Idle. I pray thee show me how it befel.
Evil C. The last day, sir, I wist
The puttock that he ware on his fist
Would have trod my hen,
And up I caught a rottock
And hit him on the buttock
That there lay in a thenne.
Idle. Whereby knowest thou that it was he?
Evil C. For he had a bell about his cue,
And thereby each him knew.
I bid him hold in the wind, C1,v.
Till at the last he had his mind;
God give him an ill pew.
Idle. And what meat did thou give him?
Say on hardely!
Evil C. Sir, a fair piece of bacon,
And a black bowl full of barley.
Idle. By Jesu, this is a gentle meat for a hawk;
To keep birds thou art very conning.
Thy thrift, I trow, is laid a sonninge;
But tell me now where is thy wonning?
Evil C. Sir, at the stews is my most abiding;
Otherwise going and sometime riding;
And if the ground be slipper and sliding,
In faith I fall down mosellinge.
Idle. What, some pleasure then there appears;
Beshrew your head between your ears!
Evil C. Nay, sir, it shall be yours and theirs;
For when a man hath enow
Let him part with his neighbours.