Clo. Explain your self, Sir.
Lor. Lookye, ten or twenty Pistoles will do you
No hurt, will it?
Clo. Not any, Sir.
Lor. Why, so, ’tis well any thing will make thee
Apprehend.
Clo. I shall be glad to serve you, Sir, without that fee.
Lor. That’s kindly said—
I see a Man must not be too easy of belief: had I been so,
This Boy would have been at, what d’ye mean, Sir?