Coo. Because they throw away their soules at every marke.
Fra. Their soules! how meane ye?
Phi. Sirra, he meanes the soule[1650] of our bowle.
Fra. Lord, how his wit holdes bias like a bowle!
Coo. Well, which is the bias? 110
Fra. This next to you.[1651]
Coo. Nay, turne it this way, then the bowle goes true.
Boy. Rub, rub!
Coo. Why rub?
Boy. Why, you overcast the marke, and misse the way. 115