But yet ye must so order all that 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. 60
It is twenty pound to a goose turd, my gammer will not tary,
But hether ward she comes as fast as her legs can her cary,
To brawle with you about her cocke; for wel I hard Tib say
The Cocke was rosted in your house to brea[k]fast yesterday;
And when ye had the carcas eaten, the fethers ye out flunge, 65
And Doll, your maid, the legs she hid a foote depe in the dunge.
Chat. Oh gracyous God! my harte it[685] burstes!