Gold, quoth a? ye pass not for that.
SUFFOLK. Harry, ye are out; now, parson, shake the dice.
SIR JOHN. Set, set; I'll cover ye at all. A plague on't, I am out: the devil, and dice, and a wench, who will trust them?
SUFFOLK. Sayest thou so, priest? Set fair; at all for once.
KING. Out, sir; pay all.
SIR JOHN. Sblood, pay me angel gold. I'll none of your cracked French crowns nor pistolets. Pay me fair angel gold, as I pay you.
KING. No cracked French crowns? I hope to see more cracked French crowns ere long.
SIR JOHN. Thou meanest of French men's crowns, when the King is in France.
HUNTINGTON. Set round, at all.
SIR JOHN. Pay all: this is some luck.
KING. Give me the dice, tis I must shred the priest: At all, sir John.
SIR JOHN. The devil and all is yours. At that! Sdeath, what casting is this?
SUFFOLK. Well thrown, Harry, yfaith.
KING. I'll cast better yet.
SIR JOHN. Then I'll be hanged. Sirra, hast thou not given thy soul to the devil for casting?
KING. I pass for all.
SIR JOHN. Thou passest all that e'er I played withal. Sirra, dost thou not cog, nor foist, nor slur?
KING. Set, parson, set; the dice die in my hand: When parson, when? what, can ye find no more? Already dry? wast you bragged of your store?
SIR JOHN. All's gone but that.
HUNTINGTON. What? half a broken angel?
SIR JOHN. Why sir, tis gold.
KING. Yea, and I'll cover it.
SIR JOHN. The devil do ye good on't, I am blind, ye have blown me up.
KING. Nay, tarry, priest; ye shall not leave us yet. Do not these pieces fit each other well?
SIR JOHN. What if they do?
KING. Thereby begins a tale: There was a thief, in face much like Sir John-- But twas not he, that thief was all in green-- Met me last day at Black Heath, near the park, With him a woman. I was all alone And weaponless, my boy had all my tools, And was before providing me a boat. Short tale to make, sir John--the thief, I mean-- Took a just hundreth pound in gold from me. I stormed at it, and swore to be revenged If e'er we met. He, like a lusty thief, Brake with his teeth this Angel just in two To be a token at our meeting next, Provided I should charge no Officer To apprehend him, but at weapon's point Recover that and what he had beside. Well met, sir John; betake ye to your tools By torch light, for, master parson, you are he That had my gold.
SIR JOHN. Zounds, I won 't in play, in fair square play, of the keeper of Eltham park; and that I will maintain with this poor whinyard, be you two honest men to stand and look upon's, and let's alone, and take neither part.
KING. Agreed! I charge ye do not budget a foot. Sir John, have at ye.
SIR JOHN. Soldier, ware your sconce.
[Here, as they are ready to strike, enter Butler and draws his weapon and steps betwixt them.]
BUTLER. Hold, villains, hold! my Lords, what do you mean, To see a traitor draw against the King?
SIR JOHN. The King! God's will, I am in a proper pickle.
KING. Butler, what news? why dost thou trouble us?
BUTLER. Please it your Highness, it is break of day, And as I scouted near to Islington, The gray eyed morning gave me glimmering Of armed men coming down Highgate hill, Who by their course are coasting hitherward.
KING. Let us withdraw, my Lords. Prepare our troops To charge the rebels, if there be such cause.
For this lewd priest, this devilish hypocrite, That is a thief, a gamester, and what not, Let him be hanged up for example sake.
SIR JOHN. Not so my gracious sovereign. I confess that I am a frail man, flesh and blood as other are: but, set my imperfections aside, by this light, ye have not a taller man, nor a truer subject to the Crown and State, than Sir John of Wrotham.
KING. Will a true subject rob his King?
SIR JOHN. Alas, twas ignorance and want, my gracious liege.
KING. Twas want of grace. Why, you should be as salt To season others with good document, Your lives as lamps to give the people light, As shepherds, not as wolves to spoil the flock. Go hang him, Butler.