_Chat._ Nay, how provest thou that I did the deade? _D. Rat._ To plainly, by S. Mary, This profe I trow may serve, though I no word spoke! (_Showing his broken head._) DIV _Chat._ Bicause thy head is broken, was it I that it broke? 25 I saw thee, Rat, I tel thee, not once within this fortnight. _D. Rat._ No mary, thou sawest me not, for why thou hadst no light; But I felt thee for al the darke, beshrew thy smothe cheekes! And thou groped me, this wil declare any day this six weekes. (_Showing his heade._) _Bayly._ Answere me to this, M[ast] Rat: when caught you this harme of yours? 30 _D. Rat._ A while ago, sir, God he knoweth, within les then these two houres. _Bayly._ Dame Chat, was there none with you (confesse, i-faith) about that season? What, woman? let it be what it wil, tis neither felony nor treason. _Chat._ Yea, by my faith, master Bayly, there was a knave not farre Who caught one good philup on the brow with a dore barre, 35 And well was he worthy, as it semed to mee; But what is that to this man, since this was not hee? _Bayly._ Who was it then? Lets here! _D. Rat._ Alas sir, aske you that? Is it not made plain inough by the owne mouth of Dame Chat? The time agreeth, my head is broken, her tong can not lye, 40 Onely upon a bare nay she saith it was not I. _Chat._ No, mary, was it not indeede! ye shal here by this one thing: This after noone a frend of mine for good wil gave me warning, And bade me wel loke to my ruste,[730] and al my capons pennes, For if I toke not better heede, a knave wold have my hennes. 45 Then I, to save my goods, toke so much pains as him to watch; And as good fortune served me, it was my chaunce hym for to catch. What strokes he bare away, or other what was his gaines, I wot not, but sure I am he had something for his paines! _Bayly._ Yet telles thou not who it was. _Chat._ Who it was? a false theefe, 50 That came like a false foxe my pullaine[731] to kil and mischeefe! _Bayly._ But knowest thou not his name? _Chat._ I know it; but what than? It was that crafty cullyon Hodge, my Gammer Gurtons man. _Bayly._ Cal me the knave hether, he shal sure kysse the stockes. I shall teach him a lesson for filching hens or cocks! 55 _D. Rat._ I marvaile, Master Bayly, so bleared be your eyes; An egge is not so ful of meate, as she is ful of lyes: When she hath playd this pranke, to excuse al this geare, She layeth the fault in such a one, as I know was not there. _Chat._ Was he not thear? loke on his pate, that shal be his witnes! 60