A ryght pithy, pleasaunt and merie comedie: intytuled Gammer gurtons nedle played on stage, not longe a go in Christes Colledge in Cambridge. Made by Mr. S. Mr. of Art.

The ii. Acte.

The ii. Sceane.

Diccon. Chat.

Diccon

FY shytten knaue, and out vpon thee Aboue all other loutes fye on thee, Is not here a clenly prancke? But thy matter was no better Nor thy pres••nce here no sweter, To flye I can the thanke: Here is a matter worthy glosynge Of Gammer Gurtone nedle losynge And a foule peece of warke, A man I thyncke myght make a playe And nede no worde to this they saye Being but halfe a Clarke.

Softe, let me alone, I will take the charge This matter further to en large Within a tyme shorte, If ye will marke my toyes, and note I will geue ye leaue to cut my throte If I make not good sporte, Dame Chat I say, where be ye, within?

Chat.

¶ Who haue we there maketh such a din:

Diccon

¶ Here is a good fellow, maketh no great daunger,

Chat.

¶ What diccon? come nere, ye be no straunger, We be fast set at trumpe man, hard by the fyre, Thou shalt set on the king, if thou come a litle nyer.

Diccon

¶ Nay, nay, there is no tarying: I must be gone againe But first for you in councel I haue a word or twaine.

Chat.

¶Come hether Dol, Dol, sit downe and play this game, And as thou sawest me do, see thou do euen the same There is 5. trumps beside the Queene, y^e hindmost y^u shalt finde her Take hede of Sim glouers wife, she hath an eie behind her, Now Diccon say your will.

Diccon

¶ Nay softe a title yet, I wold not tel it my sister, the matter is so great, There I wil haue you sweare by our dere Lady of Bullaine, S. Dunstone, and S. Donnyke, with the three Kinges of Kul∣laine, That ye shal keepe it secret.

Chat,

¶ Gogs bread that will I doo, As secret as mine owne thought, by god and the deuil two.

Diccon.

¶ Here is gāmer gurton your neighbour, a sad & heuy wight Her goodly faire red Cock, at home. was stole this last night.

Chat.

¶ Gogs foule her Cock with the yelow legs, y^e nightly crowed so iust?

Diccon

¶ That cocke is stollen.

Chat.

¶ What was he fet out of the hens-ruste?

Diccon

¶ I can not tel where y^e deuil he was kept, vnder key or locke. But Tib hath tykled in Gammers eare, that you shoulde steale the cocke

Chat.

¶ Haue I stronge hoore? by bread and salte.

Diccon

¶ What softe, I say be styl. Say not one word for all this geare.

Chat.

¶ By the masse that I wyl, I wil haue the yong hore by the head, & the old trot by y^e throte

Diccon

¶Not one word dame Chat I say, not one word for my cote.

Chat.

¶ Shall such a begars brawle as y^e thinkest y^u make me a theefe The pocks light on her hores sydes, a pestlence & a mischeefe Come out thou hungry nedy bytche, o that my nails be short.

Diccon

¶ Gogs bred womā hold your peace, this gere wil els passe sport I wold not for an hundred pound, this matter shuld be knowen, That I am auctour of this tale, or haue abrode it blowen Did ye not sweare ye wold be ruled, before the tale I tolde I said ye must all secret keepe, and ye said sure ye wolde.

Chat.

¶ Wolde you suffer your selfe diccon, such a sort, to reuile you With slaunderous words to blot your name, & so to defile you?

Diccon

¶ No goodwi••e chat I wold be lot•• such drabs shulde blot my name But yet ye must so order all, y^e Diccon heare no blame.

Chal.

¶Go to then, what is your rede: say on your minde, (ye shall m••e rule herein.

Diccon

¶ God a mercye to dame chat, in faith thou must the gere begin It is twenty pound to a goose turd, my gammer will not tary But hetherward she comes as fast as her legs can her cary, To brawle with you about her cocke, for well & hard Tib say The Cocke was rosted in your house, to breafast yesterday, And when ye had the carcas eaten, the fethers ye out flunge And D••ll your maid the legs she hid a foote depe in the dunge.

Chat.

¶ Do gracyous god my harte is burstes.

Diccon

¶ Well ro••e your selfe a space And gammer gurton when she commeth a••on into thys place Then to the Queane lets see tell her your mynd & spare not So 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Diccon blamelesse bee, and then go to I care not.

Chat,

¶ 〈…〉〈…〉 beware her t••rot••, I can abide no longer In 〈◊〉〈◊〉 old witch it shalbe seene, which of vs two be stronger 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Diccon but at your request, I wold not stay one howre,

Diccon

¶ Well ••eepe it in till she be here and then out let it powre, In the mean•• whi•••• get you in, and make no wordes of this More of this matt•••• w^t in this howre to here you shall not misse Because I know you are my freind, hide it I cold not doubtles Ye know your harm, see ye be wise about your owne busines So fare ye will.

Chat.

▪ 〈…〉〈…〉 Di••con and drynke, what Doll I say Bringe here a cup of the best ale, lets see, come quicly a waye.