M. Mery. Saue your selfe sir, for gods sake.
R. Royster. Out, alas, I am slaine, helpe.
M. Mery. Saue your self.
R. Royster. Alas.
M. Mery. Nay then, haue at you mistresse.
R. Royster. Thou hittest me, alas.
M. Mery. I wil strike at Custance here.
R. Royster. Thou hittest me.
M. Mery. So I wil.
Nay mistresse Custance.