_Diccon._ Yea, mary, sir, if ye will do by mine advise and counsaile. If Mother Chat se al us here, she knoweth how the matter goes; Therfore I red you three go hence, and within keepe close, And I will into Dame Chats house, and so the matter use, That or[721] you cold go twise to church I warant you here news. 55 She shall look wel about hir, but, I durst lay a pledge, Ye shal of Gammers neele have shortly better knowledge. _Gammer._ Now, gentle Diccon, do so, and, good sir, let us trudge. _D. Rat._ By the masse, I may not tarry so long to be your judge. _Diccon._ Tys but a little while, man; what! take so much paine! 60 If I here no newes of it, I wil come sooner againe. _Hodge._ Tary so much, good Master Doctor, of your gentlenes! _D. Rat._ Then let us hie us inward, and, Diccon, speede thy busines. _Diccon._[722] Now, sirs, do you no more, but kepe my counsaile juste, And Doctor Rat shall thus catch some good, I trust. 65 But Mother Chat, my gossop, talke first with-all I must: For she must be chiefe captaine to lay the Rat in the dust. God deven, dame Chat, in faith, and wel met in this place! _Chat._ God deven, my friend Diccon; whether walke ye this pace? _Diccon._ By my truth, even to you, to learne how the world goeth. 70 Hard ye no more of the other matter? say me, now, by your troth! _Chat._ O yes, Diccon, here the old hoore, and Hodge, that great knave-- But, in faith, I would thou hadst sene,--O Lord, I drest them brave! She bare me two or three souses behind in the nape of the necke, Till I made hir olde wesen to answere againe, "kecke!" 75 And Hodge, that dirty dastard, that at hir elbow standes,-- If one pair of legs had not bene worth two paire of hands, He had had his bearde shaven if my nayles wold have served, Dij And not without a cause, for the knave it well deserved. _Diccon._ By the masse, I can the thank, wench, thou didst so wel acquite the! 80 _Chat._ And thadst scene him, Diccon, it wold have made the beshite the For laughter. The horsen dolt at last caught up a club, As though he would have slaine the master devil Belsabub. But I set him soone inwarde. _Diccon._ O Lorde, there is the thing That Hodge is so offended! that makes him start and flyng! 85 _Chat._ Why? makes the knave any moyling, as ye have seen or hard? _Diccon._ Even now I sawe him last, like a mad man he farde, And sware by heven and hell he would awreake his sorowe, And leve you never a hen on live, by eight of the clock to morow; Therfore marke what I say, and my wordes see that ye trust. 90 Your hens be as good as dead, if ye leave them on the ruste.