_Diccon._ Even now I saw him last, like a mad man he far'd, And sware by heaven and hell he would a-wreak his sorrow, And leave you never a hen alive by eight of the clock to-morrow; Therefore mark what I say, and my words see that ye trust. Your hens be as good as dead, if ye leave them on the roost. _Chat._ The knave dare as well go hang himself, as go upon my ground. _Diccon._ Well, yet take heed, I say, I must tell you my tale round. Have you not about your house, behind your furnace or lead A hole where a crafty knave may creep in for need? _Chat._ Yes, by the mass, a hole broke down, even within these two days. _Diccon._ Hodge, he intends this same night to slip in thereaways. _Chat._ O Christ! that I were sure of it! in faith, he should have his meed! _Diccon._ Watch well, for the knave will be there as sure as is your creed. I would spend myself a shilling to have him swinged well. _Chat._ I am as glad as a woman can be of this thing to hear tell. By Gog's bones, when he cometh, now that I know the matter, He shall sure at the first skip to leap in scalding water, With a worse turn besides; when he will, let him come. _Diccon._ I tell you as my sister; you know what meaneth "mum"! THE FOURTH ACT. THE FOURTH SCENE. DICCON, DOCTOR RAT. _Diccon._ Now lack I but my doctor to play his part again. And lo, where he cometh towards, peradventure to his pain! _Doctor Rat._ What good news, Diccon, fellow? is mother Chat at home? _Diccon._ She is, sir, and she is not, but it please her to whom; Yet did I take her tardy, as subtle as she was. _Doctor Rat._ The thing that thou went'st for, hast thou brought it to pass? _Diccon._ I have done that I have done, be it worse, be it better, And dame Chat at her wits-end I have almost set her. _Doctor Rat._ Why, hast thou spied the nee'le? quickly, I pray thee, tell! _Diccon._ I have spied it, in faith, sir, I handled myself so well; And yet the crafty quean had almost take my trump. But, ere all came to an end, I set her in a dump. _Doctor Rat._ How so, I pray thee, Diccon? _Diccon._ Marry, sir, will ye hear? She was clapp'd down on the backside, by Cock's mother dear, And there she sat sewing a halter or a band, With no other thing save gammer's needle in her hand. As soon as any knock, if the filth be in doubt, She needs but once puff, and her candle is out: Now I, sir, knowing of every door the pin, Came nicely, and said no word, till time I was within; And there I saw the nee'le, even with these two eyes; Whoever say the contrary, I will swear he lies. _Doctor Rat._ O Diccon, that I was not there then in thy stead!