Summary

A Select Collection of Old English Plays…

Gog's wounds, let Treasure remain still with me.
Treas. Yea, let me continue still in my dignity.
Time. Nay, I must carry you into Vulcan's fire,
Where you shall be tried unto the uttermost.
Seeing Lust against Trust did daily conspire,
To dust he shall turn for all his great boast!
Both of you shall have one rigorous host;
Come therefore with speed, Time cannot tarry:
To the end of your felicity I will you carry.
Treas. If there be no remedy, then there is no shift.
Lust. He must needs go, that is driven by the devil's drift;
Ah! Cock's precious sides, what fortune is this!
Source: Gutenberg

A Select Collection of Old English Plays…

Good hostess, now let it be so, I brink them all carouse-a.
Philip. Marry, here is a pot of noppy good ale.
As clear as crystal pure and stale. [331]
Now a crab in the fire were worth a good groat,
That I might quass with my captain Tom Tosspot.
What? I can no sooner wish, but by and by I have!
God save mine eyesight, methink I see a knave.
What, captain! how goeth the world with you?
Why, now I see the old proverb to be true;
Like will to like, both with Christian, Turk, and Jew.
Marry, Philip, even as I was wont to do:
Philip.
Source: Gutenberg

A Select Collection of Old English Plays…

Hodge. Tush, tush, her nee'le, her nee'le, her nee'le, man: 'tis neither flesh nor fish,
A little thing with an hole in the end, as bright as any sil'er,
Small, long, sharp at the point, and straight as any pillar.
Diccon. I know not what a devil thou meanest, thou bring'st me more in doubt.
Hodge. Knowest not with what Tom-tailor's man sits broaching through a clout?
A nee'le, a nee'le, a nee'le, my Gammer's nee'le is gone.
Diccon. Her nee'le! Hodge, now I smell thee; that was a chance alone:
By the mass, thou hast a shameful loss, and it were but for thy breeches.
Source: Gutenberg

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