_Jhan_ [_aside_]. Shall he cum hyther? by kokkis soule I was a-curst Whan that I graunted to that worde furst! But syns I have sayd it, I dare not say nay, For than my wyfe and I shulde make a fray; But whan he is come, I swere by goddis mother, 210 I wold gyve the dyvell the tone[259] to cary away the tother. _Tyb._ What sayst? _Johan._ Mary, he is my curate, I say, My confessour and my frende alway, Therfore go thou and seke hym by and by, And tyll thou come agayne, I wyll kepe the pye. 215 _Tyb._ Shall I go for him? nay, I shrewe me than! Go thou, and seke, as fast as thou can, And tell hym it. _Johan._ Shall I do so? In fayth, it is not mete for me to go. _Tyb._ But thou shalte go tell hym, for all that. 220 _Johan._ Than shall I tell hym, wotest [thou] what? That thou desyrest hym to come make some chere. _Tyb._ Nay, that thou desyrest hym to come sup here. _Johan._ Nay, by the rode, wyfe, thou shalt have the worshyp And the thankes of thy gest, that is thy gossyp. 225 _Tyb_ [_aside_]. Full ofte I se my husbande wyll me rate, For this hether commyng of our gentyll curate. _Johan._ What sayst, Tyb? let me here that agayne. _Tyb._ Mary, I perceyve very playne That thou hast Syr Johan somwhat in suspect; 230 But by my soule, as far as I conject, He is vertuouse and full of charyte. _Johan_ [_aside_]. In fayth, all the towne knoweth better, that he Is a hore-monger, a haunter of the stewes, An ypocrite, a knave, that all men refuse; 235 A lyer, a wretche, a maker of stryfe, Better than they knowe that thou art my good wyfe. _Tyb._ What is that, that thou hast sayde? _Johan._ Mary, I wolde have the table set and layde, In this place or that, I care not whether. 240 _Tyb._ Than go to, brynge the trestels[260] hyther. Abyde[261] a whyle, let me put of my gown! But yet I am afrayde to lay it down, For I fere it shal be sone stolen. [_Johan._] And yet it may lye safe ynough unstolen. 245 [_Tyb._] It may lye well here, and I lyst,-- But, by cokkis soule, here hath a dogge pyst; And if I shulde lay it on the harth bare, A iv It myght hap to be burned, or I were ware, Therfore I pray you,[262] take ye the payne 250 To kepe my gowne tyll I come agayne. But yet he shall not have it, by my fay, He is so nere the dore, he myght ron away; But bycause that ye be trusty and sure Ye shall kepe it, and it be your pleasure; 255 And bycause it is arrayde[263] at the skyrt, Whyle ye do nothyng, skrape of the dyrt.