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