ROSALINE. If we choose by the horns, yourself come not near. Finely put on indeed! MARIA. You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and she strikes at the brow. BOYET. But she herself is hit lower. Have I hit her now? ROSALINE. Shall I come upon thee with an old saying, that was a man when King Pepin of France was a little boy, as touching the hit it? BOYET. So I may answer thee with one as old, that was a woman when Queen Guinevere of Britain was a little wench, as touching the hit it. ROSALINE. Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it, Thou canst not hit it, my good man. 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. COSTARD. She’s too hard for you at pricks, sir. Challenge her to bowl. BOYET. I fear too much rubbing. Good night, my good owl. [_Exeunt Boyet and Maria._] COSTARD. By my soul, a swain, a most simple clown! Lord, Lord, how the ladies and I have put him down! O’ my troth, most sweet jests, most incony vulgar wit, When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it were, so fit. Armado, o’ the one side, O, a most dainty man! To see him walk before a lady and to bear her fan! To see him kiss his hand and how most sweetly he will swear! And his page o’ t’other side, that handful of wit! Ah, heavens, it is a most pathetical nit. [_Shout within._] Sola, sola! [_Exit._] SCENE II. The same Enter Dull, Holofernes, the Pedant and Nathaniel. NATHANIEL. Very reverend sport, truly, and done in the testimony of a good conscience. HOLOFERNES. The deer was, as you know, _sanguis_, in blood, ripe as the pomewater, who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of _caelo_, the sky, the welkin, the heaven, and anon falleth like a crab on the face of _terra_, the soil, the land, the earth. NATHANIEL. Truly, Master Holofernes, the epithets are sweetly varied, like a scholar at the least. But, sir, I assure ye it was a buck of the first head. HOLOFERNES. Sir Nathaniel, _haud credo_. DULL. ’Twas not a “auld grey doe”, ’twas a pricket. HOLOFERNES. Most barbarous intimation! Yet a kind of insinuation, as it were, _in via_, in way, of explication; _facere_, as it were, replication, or rather, _ostentare_, to show, as it were, his inclination, after his undressed, unpolished, uneducated, unpruned, untrained, or rather, unlettered, or ratherest, unconfirmed fashion, to insert again my _haud credo_ for a deer.