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Full speech
Yes, 'tis he certain, this is a business must not be slackened sir. Master bloodhound as I take it. Six months and four days just. I am the man sir? How fare ye sir? O'th sudden, strange. I have your money ready, And sir, I hope your old love to my Father. How? Pray take it not so hamons, weel go to him. I'll buy it again of him, he wonnot be too cruel. A honest old man, how it moves him, this was my negligence, good Sim convey him into some warmer room, and I pray, how ever Fortune, she that gives ever with the dexterity she takes, shall please to fashion out my sufferings, yet for his sake, my deceased Father, the long friend of your heart, in your health, keep me happy. How does he pray? Mass it's small indeed—yowl pledge me? Pray will you tell me one thing? I in quality. No? Let me try, and I'll tell you. Yes. Oh the Beer, the Beer. Yes, in quantity. A witty maidenhead by this hand. Some Beer. Here Widow. No, it showed scurvy. Whelp of the Devil, thou shalt see thy Sire for't. Would, Bloodhound, good sir let me speak with you. Faith this was but a sudden start begotten from distraction of some Fortune's, I pursue this Widow but for want of wiser work. A , read all's well, or weapons. Adieu sweet widow, for my ordinary— You mean, 'twas worth more then, and that's another handsomely begged. Yes, and men good benefactors, my best wishes wait on so sweet a Mistress—will you walk? Exit. Yes, but those I k not, the e are not they, I'll stay i'th next room till my company come. She's a little shame faced, the deeper the sweeter for ooth. Are you a Captain sir? And you a Lieutenant. I pray where served you last? Under what Colonel. In what Regiment? 'Tis true, true Soldiers do: but you are Tavern-rats. Foul food that lies all day undigested, Upon the queasy stomach of some Tavern, And are pewed out at midnight. In thy face fool. ee are but the worms of worth, The sons of shame and baseness, That in a Tavern dares outsit the Sun, And rather then a Whore shall partly unpledged, You'll pawn your souls for a superfluous cup, Though you cast it into the reckoning, The true soldier, who is all over, a History of man, Noble, and Valiant, Wisdom is the mould, In which he casts his Actions, such a discreet temperance Does daily deck his doings, that by his modesty, He is guest the son of merit, and by his mildness Is believed Valiant, go, and built no more These yrie Castles of hatched fame, which fools Only admire and fear you for, the wiseman Derides and jeers you puffs really of Virtue and Vallor? (These fair twins That are born, breath and die together) then Yowl no more be called butterflies, but men: Think on't, and pay your reckoning. Pox on't, I'll stay no lo her. Foot, shall try that presently. I am indeed sweet Mistress, to a Maid Of excellent parentage, breeding, and beauty. But let it not be any way distaste ull unto you, that thus I tried you, for your brother persuaded me to pre tend love to you, that he might perceive how your mind stood to marriage, in that (as I guess) he has a husband kept in store for you. Alas, we cannot mould men you know. Not, and thou love me. Long time ved me? And lie with thee too by this hand Wench, come let us have fair weather, thou art mine, I am thine, there's and end of the business, this was but a trick, ther's the projector. How all things jump in a just equivalency, to keep thee from the thing of threescore and ten, didst thou not see my Mortgage lately there? Prove thine old Dad a Prophet, bring it with thee Wench. I escaped the Watch at Bishopsgate with ease, there is some body turning down the Church corner towards the Exchange, it may be Mistress Marry. Yes. I passed them easily, the gates are but now shut in. Yes, Sim told me of such a Rat, and where he lodges, I thought I should have met him here. She stays up for us Wench, in the word of a Gen tleman, all shall be fair and civil. Joy I, and a 100 pound a year in a black box to the bargain given away i'th dark last night, to we know not who, and to be herd of we know not when. Sfoot and this be joy, wood we had a handful, some slice of sor row to season it. How he bestirs him. Now it works. I can save Sim that labour Sir, I assure you the wid dow is married to your son Alexander, and as a confirma cion she is come her self to witness I . Discovers. And the very box at's girdle. Sir it's known how you came by that box. And you ought to cry. Hark in your ear, you must deliver that box to me. Let my foe write mine Epitaph, and if I tear not my birthright from thy bosom? You will restore that box? Hang him, he's mad! I thank ye. Why her Husbands dead sir. Which is smaller, this Beer, or your maidenhead?
Plot summary
Plot — A Match at Midnight
Old Bloodhound is training his younger son Tim in the family pawnbroking business, since Alexander, the elder son, is a drunken wastrel. He intends to marry his daughter Mary to the informer Earlack, even though she prefers Ensign Young, while he himself will marry the young widow Wag. The widow has other suitors, including her servant Jarvis, but wants to get rid of them. She arranges a midnight assignation with Old Bloodhound, intending not to turn up. Jarvis arranges a substitute, and tells Bloodhound that his mistress has come incognito and must be addressed as Mistress Coot; in fact it really is a Mistress Coot, an old bawd, whom Bloodhound takes home that night in preparation for a wedding the next morning. Meanwhile, Mary plans to elope with Young that ' night, retrieving his mortgage from her father’s papers. 1622 The widow's Welsh suitor, Randall, hears about Mary and, though he has never met her, decides he prefers her to Wag. The servant Sim fixes Randall up with an assignation that night, but he ends up encountering Wag's maid, who is returning from a late errand and who also happens to be named Mary. Tim visits the tavern to give Alexander some pawn- money, and becomes enamoured of Sue Shortheels, thinking her a lady of noble descent. In fact, she is a prostitute. Alexander gets into the widow’s bedroom and hides under her bed, then forces her to agree to marry him by threatening to undress just as neighbours appear to be arriving. The various wedding plans unravel in the morning. Earlack has sneaked the opportunity to sleep with the widow — who is really Coot the bawd and a somewhat less desirable prospect in bed once seen in daylight. Meanwhile, Tim has married Sue, not knowing her true profession until it is too late, and Mary has married Young, to the dismay of Randall, who finds that he has accidentally married a servant. Only Alexander seems on course for the wedding he wants, until the widow points out that Jarvis has a prior claim: when he tried to seduce her months ago, she demanded that he should prove himself by living in her household as her servant. Now, however, she intends to honour her dead husband by never remarrying. Jarvis reveals his true identity: he is Wag himself, the widow’s husband, still alive, and satisfied that his ruse has proven his wife’s fidelity.