Chat. I trow, drab, I shall dresse thee.
Tary, thou knave, I hold the a grote I shall make these hands blesse thee!
Take thou this, old hore, for amends, and lerne thy tonge well to tame,
And say thou met at this bickering, not thy fellow but thy dame!
Hodge. Where is the strong stued hore? chil geare a hores marke! 35
Stand out ones way, that ich kyll none in the darke!
Up, Gammer, and ye be alyve! chil feygh[t] now for us bothe.
Come no nere me, thou scalde callet! to kyll the ich wer loth.
Chat. Art here agayne, thou hoddy peke? what, Doll! bryng me out my spitte.
Hodge. Chill broche thee wyth this, bim father soule, chyll conjure that foule sprete! 40