Sir Tim. By Fortune, the Rogue’s looking for me; he has a Challenge in his hand too.
Sham. No matter, Sir, huff it out.
Sir Tim. Prithee do thee huff him, thou know’st the way on’t.
Sham. What’s your Bus’ness with Sir Timothy, Sir?
Page. Mine, Sir, I don’t know the Gentleman; pray which is he?
Sir Tim. I, I, ‘tis so—Pox on him.
Sharp. Well, Boy, I am he—What—Your Master.
Page. My Master, Sir—
Sharp. Are not you Bellmour’s Page?
Page. Yes, Sir.