Nay, ich thanke God, chil not for al that thou maist spend
That chad one scab on my narse as brode as thy fingers end.
Bayly. Come nearer heare!
Hodge. Yes, that I dare.
Bayly. By our Lady, here is no harme,
Hodges head is whole ynough, for al Dame Chats charme.
Chat. By Gogs blest, hou ever the thing he clockes or smolders,[741] 110
I know the blowes he bare away, either with head or shoulders.
Camest thou not, knave, within this houre, creping into my pens,
And there was caught within my hous groping among my hens?