Sir John Oldcastle

by Shakespeare

KING.
Give me the dice, tis I must shred the priest:
At all, sir John.

SIR JOHN. The devil and all is yours. At that! Sdeath, what casting is this?

SUFFOLK.
Well thrown, Harry, yfaith.

KING.
I’ll cast better yet.

SIR JOHN. Then I’ll be hanged. Sirra, hast thou not given thy soul to the devil for casting?

KING.
I pass for all.

SIR JOHN.
Thou passest all that e’er I played withal.
Sirra, dost thou not cog, nor foist, nor slur?

KING.
Set, parson, set; the dice die in my hand:
When parson, when? what, can ye find no more?
Already dry? wast you bragged of your store?

SIR JOHN.
All’s gone but that.

HUNTINGTON.
What? half a broken angel?