Simon: Head or harp?
Damer: No, I'm in dread I might lose.
Simon: Take your chance or leave it.
Damer: I to lose, you may kill me on the moment! My heart is driven down in the sole of my shoe!
Simon: That is poor courage.
Damer: There is some shiver forewarning me I will lose! I made a strong oath I never would give in again to try any sort of chance.
Simon: You didn't make it but with yourself.
Damer: It was through my luck leaving me I swore against betting and gaming.
Simon: It might turn back fresh and hearty where you gave it so long a rest.
Damer: Well—maybe——