Lit. O, sir, you shall command it; what, will a crown serve you?
Cokes. I think it will; what do we pay for coming in, fellows?
Filch. Two-pence, sir.
Cokes. Two-pence! there’s twelve-pence, friend: nay, I am a gallant, as simple as I look now; if you see me with my man about me, and my artillery again.
Lit. Your man was in the stocks e’en now, sir.
Cokes. Who, Numps?
Lit. Yes, faith.
Cokes. For what, i’faith? I am glad o’ that; remember to tell me on’t anon; I have enough now. What manner of matter is this, master Littlewit? what kind of actors have you? are they good actors?
Lit. Pretty youths, sir, all children both old and young; here’s the master of ’em—
Enter LEATHERHEAD.