Ware. Yes, yes; yes, yes!
You shall be comforted: I will maintain
A stallion for you.
Dor. I will have friends come to me.
So you'll conceal——
Ware. Alas! I'll be your pander;
Deliver letters for you, and keep the door.
Dor. I'll have a woman shall do that.
Ware. O impudence!
Unheard-of impudence!
Dor. Then, sir, I'll look
Your coffers shall maintain me at my rate.
Ware. How's that?
Dor. Why, like a lady; for I do mean
To have you knighted.
Ware. I shall rise to honour.
Dor. D'you think I'll have your factor move before me,
Like a device stirr'd by a wire, or like
Some grave clock wound up to a regular pace?