Cost. Then will she get the upshoot by cleaving the pin. 140
Mar. Come, come, you talk greasily; your lips grow foul.
Cost. 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.]
Cost. By my soul, a swain! a most simple clown! 144
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. 148
To see him walk before a lady, and to bear her fan!
To see him kiss his hand! and how most sweetly a' 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 running.]
Scene Two
[The Same]
Enter Dull, Holofernes the Pedant, and Nathaniel.
Nath. Very reverend sport, truly: and done
in the testimony of a good conscience.
Hol. The deer was, as you know, sanguis, in
blood; ripe as the pomewater, who now hangeth 4
like a jewel in the ear of cælo, the sky, the welkin,
140 upshoot: upshot, leading shot in a competition
pin: wooden pin holding up the clout
141 greasily: grossly
142 bowl: bowling
152 pathetical nit: pleasing little fellow
4 pomewater: a kind of apple
