Plot. He deeply swore it: if he do, the sleight
Upon the cards, the hollow die, Park Corner
And Shooter's Hill, are my revenue.
Tim. Yes: and as for me, my destiny will be
To fight by th' day, carry my kitchen and
Collation at my back, wear orderly
My shirt in course, after't has been the shift
Of a whole regiment in the low countries;
And, after all, return with half a leg,
One arm, perchance my nose shot off, to move
Compassion in my father who, in pity
To so much ruin, may be brought to buy
Some place for me in an hospital, to keep me
From bridges, hill-tops, and from selling switches.
Enter Roseclap.
Rose. Yonder's your uncle at the field-door, talking
With Bannswright, as hot and earnest for a wench
As a recover'd Monsieur.
Quart. What is this Bannswright?
Sale. A fellow much employed about the town,
That contrives matches: one that brings together
Parties that never saw or never met,
Till't be for good and all; knows to a penny
Estates and jointures: I'll undertake he has
Now lying by him (unprovided) some twenty
Widows of all fortunes that want husbands,
And men that want wives; and, at an hour's warning,
Can make things ready for the priest.
Quart. Let us
Devise to get him hither, and cross the match.
Plot. I have great interest in him; the fellow loves me.
Could I speak with him, and draw him to be
An actor in't, I have a stratagem
That can redeem all, and turn the plot
Upon these sage heads.
Enter Bannswright.