_Chat._ Thou skald, thou bald, thou rotten, thou glutton! I will no longer chide thee; But I will teach thee to keep home. _Gammer._ Wilt thou, drunken beast? [_They fight._ _Hodge._ Stick to her, gammer, take her by the head, chill warrant you this feast! Smite, I say, gammer! Bite, I say, gammer! I trow ye will be keen! Where be your nails? claw her by the jaws, pull me out both her eyen. Gog's bones, gammer, hold up your head! _Chat._ I trow, drab, I shall dress thee. Tarry, thou knave, I hold thee a groat! I shall make these hands bless thee! Take thou this, old whore, for amends, and learn thy tongue well to tame, And say thou met at this bickering, not thy fellow but thy dame! _Hodge._ Where is the strong stewed whore? chill gi'r a whore's mark! Stand out one's way, that ich kill none in the dark! Up, gammer, and ye be alive! chill fight now for us both. Come no near me, thou scald callet! to kill thee ich were loth. _Chat._ Art here again, thou hoddypeke? what, Doll! bring me out my spit. _Hodge._ Chill broach thee with this, by m'father's soul, chill conjure that foul spreet. Let door stand. Cock! why com'st indeed? keep door, thou whoreson boy! _Chat_ [_to Doll_]. Stand to it, thou dastard, for thine ears, ise teach thee, a sluttish toy! _Hodge._ Gog's wounds, whore, chill make thee avaunt! Take heed, Cock, pull in the latch! _Chat._ I'faith, sir Loose-breech, had ye tarried, ye should have found your match! _Gammer._ Now 'ware thy throat, losel, thou'se pay for all! _Hodge._ Well said, gammer, by my soul. Hoise her, souse her, bounce her, trounce her, pull her throat-bole! _Chat._ Com'st behind me, thou withered witch? and I get once on foot! Thou'se pay for all, thou old tar-leather! I'll teach thee what longs to 't! Take thee this to make up thy mouth, till time thou come by more! _Hodge._ Up, gammer, stand on your feet; where is the old whore? Faith, would chad her by the face, chould crack her callet crown! _Gammer._ Ah, Hodge, Hodge, where was thy help, when vixen had me down? _Hodge._ By the mass, gammer, but for my staff Chat had gone nigh to spill you! Ich think the harlot had not cared, and chad not come, to kill you. But shall we lose our nee'le thus? _Gammer._ No, Hodge, chwere loth to do so. Thinkest thou chill take that at her hand? no, Hodge, ich tell thee no. _Hodge._ Chould yet this fray were well take up, and our nee'le at home, 'Twill be my chance else some to kill, wherever it be or whom! _Gammer._ We have a parson, Hodge, thou knows, a man esteemed wise, Mast Doctor Rat; chill for him send, and let me hear his advice. He will her shrive for all this gear, and give her penance straight; Wese have our nee'le, else dame Chat comes ne'er within heaven-gate.