M. Merry. What?
R. Roister. Of th' other elephant.
M. Merry. O, him that fled away?
R. Roister. Yea.
M. Merry. Yea, he knew that his match was in place that day.
Tut, he bet the King of Crickets on Christmas-day,
That he crept in a hole, and not a word to say.
M. Mumbl. A sore man, by zembletee.[83]
M. Merry. Why, he wrong a club
Once in a fray out of the hand of Belzebub.