D. Dough. Downe with this litle queane, that hath at me such spite,
Save you from hir maister, it is a very sprite. 25
C. Custance. I my selfe will mounsire graunde[579] captaine undertake, [advances against Roister.]
R. Royster. They win grounde.
M. Mery. Save your selfe sir, for gods sake.
R. Royster [retiring, beaten]. Out, alas, I am slaine, helpe.
M. Mery. Save your selfe.
R. Royster. Alas.
M. Mery. Nay then, have at you mistresse. [pretending to strike Cust., he hits Roist.]
R. Royster. Thou hittest me, alas.