FA. Forty pounds to thirty. L. BON. Done, done, Ile take all oddes. TR. My Lord, I hold as much. L. BON. Not so. TR. Forty pounds to twenty. L. BON. Done, done. M. BON. You ha’ lost all, my Lord, and it were a Million. L. BON. In your imagination, who can helpe it? LA. _Venture_ had the start, and keepes it. L. BON. Gentlemen, you have a fine time to triumph, ’Tis not your oddes that makes you win. _Within_--_Venture!_ _Venture!_ [_Exeunt Men._ JULIETTA. Shall we venture nothing o’ th’ horses? What oddes against my Lord? M. CA. Silke stockings. JU. To a paire of perfum’d gloves, I take it. M. CA. Done! M. BON. And I as much. JU. Done with you both! M. CA. Ile have em Spanish sent. JU. The stockings shall be scarlet, if you choose Your sent, Ile choose my sent. M. CA. ’Tis done, if _Venture_ Knew but my lay, it would halfe breake his necke now, And crying _A Jockey!_ _hay!_ [_A shoute within._ JU. Is the wind in that coast, harke the noyse. Is _Jockey_ now? M. CA. ’Tis but a paire of gloves. JU. Still it holds. [_Enter My Lord._ How ha’ you sped, my Lord? L. BON. Won, Won, I knew by instinct The mare would put some tricke upon him. M. BON. Then we ha’ lost; but, good my Lord, the circumstance. L. BON. Great _John_ at all adventure and grave _Jockey_ Mounted their severall Mares, I sha’not tell The story out for laughing, ha, ha, ha, But this in briefe; _Jockey_ was left behind, The pitty and the scorne of all the oddes, Plaid ’bout my eares like Cannon, but lesse dangerous, I looke all still: the acclamations was For _Venture_, whose disdainful Mare threw durt In my old _Jockey’s_ face, all hopes forsaking us, Two hundred peeces desperate, and two thousand Oathes sent after them: upon the suddaine, When we expected no such tricke, we saw My rider, that was domineering ripe, Vault ore his Mare into a tender slough, Where he was much beholding to one shoulder For saving of his necke; his beast recovered, And he, by this time, somewhat mortified, Besides mortified, hath left the triumph To his Olympick Adversary, who shall Ride hither in full pompe on his _Bucephalus_, With his victorious bagpipe.