Bayly. Why, what can ye charge hir withal? To say so ye do not well.
Gammer. Mary, a vengeance to hir hart! the whore hase stoln my neele! 125
Chat. Thy nedle, old witch? how so? it were almes thy scul to knock!
So didst thou say the other day that I had stolne thy cock,
And rosted him to my breakfast, which shal not be forgotten;
The devil pul out thy lying tong and teeth that be so rotten!
Gammer. Geve me my neele! As for my cock, chould be very loth 130
That chuld here tel he shuld hang on thy false faith and troth.
Bayly. Your talke is such, I can scarce learne who shuld be most in fault.
Gammer. Yet shall be find no other wight, save she, by bred and salt!