The .ii. Acte. The ii. Sceane. Diccon. Chat. Diccon Fy shytten knaue, and out vpon thee Aboue all other loutes fye on thee, Is not here a clenly prancke? But thy matter was no better Nor thy presence here no sweter, To flye I can the thanke: Here is a matter worthy glosynge Of Gammer Gurtons nedle losynge And a foule peece of warke, A man I thyncke myght make a playe And nede no worde to this they saye Being but halfe a Clarke. Softe let me alone I will take the charge This matter further to enlarge Withm a tyme shorte, If ye will marke my toyes and note I will geue ye leaue to cut my throte If I make not good sporte, Dame Chat I say where be ye within? Chat Who haue we there maketh such a din: Diccon Here is a good fellow maketh no great daunger, Chat What diccon? come nere ye be no straunger, We be fast set at trumpe man hard by the fyre, Thou shalt set on the king if thou come a litle nyer. Diccon Nay, nay, there is no tarying: I must be gone againe But first for you in councel I haue a word or twaine. Chat Come hether Dol, Dol, sit downe and play this game, And as thou sawest me do, see thou do euen the same Thereis 5. trumps beside the Queene, ye hindmost yu shalt finde her Take hede of Sim glouers wife, she hath an eie behind her, Now Diccon say your will. Diccon Nay softe a litle yet, I wold not tel it my sister, the inatter is so great, There I wil haue you sweare by our dere Lady of Bullaine, S Dunstoue, and S. Donnyke, with the three Kinges of Kullaine, That ye shal keepe it secret. Chat Gogs bread that will I doo, As secret as mine owne thought, by god aud the deuil two. Diccon Here is gammer gurton your neighbour, a sad heuy wight Her goodly faire red Cock, at home, was stole this last night. Chat Gogs soule her Cock with the yelow legs, yt nightly crowed so iust? Diccon That cocke is stollen. Chat What was he fet out of the heus ruste? Diccon I cau not tel where ye deuil he was kept, vnder key or locke, But Tib hath tykled in Gaminers eare, that you shoulde steale the cocke Chat Haue I strouge hoore? by bread aud salte. Diccon What softe I say be styl. Say hot one word for all this geare. Chat By the inasse that I wyl, I wil haue the yong hore by the head, & the old trot by ye throte Diccon Not one word dame Chat I say, not one word for my cote. Chat Shall such a begars brawle as yt thinkest yu make me a theefe The pocks light on her hores sydes, a pestlence & a mischeefe Come out thou hungry nedy bytche, o that my nails be short. Diccon Gogs bred woman hold your peace this gere wil els passe sport I wold not for an hundred pound this matter shuld be knowen, That I am auctour of this tale or haue 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. Wolde you suffer your selfe diccon such a sort, to reuile you With slaunderous words to blot your name, & 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, yt 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 It is twenty pound to a goose turd, my gammer will not tary But hetherward she comes as fast as her legs can her cary, To brawle with you about her cocke, for well I hard Tib say The Cocke was rosted in your house, to breafast yesterday, And when ye had the carcas eaten, the fethers ye out flunge And Doll your maid the legs she hid a foote depe in the dunge. Chat 0h gracyous god my harte it 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 inynd & spare not So shall Diccon blamelesse bee, and then go to I care not. Chat Then hoore beware her throte, I can abide no longer In faith old witch it shalbe seene, which of vs two be stronger And Diccon but at your request, I wold not stay one howre. Diccon Well keepe it in till she be here, and then out let it powre, In the meane while get you in, and make no wordes of this More of this matter wtin this howre to here you shall not misse Because I know you are iny freind, hide it I cold not doubtles Ye know your harm, see ye be wise about your owne busines So fare ye well. Chat Nay soft Diccon and drynke, what Doll I say Bringe here a cup of the best ale, lets see, come quicly awaye.