The fyrst Sceane. Diccon. Hodge. Diccon Well done be Gogs malt well songe and well sayde, Come on mother Chat as thou art true mayde. One fresh pot of ale lets see to make an ende Agaynst this colde wether, my maked armes to defende, This gere it warms the soule, now wind blow on the worst, And let us drink and swill, till that our bellies burste Now were he a wyse man, by cunnynge colde defyne Which way my Iourney lyeth or where Dyccon will dyne But one good turne I haue be it by nyght or daye South East North or west I am neuer out of my waye Hodge Chym goodly rewarded, cham I not, do you thyncke? Chad a goodly dynner for all my seate and swyncke, Neyther butter cheese, mylke onyons fleshe nor fyshe Saue thys poor pece of barly bread, tis a pleas costly dishe. Diccon Haile fellow Hodge & well to fare wt thy meat, if yu haue any? But by thy words as I then smelled thy damtrels be not manye. Hodge Daintrels diccon (gogs soule man) saue this pece of dry horsbred, Cha byt no byt this lyue longe daie no crome come in my hed My gutts they yawle crawle and all my be rumbleth The puddynges can not lye still ech one ouer other tumbleth By gogs harte cham so vente and in my belly pende Chould one peece were at the spittlehouse another at ye castels ende. Diccon Why hodge was there none at home thy dinner for to set: Hodge Godgs bread Diccon ich came to late, was nothing ther to get Gib (a fowle feind might on her hght) lick ye milke pan so clene See Diccon, twas not so wellwasht this .vii. yere as ich wene A pestilence lyght on all ill lucke, chad thought yet for all thys Of a morsell of bacon behynde the dore at worst shuld not misse, But when ich sought a slyp to cut, as ich was wont to do Gogs soule Diccon, gyb our Cat had eate the bacon to. Which bacon Diccon stole, as is declared before. Diccon Ill luck quod he mary swere it hodg, this day ye trueth to tel Thou rose not on thy right syde, or els blest thee not wel, Thy mylk slopt vp thy bacon filtched, that was to bad luck hodg. Hodge Nay nay ther was a fowler fault, my gammer ga me ye dodge Seest not how cham rent & torn, my heels, my knees & my breech Chad thought as ich sat by the fire, help here & there a stitch, But there ich was powpte indeede. Diccon Why Hodge? Hodge Bootes not man to tell, Cham so drest amonst a sorte of fooles, chad better be in hell, My gammer (cham ashamed to say) by god serued me not weele Diccon How so Hodge? Hodge Bootes not man to tell, Cham so drest amonst a sorte of fooles, chad better be in hell, My gammer (chain ashamed to say)by god serued me not weele Diccon How so Hodge? Hodge Hase she not gone trowest now and lost her neele. Diccon Her Eele Hodge who fysht of late? that was a damty dysh. Hodge Tush tush, her neele, her neele, her neele man. Tys neyther flesh nor fysh. A lytle thing with an hole in the end, as bright as any syller, Small, longe, sharpe at the poynt, & straight as any pyller. Diccon I know not what a deuil yu menest, yu brigst me more in doubt Hodge Knowest not wt what tom tailers man, sits broching throughe a clout A neele, neele, a neele, my gammers neele is gone. Diccon Her neele Hodge, now I smel thee, yt was a chaunce alone, By ye masse yn hadst a shamefull losse & it wer but for thy breches Hodge Gogs soule man chould giue a crown chad it but iii stitches. Diccon How sayest yu Hodg, what shuld he haue, again thy neele got Hodge Bem vathers soule, and chad it chould giue him a new grot. Diccon Canst thou keepe counsaile in this case. Hodge E1s chwold my tonge were out. Diccon Do thou but then by my aduise, & I will fetch it wtout doubt, Hodge Chyll runne chyll ryde, chyll dygge, chyl delue, chill toyle, chill trudge sha lt see: Chill hold chil drawe, chil pull, chill pynche chill kneele on my bare knee. Chill scrape chill scratche, chill skte, chyll seeke, chill bowe, chill bende, chill sweate, Chil stoop, chil stur, chil cap chil knele, chil crepe on hands & feete, Chil be thy bondman Diccon, ich sweare by sunne and moone And channot sum what to stop this gap, chaiu vtterly vndone Poinfing bchind to his torne breeches. Diccon Why, is ther any special cause, thou takest hereat such sorow Hodge Kirstian Clack Tom simsons maid, bi the masse coms hether to morow Chamnot able to say, betweene vs what may hap, She smyled on me the last sonday when ich put of my cap, Diccon Well Hodge this is a matter of weight, & must be kept close, It might els turne to both our costes as the world now gose, Shalt sware to be no blab Hodge. Hodge Chyll Diccon. Diccon Then go to, Lay thine haud here say after me as thou shalt here me do Haste no booke? Hodge Cha no booke I. Diccon Then needes must force vs both, Upon my breech to lay thme hand, and there to take thme othe. Hodge I Hodge breechele, Sweare to Diccon rechelesse By the crosse that I shall kysse, To kepe his counsaile close And alwayes me to dispose To worke that his pleasure is. Here he kysseth Diccons breeche. Diccon Now Hodge see thou take heede And do as I thee byd For so I iudge it meete, This nedle againe to win Thgere is no shift therin But coniure vp a spreet. Hodge What the great deuill Diccon I saye? Diccon Yea in good faith, that is the waye, Fet with some prety charme. Hodgc Softe Diccon be not to hasty yet, By the masse for ich begyn to sweat Cham afrayde of some harme. Diccon Come hether then and sturre the nat One mche out of this Cyrcle plat But stande as I thee teache. Hodge And shall ich be here safe from theyr clawes: The mayster deuill with his longe pawes Here to thee can not reache: Now will I settle me to this geare. Hodge I saye Diccon heare me heare: Go softely to thys matter. Diccon What deuyll man art afraide of nought Hodge Canst not tarrye a lytle thought Tyll ich make a curtesie of water. Diccon Stand still to it why shuldest thou fearehym? Hodge Gogs sydes Diccon me thinke ich heare him And tarrye chal mare all. Diccon The matter is no worse then I tolde it, Hodge By the masse cham able no longer to holde it, To bad iche must beraye the hall. Diccon Stand to it Hodge sture not you horson, What Deuyll be thine ars strynges brusten? Thy selfe a while but staye, The deuill I smell hym wyll be here anone. Hodge Hold him fast Diccon, cham gone, cham gone Chyll not be at that fraye.