Hugh. Come, let's give o'er.
Steph. I thank you, sir, and so much a loser? there's but the waistband of my suit left:[70] now, sweet bones!
Hugh. Twelve at all. [Throws.
Steph. Soft, this die is false.
Hugh. False? you do him wrong, sir; he's true to his master.
Steph. Fullam!
Dick. I'll be hanged, then! where's Putney, then, I pray you?[71]
Steph. 'Tis false, and I'll have my money again.
Hugh. You shall have cold iron with your silver, then.
Steph. Ay, have at you, sir!