COOMES. 'Sbloud, I do not like the humour of these springals; they'll spend all their fathers' good at gaming. But let them trowl the bowls upon the green. I'll trowl the bowls in the buttery by the leave of God and Master Barnes: and his men be good fellows, so it is; if they be not, let them go snick up[216]. [_Exit.
Enter_ NICHOLAS with the tables.
MR BAR. So, set them down.
Mistress Goursey, how do you like this game?
MRS GOUR. Well, sir.
MR BAR. Can ye play at it?
MRS GOUR. A little, sir.
MR BAR. Faith, so can my wife.
MR GOUR. Why, then, Master Barnes, and if you please,
Our wives shall try the quarrel 'twixt us two,
And we'll look on.
MR BAR. I am content. What, women[217], will you play?
MRS GOUR. I care not greatly.