_Diccon._ Gogs bred, woman, hold your peace! this gere wil els passe sport! 50 I wold not for an hundred pound this mater shuld be knowen, That I am auctour of this tale, or have abrode it blowen! Did ye not sweare ye wold be ruled, before the tale I tolde? I said ye must all secret keepe, and ye said sure ye wolde. _Chat._ Wolde you suffer, your selfe, Diccon, such a sort to revile you, 55 With slaunderous words to blot your name, and so to defile you? _Diccon._ No, Goodwife Chat, I wold be loth such drabs shulde blot my name; But yet ye must so order all that Diccon beare no blame. _Chat._ Go to, then, what is your rede? say on your minde, ye shall mee rule herein. _Diccon._ Godamercye to Dame Chat! In faith thou must the gere begin. 60 It is twenty pound to a goose turd, my gammer will not tary, But hether ward she comes as fast as her legs can her cary, To brawle with you about her cocke; for wel I hard Tib say The Cocke was rosted in your house to brea[k]fast yesterday; And when ye had the carcas eaten, the fethers ye out flunge, 65 And Doll, your maid, the legs she hid a foote depe in the dunge. _Chat._ Oh gracyous God! my harte it[685] burstes! _Diccon._ Well, rule your selfe a space; And Gammer Gurton when she commeth anon into thys place, Then to the queane, lets see, tell her your mynd and spare not. So shall Diccon blamelesse bee; and then, go to, I care not! 70 _Chat._ Then, hoore, beware her throte! I can abide no longer. In faith, old witch, it shalbe seene which of us two be stronger! And, Diccon, but at your request, I wold not stay one howre. _Diccon._ Well, keepe it till she be here, and then out let it powre! In the meane while get you in, and make no wordes of this. 75 More of this matter within this howre to here you shall not misse, Because I knew you are my friend, hide it I cold not, doubtles. Ye know your harm, see ye be wise about your owne busines! So fare ye well.[686] _Chat._ Nay, soft, Diccon, and drynke! What, Doll, I say! Bringe here a cup of the best ale; lets see, come quicly a waye! 80 The ii Acte. The iii Sceane. C HODGE. DICCON. _Diccon._ Ye see, masters, that one end tapt of this my short devise! Now must we broche thot[h]er to, before the smoke arise; And by the time they have a while run, I trust ye need not crave it. But loke, what lieth in both their harts, ye ar like, sure, to have it.