Enter Ancient Young.
Alex. And hark.
Drawer. Are these the company, sir?
Anc. Yes, but those I like not; these are not they: I'll stay i' th' next room till my company come.
Drawer. Where you please, sir; pray follow me. [Exeunt.
Capt. I hear him coming up gingerly.
Alex. O, he tramples upon the bosom of a tavern with that dexterity, as your lawyers' clerks do to Westminster Hall upon a dirty day with a pair of white silk stockings.
Enter Tim.
Brother Tim, why, now you're a man of your word, I see.
Tim. Nay, I love to be as good as my say. See, brother, look, there's the rest of your money upon the ring. I cannot spend a penny, for I have ne'er a penny left. What are these? what are these?