1 The Honest Whore (1 The Converted Courtesan) (The Patient Man and the Honest Whore) · chunk 20 of 48
Dekker, Thomas / Middleton, Thomas · published 1604 · first performed or written 1604 (Annals) comedy · Prince Henry's Men unassigned nearest T49 Wooing a mistress: suitors, go-betweens · 484 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T49: mistress, gentleman, love, lady, woman, pray, gentlewoman, hear, honest, way.
Oh, I pray stay. See Matheo comes not: time hath bar me, Would all the Harlots in the town had heard me. Stay yet a little longer. no: quite gone! Cursed be that minute (for it was no more. So soon a maid is changed into a Whore) Wherein I first fell, be it for ever black; Yet why should sweet Hipolito shun mine eyes; For whose true love I would become pure-honest, Hate the world's mixtures, & the smiles of gold: Am I not fair? Why should he fly me then? Fair creatures are desired, not scorned of men. How many Gallants have drunk healths to me, Out of their daggered arms, & thought them blessed, Enjoying but mine eyes at prodigal feasts! And does Hipolito detest my love? Oh, sure their heedless lusts but flattered me, I am not pleasing, beautiful nor young, Hipolito hath spied some ugly blemish, Eclipsing all my beauties: I am foul: Harlot! ay, that's the spot that taints my soul: What! has he left his weapon here behind him, And gone forgetful? O fit instrument To let forth all the poison of my flesh! Thy M. hates me, cause my blood hath ranged: But when 'tis forth, than he'll believe I'm changed. Mad woman, what art doing? Either love me, Or split my heart upon thy rapier's point: Yet do not neither; for thou then destroy'st That which I love thee for (thy virtues) here, here, thouart crueler, and kill'st me with disdain: To die so, sheds no blood, yet 'tis worse pain. Not speak to me! not bid farewell! a scorn! Hated! this must not be, some means I'll try. Would all Whores were as honest now, as I. See Gentlemen, what you lack? a fine Holland, a fine cambric, see what you buy. Holland for shirts, cambric for bands, what is't you lack? 'sfoot, I lack 'em all, nay more, I lack money to buy 'em: let me see, let me look again: mass this is the shop; What Coz! sweet Coz! how dost i'faith, since last night after candlelight? we had good sport i'faith, had we not? and when shall's laugh again? When you will, Cousin. Spoke like a kind Lacedaemonian: I see yonder's thy husband. there's the sweet youth, God bless him. And how is't Cousin? & how? how is't thou squall? Well, Cousin, how fare you? How fare I? troth, for sixpence a meal, wench, as well as heart can wish, with calves caldrons and chitterlings, beside I have a Punch after supper, as good as a roasted Apple. Are you my wives Cousin? A am, sir, what hast thou to do with that? O, nothing but you're welcome. The devils dung in thy teeth: I'll be welcome whether thou wilt or no, I: What Ring's this Coz? very pretty and fantastical i'faith, let's see it. Puh! nay you wrench my finger.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Oh, I pray stay. See Matheo comes not: time hath bard me, Would all the Harlots in the towne had heard me. Stay yet a little longer. no: quite gone! Curst be that minute (for it was no more. So soone a mayd is chang'd into a Whore) Wherein I first fell, be it for euer blacke; Yet why should sweet Hipolito shun mine eyes; For whose true loue I would becom pure-honest, Hate the worlds mixtures, & the smiles of gold: Am I not fayre? Why should he flye me then? Faire creatures are desir'd, not scornd of men. How many Gallants haue drunk healthes to me, Out of their daggerd armes, & thought thē blest, Enioying but mine eyes at prodigall feasts! And does Hipolito detest my loue? Oh, sure their heedlesse lusts but flattred me, I am not pleasing, beautifull nor young, Hipolito hath spyed some vgly blemish, Eclipsing all my beauties: I am foule: Harlot! I, that's the spot that taynts my soule: What! has he left his weapon heere behind him, And gone forgetfull? O fit instrument To let forth all the poyson of my flesh! Thy M. hates me, cause my bloud hath rang'd: But whē tis forth, then heele beleeue Ime chāg'd. Mad woman, what art doing? Eyther loue me, Or split my heart vpon thy Rapiers poynt: Yet doe not neyther; for thou then destroyst That which I loue thee for (thy vertues) here, here, Th'art crueller, and kilst me with disdayne: To die so, sheds no bloud, yet tis worse payne. Not speake to me! not bid farewell! a scorne! Hated! this must not be, some meanes Ile try. Would all Whores were as honest now, as I. See Gentlemen, what you lack? a fine Holland, a fine Cambrick, see what you buy. Holland for shirts, Cambrick for bands, what ist you lack? Sfoot, I lack em all, nay more, I lack money to buy em: let me see, let me looke agen: masse this is the shop; What Coz! sweet Coz! how dost ifayth, since last night after candlelight? we had good sport ifayth, had we not? and when shals laugh agen? When you will, Cozen. Spoke like a kind Lacedemoniā: I see yonders thy husband. her's the sweet youth, God blesse him. And how ist Cozen? & how? how ist thou squall? Well, Cozen, how fare you? How fare I? troth, for sixpence a meale, wench, as wel as heart can wish, with Calues chaldron and chitterlings, besides I haue a Punch after supper, as good as a roasted Apple. Are you my wiues Cozen? A am, sir, what hast thou to do with that? O, nothing but y'are welcome. The Deuils dung in thy teeth: Ile be welcom whether thou wilt or no, I: What Ring's this Coz? very pretty and fantasticall ifayth, lets see it. Puh! nay you wrench my finger.