R. Roister. They win ground!
M. Merry. Save yourself, sir, for God's sake!
R. Roister. Out, alas! I am slain; help!
M. Merry. Save yourself!
R. Roister. Alas!
M. Merry. Nay, then, have at you, mistress.
R. Roister. Thou hittest me, alas!
M. Merry. I will strike at Custance here.
R. Roister. Thou hittest me!
M. Merry. (aside.) So I will.