Dick. Down with them.
Hugh. Now the dice are mine; set me now a fair board; a fair passage, sweet bones! Boreas![65]
[A noise below in the bowling-alley of betting and wrangling.
Host. How now, my fine trundletails;[66] my wooden cosmographers; my bowling-alley in an uproar? Is Orlando up in arms? I must be stickler; I am constable, justice, and beadle in mine own house; I accuse, sentence, and punish: have amongst you! look to my box, boys![67] He that breaks the peace, I brake his pate for recompense: look to my box, I say! [Exit.
Steph. A pox o' your box! I shall ne'er be so happy to reward it better; set me fair; aloft now. [The dice are thrown.
Jack. Out.
Steph. What was't?
Dick. Two treys and an ace.
Steph. Seven still, pox on't! that number of the deadly sins haunts me damnably. Come, sir, throw.
Jack. Prythee, invoke not so: all sinks too fast already.