Confess the truth as I shall ask, and cease a while to fable,
And for thy fault, I promise thee, thy handling shall be reasonable.
Hast thou not made a lie or two, to set these two by the ears?
Diccon. What, if I have? five hundred such have I seen within these seven years:
I am sorry for nothing else, but that I see not the sport,
Which was between them when they met, as they themselves report.
Baily. The greatest thing, Master Rat, ye see how he is dress'd.
Diccon. What devil, need he be groping so deep in goodwife Chat's hens' nest?
Baily. Yea, but it was thy drift to bring him into the briars.
Diccon. God's bread! hath not such an old fool wit to save his ears?