Staines. Nine; 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8: eighteen shillings.
Spend. What's yours, sir?
Scat. Mine's a baker's dozen. Master Bubble, tell your money.
Bub. In good faith, I am but a simple gamester, and do not know what to do.
Scat. Why, you must tell your money, and he'll pay you.
Bub. My money! I do know how much my money is, but he shall not pay me; I have a better conscience than so: what, for throwing the dice twice? i' faith, he should have but a hard bargain of it.
W. Rash. Witty rascal! I must needs away.
Long. Why, what's the matter?
W. Rash. Why, the lovers cannot agree: thou shalt along with me, and know all.