blew the fire (as he did thinke), 20
Gib, as she felt the blast, strayghtway began to wyncke;
Tyll Hodge fell of swering, as came best to his turne,
The fier was sure bewicht, and therfore wold not burne.
At last Gyb up the stayers, among the old postes and pinnes,
And Hodge he hied him after, till broke were both his shinnes; 25
Cursyng and swering othes were never of his makyng,
That Gyb wold fyre the house if that shee were not taken.
_Gammer._ See, here is all the thought that the foolysh urchyn taketh!
And Tyb, me thinke, at his elbowe almost as mery maketh.
This is all the wyt ye have, when others make their mone. 30
Cum downe, Hodge, where art thou? and let the cat alone!
_Hodge._ Gogs harte, help and come up! Gyb in her tayle hath fyre,
And is like to burne all, if shee get a lytle hier!
Cum downe, quoth you? nay, then you might count me a patch.[673]
The house commeth downe on your heads, if it take ons the
thatch. 35
_Gammer._ It is the cats eyes, foole, that shyneth in the darke.
_Hodge._ Hath the cat, do you thinke, in every eye a sparke?
_Gammer._ No, but they shyne as lyke fyre as ever man see.
_Hodge._ By the masse, and she burne all, yoush beare the blame for
mee!
_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.