Bub. One and five that.
Spend. Hum! and can a suit of satin cheat so grossly? By this light, there's nought on one die but fives and sixes. I must not be thus gulled.
[Aside.
Bub. Come, Master Spendall, set.
Spend. No, sir, I have done.
Scat. Why, then let us all leave, for I think dinner's near ready.
Drawer. Your meat's upon the table.
Scat. On the table! come, gentlemen, we do our stomachs wrong. Master Bubble, what have you lost.
Bub. That's no matter: what I have lost, I have lost; nor can I choose but smile at the foolishness of the dice.
Staines. I am but your steward, gentlemen; for after dinner I may restore it again.