R. Roister. To come behind, and make curts'y,[119] thou must some pains take.
M. Merry. Else were I much to blame. I thank your mastership;
The Lord one day all to begrime you with worship.
Back, Sir Sauce! let gentlefolks have elbow-room.
'Void, sirs, see ye not Master Roister Doister come?
Make place, my masters—
R. Roister. Thou jostlest now too nigh.
M. Merry. Back, all rude louts.
R. Roister. Tush.
M. Merry. I cry your maship mercy.