1 The Honest Whore (1 The Converted Courtesan) (The Patient Man and the Honest Whore) · chunk 27 of 48
Dekker, Thomas / Middleton, Thomas · published 1604 · first performed or written 1604 (Annals) comedy · Prince Henry's Men unassigned nearest T47 Knaves, thieves and bawds · 513 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T47: knave, rogue, money, knaves, thief, rogues, pray, whore, nichol, book.
O, I pray do, if you be Gentlemen: I pray depart the house; beshrew the door For being so easily entreated: faith, I lent but little ear unto your talk, My mind was busied otherwise in troth, And so your words did unregarded pass: Let this suffice, I am not as I was. I am not what I was! no I'll be sworn thou art not: for thou wert honest at five, & now thouart a Punk at fifteen: thou wert yesterday a simple whore, and now thouart a cunning coney-catching Baggage today. I'll say I me worse, I pray forsake me then, I do desire you leave me, Gentlemen, And leave yourselves: O be not what you are, (Spendthrifts of soul and body) Let me persuade you to forsake all Harlots, Worse then the deadliest poisons, they are worse: For o'er their souls hangs an eternal curse, In being slaves to slaves, their labours perish, theyare seldom blessed with fruit; for ere it blossoms, Many a worm confounds it. They have no issue but foul ugly ones, That run along with them, e'en to their graves: For stead of children, they breed rank diseases, And all, you Gallants, can bestow on them, Is that French Infant, which ne'er acts but speaks: What shallow son & heir then, foolish gallant, Would waste all his inheritance, to purchase A filthy loathed disease? and pawn his body To a dry evil: that usury's worst of all, When th'interest will eat out the principal. 'sfoot, she gulls 'em the best: this is always her fashion, when she would be rid of any company that she cares not for, to enjoy mine alone. What's here? instructions, Admonitions, and Caveats? come out, you scabbard of vengeance. Fluello, spurn your hounds when they fist, you shall not spurn my Punk, I can tell you my blood is vexed. Pox a your blood: make it a quarrel. You're a Slave, will that serve turn? 'sblood, hold, hold. Matheo, Fluello, for shame put up. Spurn my sweet Varlet! O how many thus Moved with a little folly, have let out Their souls in Brothel houses, fell down and died Just at their harlot's foot, as 'twere in pride. Matheo, we shall meet. ay, ay, anywhere, saving at Church: pray take heed we meet not there. adieu, Damnation. Cockatrice, farewell. There's more deceit in women, then in hell. Ha, ha, thou dost gull 'em so rarely, so naturally: if I did not think thou hadst been in earnest: thou art a sweet Rogue for't i'faith. Why are not you gone to, signor Matheo? I pray depart my house: you may believe me, In troth I have no part of Harlot in me. How's this? Indeed I love you not: but hate you worse Than any man, because you were the first Gave money for my soul; you broke the Ice, Which after turned a puddle: I was led By your temptation to be miserable: I pray seek out some other that will fall, Or rather (I pray) seek out none at all.
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)
O, I pray doe, if you be Gentlemen: I pray depart the house; beshrew the dore For being so easily entreated: fayth, I lent but little eare vnto your talke, My mind was busied otherwise in troth, And so your words did vnregarded passe: Let this suffice, I am not as I was. I am not what I was! no Ile be sworne thou art not: for thou wert honest at fiue, & now th'art a Puncke at fifteene: thou wert yesterday a simple whore, and now th'art a cunning Conny-catching Baggage to day. Ile say I me worse, I pray forsake me then, I doe desire you leaue me, Gentlemen, And leaue your selues: O be not what you are, (Spendthrifts of soule and body) Let me perswade you to forsake all Harlots, Worse thē the deadliest poysons, they are worse: For o're their soules hangs an eternall curse, In being slaues to slaues, their labours perish, Th'are seldome blest with fruit; for ere it blossoms, Many a worme confounds it. They haue no issue but foule vgly ones, That run along with them, e'ene to their graues: For stead of children, they breed ranke diseases, And all, you Gallants, can bestow on them, Is that French Infant, which n'ere acts but speaks: What shallow sonne & heire then, foolish gallāt, Would waste all his inheritance, to purchase A filthy loathd disease? and pawne his body To a dry euill: that vsurie's worst of all, When th'interest will eate out the principall. Sfoot, she guls em the best: this is alwaies her fashion, when she would be rid of any company that she cares not for, to inioy mine alone. Whats here? instructions, Admonitions, and Caueats? come out, you scabberd of vengeance. Fluello, spurne your hounds when they fyste, you shall not spurne my Punk, I can tell you my bloud is vext. Pox a your bloud: make it a quarrell. Y'are a Slaue, will that serue turne? Sbloud, hold, hold. Matheo, Fluello, for shame put vp. Spurne my sweet Varlet! O how many thus Mou'd with a little folly, haue let out Their soules in Brothell houses, fell downe and dyed Iust at their Harlots foot, as 'twere in pride. Matheo, we shall meet. I, I, any where, sauing at Church: pray take heed we meet not there. Adue, Damnation. Cockatrice, farewell. There's more deceit in women, then in hel. Ha, ha, thou doest gull em so rarely, so naturally: if I did not think thou hadst bin in earnest: thou art a sweet Rogue for't ifayth. Why are not you gone to, Signior Matheo? I pray depart my house: you may beleeue me, In troth I haue no part of Harlot in me. How's this? Indeed I loue you not: but hate you worse Then any man, because you were the first Gaue money for my soule; you brake the Ice, Which after turnd a puddle: I was led By your temptation to be miserable: I pray seeke out some other that will fall, Or rather (I pray) seeke out none at all.