DAME COY. Nay, nay, it is his master's play: He serveth me so almost every third day; But I woll be even with him, as God give me joy, And yet the fault may be in the boy-- As ungracious a graft, so mot I thrive, As any goeth on God's ground alive! CAREAWAY. My wit is breeched in such a brake, That I cannot devise what way is best to take. I was almost as far as my master is; But then I began to remember this, And to cast the worst, as one in fear: If he chance to see me and keep me there, Till he come himself, and speak with my mistress, Then am I like to be in shrewd distress: Yet were I better, thought I, to turn home again. And first speak with her, certain-- Cock's body, yonder she standeth at the door! Now is it worse than it was before. Would Christ I could get again out of her sight: For I see by her look she is disposed to fight. By the Lord, she hath there an angry shrew's look-- DAME COY. Lo, yonder cometh that unhappy hook! CAREAWAY. God save me, mistress, do you know me well? DAME COY. Come near[196] hither unto me, and I shall thee tell Why, thou naughty villain, is that thy guise, To jest with thy mistress in such wise? Take that to begin with, and God before! When thy master cometh home, thou shalt have more: For he told me, when he forth went, That thou shouldest come back again incontinent To bring me to supper where he now is, And thou hast played by the way, and they have done by this. But no force I shall, thou mayest trust me, Teach all naughty knaves to beware by thee. CAREAWAY. Forsooth, mistress, if ye knew as much as I, Ye would not be with me half so angry; For the fault is neither in my master, nor in me, nor you, But in another knave that was here even now, And his name was Jenkin Careaway-- DAME COY. What, I see my man is disposed to play! I ween he be drunken or mad, I make God a vow! CAREAWAY. Nay, I have been made sober and tame, I, now:-- I was never so handled before in all my life: I would every man in England had so beaten[197] his wife! I have forgotten with tousing by the hair, What I devised to say a little ere. DAME COY. Have I lost my supper this night through thy negligence? CAREAWAY. Nay then were I a knave, mistress, saving your reverence. DAME COY. Why, I am sure that by this time it is done-- CAREAWAY. Yea, that it is more than an hour agone-- DAME COY. And was not thou sent to fetch me thither? CAREAWAY. Yea, and had come right quickly hither, But that by the way I had a great fall, And my name, body, shape, legs, and all: And met with one, that from me did it steal; But, by God, he and I some blows did deal! I would he were now before your gate, For you would pummel him jollily about the pate. DAME COY. Truly this wage-pasty[198] is either drunken or mad.