Arden. Come, Master Mosbie, what shall we play for?
Mosbie. Three games for a French crown, sir, and please you. 230
Arden. Content.
[Then they play at the tables. Enter Will and Shakebag.
Will.—Can he not take him yet? what a spite is that?
Alice.—Not yet, Will; take heed he see thee not.
Will.—I fear he will spy me as I am coming.
Michael.—To prevent that, creep betwixt my legs.
Mosbie. One ace, or else I lose the game.
Arden. Marry, sir, there’s two for failing.