BOYET.
An I cannot, cannot, cannot,
An I cannot, another can.
[Exeunt Rosaline.]
COSTARD.
By my troth, most pleasant. How both did fit it!
MARIA.
A mark marvellous well shot, for they both did hit it.
BOYET.
A mark! O, mark but that mark! A mark, says my lady!
Let the mark have a prick in’t, to mete at, if it may be.
MARIA.
Wide o’ the bow hand! I’ faith, your hand is out.
COSTARD.
Indeed, a’ must shoot nearer, or he’ll ne’er hit the clout.
BOYET.
An if my hand be out, then belike your hand is in.
COSTARD.
Then will she get the upshoot by cleaving the pin.
MARIA.
Come, come, you talk greasily, your lips grow foul.