M. Merry. Nay, the stomach of an horse or a dog, I ween.
R. Roister. Nay, a man's stomach with a weapon, mean I.
M. Merry. Ten men can scarce match you with a spoon in a pie.
R. Roister. Nay, the stomach of a man to try in strife.
M. Merry. I never saw your stomach cloyed yet in my life.
R. Roister. Tush, I mean in strife or fighting to try.
M. Merry. We shall see how ye will strike now, being angry.
R. Roister. Have at thy pate then, and save thy head, if thou may.
M. Merry. Nay, then, have at your pate again, by this day.