Hodge. A plage both on the hens & the! A carte, whore, a carte!
Chould I were hanged as hie as a tree and chware as false as thou art! 115
Geve my gammer again her washical[742] thou stole away in thy lap!
Gammer. Yea Maister Baily, there is a thing you know not on, mayhap;
This drab she kepes away my good, the devil he might her snare!
Ich pray you that ich might have a right action on her [fare].
Chat. Have I thy good, old filth, or any such old sowes? 120
I am as true, I wold thou knew, as skin betwene thy browes!
Gammer. Many a truer hath ben hanged, though you escape the daunger!
Chat. Thou shalt answer, by Gods pity, for this thy foule slaunder!