1 The Honest Whore (1 The Converted Courtesan) (The Patient Man and the Honest Whore) · chunk 31 of 48
Dekker, Thomas / Middleton, Thomas · published 1604 · first performed or written 1604 (Annals) comedy · Prince Henry's Men unassigned nearest T48 Addressing a lady: love, desire and inti · 508 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T48: lady, love, heart, fair, eyes, la, lord, tears, fie, face.
Woman I beseech thee, Get thee some other suit, this fits thee not, I would not grant it to a kneeling Queen, I cannot love thee, nor I must not: See, The copy of that obligation, Where my soul's bound in heavy penalties. She's dead you told me, she'll let fall her suit. My vows to her, fled after her to heaven, Were thine eyes clear as mine, thou mightst behold her, Watching upon yond battlements of stars, How I observe them: should I break my bond, This board would rive in twain, these wooden lips Call me most perjured villain, let it suffice, I ha' set thee in the path; Is't not a sign, I love thee, when with one so most most dear, I'll have thee fellows? All are fellows there. Be greater than a king, save not a body, But from eternal shipwreck keep a soul, If not, and that again, sins path I tread, The grief be mine, the guilt fall on thy head. Stay and take Physic for it, read this book, Ask counsel of this head what's to be done, He'll strike it dead that 'tis damnation, If you turn Turk again, oh do it not, The heaven cannot allure you to do well From doing ill let hell fright you: and learn this, The soul whose bosom lust did never touch, Is God's fair bride, and maiden's souls are such: The soul that leaving chastities white shore, Swims in hot sensual streams, is the devils whore, How now: who comes. No more knaves my Lord that wear smocks: here's a letter from doctor Benedict; I would not enter his man, though he had hairs at his mouth, for fear he should be a woman, for some women have beards, mary they are half witches, Slid you are a sweet youth to wear a codpiece, and have no pins to stick upon't. I'll meet the doctor, tell him, yet tonight I cannot: but at morrow rising Sun I will not fail: go: woman fare thee well. The lowest fall can be but into hell, It does not move him. I must therefore fly, From this undoing City, and with tears, Wash off all anger from my father's brow, He cannot sure but joy seeing me new borne, A woman honest first and then turn whore, Is (as with me) common to thousands more, But from a strumpet to turn chaste: that sound, Has oft been heard, that woman hardly found. Hold up your hands gentlemen: here's one, two, three, (nay I warrant they are sound pistols, and without flaws, I had them (of my sister, and I know she uses to put nothing that's cracked,) three, four, five, six, seven, eight and nine, by this hand bring me but a piece of his blood. and you shall have 9. more. I'll lurk in a tavern not far off, & provide supper to close up the end of the Tragedy, the linen drapers remēber-stand to't I beseech you, & play your parts perfectly.
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)
Woman I beseech thee, Get thee some other suite, this fits thee not, I would not grant it to a kneeling Queene, I cannot loue thee, nor I must not: See, The copy of that obligation, Where my soule's bound in heauy penalties. She's dead you told me, shele let fal her suite. My vowes to her, fled after her to heauen, Were thine eyes cleere as mine, thou mightst behold her, Watching vpon yon battlements of starres, How I obserue them: should I breake my bond, This bord would riue in twaine, these wooden lippes Call me most periurde villaine, let it suffice, I ha set thee in the path; Ist not a signe, I loue thee, when with one so most most deare, Ile haue thee fellowes? All are fellowes there. Be greater then a king, saue not a body, But from eternall shipwracke keepe a soule, If not, and that againe, sinnes path I tread, The griefe be mine, the guilt fall on thy head. Stay and take Phisicke for it, read this booke, Aske counsell of this head whats to be done, Hele strike it dead that tis damnation, If you turne turke againe, oh doe it not, The heauen cannot allure you to doe well From doing ill let hell fright you: and learne this, The soule whose bosome lust did neuer touch, Is Gods faire bride, and maidens soules are such: The soule that leauing chastities white shore, Swims in hot sensuall streames, is the diuels whore, How now: who comes. No more knaues my Lord that weare smocks: heres a letter from doctor Benedict; I would not enter his man, tho he had haires at his mouth, for feare he should be a woman, for some women haue beardes, mary they are halfe witches, Slid you are a sweete youth to weare a codpeece, and haue no pinnes to sticke vpont. Ile meete the doctor, tell him, yet to night I cannot: but at morrow rising Sunne I will not faile: go: woman fare thee well. The lowest fall can be but into hell, It does not moue him. I must therefore fly, From this vndoing Cittie, and with teares, Wash off all anger from my fathers brow, He cannot sure but ioy seeing me new borne, A woman honest first and then turne whore, Is (as with me) common to thousands more, But from a trumphet to turne chast: that sound, Has oft bin heard, that woman hardly found. Hold vp your hands gentlemen: heres one, two, three, (nay I warrant they are sound pistols, and without flawes, I had them (of my sister, and I know she vses to put nothing thats crackt,) three, foure, fiue, sixe, seuen, eight and nine, by this hand bring me but a piece of his bloud. and you shall haue 9. more. Ile lurke in a tauerne not far off, & prouide supper to close vp the end of the Tragedy, the linnen drapers remēber-stand toot I beseech you, & play your partes perfectly.