MRS GOUR. No, we'll be ill-huswives once;
You have been oft ill husbands: let's alone.
MR BAR. Wife, will you play so much?
MRS BAR. I would be loth to be so frank a gamester
As Mistress Goursey is; and yet for once
I'll play a pound a game as well as she.
MR BAR. Go to, you'll have your will
[Offer to go from them.
MRS BAR. Come, there's my stake.
MRS GOUR. And there's mine.
MRS BAR. Throw for the dice. Ill luck! then they are yours.
MR BAR. Master Goursey, who says that gaming's bad,
When such good angels[218] walk 'twixt every cast?
MR GOUR. This is not noble sport, but royal play.
MR BAR. It must be so, where royals[218] walk so fast.