_Baily._ But knowest thou not his name?

_Chat._ I know it, but what than?

It was that crafty cullion Hodge, my Gammer Gurton's man.

_Baily._ Call me the knave hither, he shall sure kiss the stocks.

I shall teach him a lesson for filching hens or c.o.c.ks!

_Doctor Rat._ I marvel, Master Baily, so bleared be your eyes; An egg is not so full of meat, as she is full of lies: When she hath played this prank, to excuse all this gear, She layeth the fault in such a one as I know was not there.

_Chat._ Was he not there? look on his pate, that shall be his witness!

_Doctor Rat._ I would my head were half so whole; I would seek no redress!

_Baily._ G.o.d bless you, Gammer Gurton!

_Gammer._ G.o.d 'eild ye, master mine!

_Baily._ Thou hast a knave within thy house--Hodge, a servant of thine; They tell me that busy knave is such a filching one, That hen, pig, goose or capon, thy neighbour can have none.

_Gammer._ By G.o.d, cham much a-meved to hear any such report!

Hodge was not wont, ich trow, to have him in that sort.

_Chat._ A thievisher knave is not on-live, more filching, nor more false; Many a truer man than he has hanged up by the halse; And thou, his dame--of all his theft thou art the sole receiver; For Hodge to catch, and thou to keep, I never knew none better!

_Gammer._ Sir reverence of your masterdom, and you were out a-door, Chould be so bold, for all her brags, to call her arrant wh.o.r.e; And ich knew Hodge as bad as t'ou, ich wish me endless sorrow And chould not take the pains to hang him up before to-morrow!

_Chat._ What have I stolen from thee or thine, thou ill-favor'd old trot?

_Gammer._ A great deal more, by G.o.d's blest, than chever by thee got!

That thou knowest well, I need not say it.

_Baily._ Stop there, I say, And tell me here, I pray you, this matter by the way, How chance Hodge is not here? him would I fain have had.

_Gammer._ Alas, sir, he'll be here anon; a' be handled too bad.

_Chat._ Master Baily, sir, ye be not such a fool, well I know.

But ye perceive by this lingering there is a pad in the straw.

[_Thinking that Hodge his head was broke,_ _and that Gammer would not let him come before them._

_Gammer._ Chill show you his face, ich warrant thee; lo, now where he is!

_Baily._ Come on, fellow, it is told me thou art a shrew, i-wis: Thy neighbour's hens thou takest, and plays the two-legged fox; Their chickens and their capons too, and now and then their c.o.c.ks.

_Hodge._ Ich defy them all that dare it say, cham as true as the best!

_Baily._ Wert not thou take within this hour in dame Chat's hens'-nest?

_Hodge._ Take there? no, master; chould not do't for a house full of gold!

_Chat._ Thou, or the devil in thy coat--swear this I dare be bold.

_Doctor Rat._ Swear me no swearing, quean, the devil he give thee sorrow!

All is not worth a gnat, thou canst swear till to-morrow!

Where is the harm he hath? show it, by G.o.d's bread!

Ye beat him with a witness, but the stripes light on my head!

_Hodge._ Beat me! Gog's blessed body, chould first, ich trow, have burst thee!

Ich think, and chad my hands loose, callet, chould have crust thee!

_Chat._ Thou s.h.i.tten knave, I trow thou knowest the full weight of my fist; I am foully deceived unless thy head and my door-bar kissed.

_Hodge._ Hold thy chat, wh.o.r.e; thou criest so loud, can no man else be heard?

_Chat._ Well, knave, and I had thee alone, I would surely rap thy costard!

_Baily._ Sir, answer me to this: Is thy head whole or broken?

_Hodge._ Yea, Master Baily, blest be every good token, Is my head whole! Ich warrant you, 'tis neither scurvy nor scald!

What, you foul beast, does think 'tis either pild or bald?

Nay, ich thank G.o.d, chill not for all that thou may'st spend That chad one scab on my na.r.s.e as broad as thy finger's end.

_Baily._ Come nearer here!

_Hodge._ Yes, that ich dare.

_Baily._ By our Lady, here is no harm, Hodge's head is whole enough, for all dame Chat's charm.

_Chat._ By Gog's blest, however the thing he cloaks or smolders, I know the blows he bare away, either with head or shoulders.

Camest thou not, knave, within this hour, creeping into my pens, And there was caught within my house, groping among my hens?

_Hodge._ A plague both on the hens and thee! a cart, wh.o.r.e, a cart!

Chould I were hanged as high as a tree, and chwere as false as thou art!

Give my gammer again her washical thou stole away in thy lap!

_Gammer._ Yea, Master Baily, there is a thing you know not on, mayhap; This drab she keeps away my good, the devil he might her snare.

Ich pray you that ich might have a right action on her [fare].

_Chat._ Have I thy good, old filth, or any such old sow's?

I am as true, I would thou knew, as skin between thy brows.

_Gammer._ Many a truer hath been hanged, though you escape the danger!

_Chat._ Thou shalt answer, by G.o.d's pity, for this thy foul slander!

_Baily._ Why, what can you charge her withal? to say so ye do not well.

_Gammer._ Marry, a vengeance to her heart! the wh.o.r.e has stol'n my nee'le!