Rose. You, by such luck, might prove your hart a hind.
Ham. Why, Luck had horns, so have I heard some say.
Rose. Now, God, an’t be his will, send Luck into your way.
Enter the Lord Mayor and Servants.
L. Mayor. What, Master Hammon? Welcome to Old Ford!
Sybil. Gods pittikins, hands off, sir! Here’s my lord.
L. Mayor. I hear you had ill luck, and lost your game.
Ham. ’Tis true, my lord.
L. Mayor. I am sorry for the same.
What gentleman is this?