R. Roister. Trowest thou so?
M. Merry. Yea, plain.
R. Roister. How may I revive, being now so far past?
M. Merry. I will rub your temples, and fet you again at last.
R. Roister. It will not be possible.
M. Merry. Yes, for twenty pound.
R. Roister. Arms! what dost thou?
M. Merry. Fet you again out of your sound.[115]
By this cross, ye were nigh gone indeed; I might feel