A Right Pithy, Pleasant, and Merry COMEDY, ENTITULED, Gammer Gurtons Needle; Played on the Stage near a hundred years ago in Christs-Colledge in CAMBRIDGE.
Made by Mr. S. Master of Art.
LONDON: Printed by Tho. Johnson, and are to be sold by Nath. Brook at the Angel in Cornhil, Francis Kirkman at the John Fletchers Head, on the Back-side of St. Clements, Tho. Johnson at the Golden Key in Pauls-Church-yard, and Henry Marsh at the Princes Arms in Chancery-lane, near Fleet-street, 1661.
The Names of the SPEAKERS i [...] [...] [...]y.
MUTES.
God save the KING.
The PROLOGUE.
The first Act.
The first Scean.
The first Acte.
The second Sceane
Now ich beseech our Lord they never better agree.
Why Hodge art thou inspired? or didst thou thereof here?
Why Hodge lies the conning in Tom tankards cowes tail?
The fist Acte.
The third Sceane.
What is the matter, say on Tib whereat she taketh so on?
Gogs wounds Tib, my gammer has never lost her Néele?
Her Néele?
Her néele?
Her neele hy him that made me, it is true Hodge I tell thee,
And is not thē my breches sewid up, to morrow y t I shuld wear
No in faith hodge thy breches lie, for all this never the near
The first Act.
The iiii. Sceane.
That chal gammer swithe and tite, and sone be here again,
Tib stoop & loke down to y e ground to it, and take some pain.
Come hether Cocke, what Cocke I say?
How Gammer.
That shalbe done anone.
Nay tary hodge till thou hast light, and then weel seek ich one
Cum away ye horson boy, are yeasleep? ye must have a crier
Ich cannot get the candle light, here is almost no fire
Beat him not Hodge but helpe the boy and come you two together.
The i. Acte.
The v. Sceane
HOw now Tib, quick lets here, what news thou hast brought hether?
Alas my neele we shall never meet, adue, adue for aye.
Not so gammer, we might it finde if we knew where it lay.
It is the cats eyes fool that shineth in the dark.
Hath the Cat do you think in every eye a spark?
No, but they shine as like fire as ever man sée.
By the mass and she burn all, yoush bear the blame for me
See Hodge what 'tis, may it not be within it,
Break it sool with thy hand, and sée, & thou canst finde it.
Nay break it you Hodge according to your word.
The ii Acte.
First a Song.
The first Sceane.
Why hodg, was there none at home thy dinner for to set?
Why Hodg?
How so Hodg?
Hase she not gone trowest now and lost ber néele.
Her Eele Hodg, who fisht of late? that was a dainty dish.
I know not what a devil y u m̄est, y u bringst me more in doubt
How sayest y u Hodg, what shuld he have, again thy nedle got
Bem vathers soul, and chad it chould give him a new grot.
Canst thou kéep counsaile in this case.
Els chwold my thong were out.
Do than but then by my advise. & I wil fetch it w tout doubt,
Chyll run, chyll ride, chyll dygge, chyll delue, chill toyle, chill trudge shalt sée:
Why, is ther any special causs, thou takest hereat such sorow
Chill Diccon.
Cha no book I.
What the great devil Diccon I say?
And shall ich be here safe from their clawes?
What devil man, art afraide of nought
Stand still to it, why shuldest thou fear him?
The matter is no worse then I told it,
The ii. Acte.
The ii. Sceane.
Who have we there maketh such a din?
Here is a good fellow, maketh no great daunger,
Gogs soul her Cock with the yelow legs, y t nightly crowed so just?
That cock is stollen.
What was he fet out of the hens ruste?
Have I strong hoor? by bread and salt.
Not one word dame Chat I say, not one word for my cote.
Go to then, what is your rede say on your minde, ye shall me rule herein.
Oh gracious god my heart is burstes.
Yea gogs soul, art alive yet? what Diccon dare ich come?
Tush man, is gammers neele found, y t chould gladly weete,
Gogs ha [...]t, & cold he tel nothing wher y t neele might be found
If y u hadst taried where thou stoodst, thou woldest have said so,
Tis not possible to make it sooner appere,
The ii. Acte.
The iii. Sceane.
Who is that? what Diccon? cham lost man: fye, fye.
Mary fye on them y t be worthy, but w t shuld be your troble?
Your néele, whan?
If this be all good gammer, I warrant you all is save.
Why know you any tidings which way my néele is gone?
A suttle quean as any in the town, your neighbour here dame Chat.
Dame chat diccō let me be gone, chil thither in post haste.
Gogs bread, and thinks y e callet thus to kéep my néele me fro?
The ii. Acte.
The v. Sceane.
The iii. Acte.
The i Sceane.
The iii. Acte.
The ii Sceane.
The devil thou does, hast hard gammer in deed, or doest but jest?
Tis as true as steel Hodg.
Why knowest well where didst leese it?
Ich know who found it, and took it up, shalt see or it be long.
That false fixen, that same dame Chat, that counts her self so honest
Who told you so?
That same did Diccon the bedlam, which saw it done.
Was not thou afraide Hodg to see him in this place?
But Hodg, had he no horns to pushe?
New Iesus mercy hodg, did diccon in him bring?
The iii. Acte.
The iii. Sceane.
Did I (old witch) steal oft was thine? how should that thing be known?
Ich can not tel but up thou tokest it as though it had bin thine own,
Mary fy on thee, thou old giv, with all my very hart.
Nay fy on thée y u rampe, thou rig, with al that take thy part.
A vengeaunce on those lips y t layeth such things to my charge
A vengeance on those callats hips, whose consciēce is so large
Come out Hogge.
Come out hog, and let have me right.
Thou argant Witche.
Thou bawdie bitche, chil make thée curse this night.
A bag and a wallet.
A carte for a callet.
Stand to it y u dastard for thine ears, ise teche y e a sluttish coy,
Gogs wounds hore, chill make the auaunte, take héed Cock, pull in the latche,
I faith sir loose breche had ye taried ye shold have found your match.
Fow ware thy throte losel, thoese pray for all;
A hodg, hodg, where was thy help, when fixen had me down?
Chil ha him strait, call out the boy, wese make him take y e pain
What coke I say, come out, what devil canst not here?
And shall ich bring him with me Gammer?
The iii. Acte.
The iiii. Sceane.
Ich can féele nothing.
Rake a Cat Hodg, what woldst thou do?
Soft be content, lets here what news Cock bringeth from maist Rat.
Where didst thou finde him bay, was he not wher I told thée?
The ii. Acte.
The iiii. Sceam.
A good M. Doctor, cha troubled, cha troubled you, chwot wel that
How do ye woman, be ye lustie, or be ye not wel at ease?
Hach your browne cow cast hir calfe, or your sandy sowe her pigs
No but chad ben as good they had, as this ich wot weel.
What is the matter,
What was she that:
The iiii. Acte.
The ii. Sceane.
By the masse I can the thank wench, y u didst so wel acquite' the
Why? makes the knave any moyling, as ye have seene or hard
The knave dare as well go hang himself, as go upon my groūd
Yes by the masse, a hole broke down, even w tin these ii. dayes,
Hodge, he intends this same night, to slip in there awayes.
O Christ that I were sure of it, in faith he shuld have his mede
What good newes Diccon? fellow, is mother chat at house?
The thing that thou wentst for, hast thou brought it to passe?
Why hast thou spied the naele, quickly I pray thee tell.
How so I pray thee Diccon?
O Diccon that I was not there, then in thy steade.
Art thou sure diccon the swel tub standes not here about?
Help Diccon, out alas, I shall be slain among them,
The v. Acte.
The i. Sceane
Is not this evil ynough, I pray you thinke?
The vi. Acte.
The ii. Sceane.
Be like then master Doctor, your stripe there ye got not.
What man, will you say I broke your head?
How canst thou prove the contrary?
Nay how protest thou that I did the deade?
Answere me to this M. Rat, when caught you this harme of yours?
A while a go sir, god he knoweth, w tin les thē these ii. hours.
Who was it then? lets here.
Yet telles thou not who it was.
But knowest thou not his name?
Was he yot there? loke on his pate, that shalbe his witnes,
I wold my head were halfe so hole, I wold seek no redresse.
God blesse you gammer Gurton.
God dilde you master mine.
What have I stoln from the or thine thou ilfavored old trot?
Alas Sir, heel be here anon, ha be handled too bad,
Chil shew you his face ich warrant the, lo-now where he is.
Ich defy them all that dare it say, chame as true as the best,
Wart not-y u take within this hour in dame chats hens nest?
Take there, no master chould not dot for a house ful of gold.
Thou art the devil in thy cote, swarthis I dare be bold.
Hold thy chat whore y u criest so loud, can no man els be hard?
Well knave, & I had the alone, I wold surelie rap thy costard.
Sir answer me to this, is thy head whole or broken?
Yea master Baily, blest be everie good token.
Come nearer here.
Yes that ich dare.
Many a truer hath been hang'd, though you escape the danger
Thou shalt answer by gods pitie for this thy foul slaunder.
Why, what cā ye charge hir withal? to say so, ye do not wel,
Mary a vengeance to hir hart, the whore has stoln my néele.
Your taske is such, I can scarse learn who shuld be most in fault
Yet shall ye find no other wight, save she, by bred & salt
To name you sir the partie; chould not be verie glad
Yea but we must needs hear it, and therefore saie it boldlie.
No mery sir that chil not,
Will you confesse hir neele?
Will I? no sir will I not.
Then there lieth all the matter.
What other thing beside this dame Chat?
If Doctor Rat [...]e not deceived, it was o' another sort.
Yes by the masse, & if he came, bad me not sticke to speet hym.
Sir knave make hast diccō were here, fetch him where ever he be,
Fie on the villian, fie, fie, that makes us thus agree.
Fie on him knave, with all my hart, now fie, and fie again,
Now fie on him may I best saie, whom he hath almost slain
God blesss you, and you maie be blest so manie all at once,
The greatest thing master rat, ye se how he is drest,
What devil need he be groping so deep, in goodwife Chat hēs nest
Yea but it was thy drift to bring him into the briars
What fast at cards or on sleep? it is the thing I did last.
Nay fast in fetter false varlet, according to thy deeds
That were too sore, a spiritual man to be so extream.
Is he worthy any better, sir how do you judge and deam?
I graunt him worthy punishment, but by no wise so great.
Canst y u not say any thing to that diccon, with least or most:
Yea mary sir, thus much I can say well, the néele is lost.
Nay canst not thou tell which way that nedle may be found?
No by my fay sir, though I might have an hundred pound.
Thou lier lickdish, didst not say the néele wold be gitton?
How saiest thou diccon, art content th [...]s shall on me depend?
Go to M. Baily, say on your mind, I know ye are my frend.
Come on fellow Diccon, chalbe even with thee now,
Thou wilt not sticke to do this Diccon I trow,
Gods hart thou false villain dost thou bite me,
What Hodge doth he hurt the or ever he begin?
How now Hodge, how now?
Gods malt Gammer gurtons.
Thou art mad ich trow.
Will you see the devil Gammer?
The devil sonne, god blesse us.
Chould iche were hanged Gammer.
Mary se ye might dresse us.
Chaue it by the masse Gammer
What, not my néele Hodge?
Your neele Gammer, your néele.
No fie, dost but dodge.
Cha found your neele Gammer, here in my hand be it
For all the lobes on earth Hodge, let me see it.
Soft Gammer.
Good Hodge.
Soft ich say, tarie a while.
Nay sweet Hodge say truth, and not me begile.
Cham sure on it, ich warrant you, it goes no more astray
Hodge when I speak so fair: wil still say me nay?
Tis mine own dear néele Hogde, sikerly I wot,
Cham I not a good sonne gammer, cham I not?
Christ blessing light one thee, hast made me for ever,
Ich knew that ich must finde it, els chould a had it never.
I am no whit sorry to see you so rejoyce,