R. Roister. What is that? a mote!
M. Merry. No, it was a fowl's feather had light on your coat.
R. Roister. I was nigh no feathers, since I came from my bed.
M. Merry. No, sir, it was a hair that was fall from your head.
R. Roister. My men come, when it please them.
M. Merry. By your leave—
R. Roister. What is that?
M. Merry. Your gown was foul spotted with the foot[84] of a gnat.
R. Roister. Their master to offend they are nothing afeard.