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.