1 The Honest Whore (1 The Converted Courtesan) (The Patient Man and the Honest Whore) · chunk 37 of 48
Dekker, Thomas / Middleton, Thomas · published 1604 · first performed or written 1604 (Annals) comedy · Prince Henry's Men T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour typicality 0.84 · 482 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
What Lady? Infaelice, she's revived; revived: alack! death never had the heart, To take breath from her. umh: I thank you sir, Physic prolongs life, when it cannot save, This helps not my hopes. mine are in their grave: You do some wrong to mock me. By that love, Which I have ever borne you, what I speak Is truth: the maiden lives: that funeral, Duke's tears, the morning, was all counterfeit, A sleepy draft cozened the world and you, I was his minister and then chambered up, To stop discovery. O treacherous Duke: He cannot hope so certainly for bliss: As he believes that I have poisoned you, He wooed me to't, I yielded, and confirmed him, In his most bloody thoughts. A very devil! Her did he closely coach to Bergamo, And thither? Will I ride, stood Bergamo, In the low countries of black hell, i'll to her. You shall to her, but not to Bergamo, How passion makes you fly beyond yourself. Much of that weary journey iha cut off, For she by letters hath intelligence, Of your supposed death, her own interment, And all those plots, which that false Duke, (her father) Has wrought against you: And she'll meet you. O when: Nay see: how covetous are your desires, easily tomorrow morn. O where good father. At Bethlem monastery: are you pleased now? At Bethlem monastery: the place well fits, It is the school where those that lose their wits, practice again to get them: I am sick Of that disease, all love is lunatic. we'll steal away, this night in some disguise, Father Anselmo, a most reverend Friar, Expects our coming, before whom we'll lay, Reasons so strong, that he shall yield, in bonds, Oh holy wedlock, to tie both your hands. This is such happiness: That to believe it, 'tis impossible. Let all your joys then die in misbelief, I will reveal no more. O yes good father, I am so well acquainted with despair, I know not how to hope: I believe all. we'll hence this night, much must be done, much said But if the Doctor fail not in his charms, Your Lady shall ere morning fill these arms. heavenly Physician: far thy fame shall spread, That mak'st two lovers speak when they be dead. O watch good George, watch which way the Duke comes. Here comes one of the butter flies, ask him. Pray sir, comes the duke this way. He's upon coming mistress. I thank you sir: George are there many mad-folks, where thy Master lies. O yes, of all countries some, but especially mad greekes they swarm: troth mistress, the world is altered with you, you had not wont to stand thus with a paper humbly complaining: but you're well enough served: provender pricked you, as it does many of our City-wives beside. Dost think George we shall get him forth.
seed 43: T0 · seed 44: T0 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
What Lady? Infaelice, Shees reuiude; Reuiude: alacke! death neuer had the hart, To take breath from her. Vmh: I thanke you sir, Phisicke prolongs life, when it cannot saue, This helpes not my hopes. mine are in their graue: You doe some wrong to mocke me. By that loue, Which I haue euer borne you, what I speake Is trueth: the maiden liues: that funerall, Dukes teares, the morning, was all counterfet, A sleepy draught cozend the world and you, I was his minister and then chambred vp, To stop discouery. O trecherous Duke: He cannot hope so certainely for blisse: As he beleeues that I haue poysond you, He wode me toot, I yeelded, and confirm'd him, In his most bloudy thoughts. A very deuill! Her did he closely coach to Bergamo, And thither? Will I ride, stood Bergamo, In the low countries of blacke hell, ile to her. You shall to her, but not to Bergamo, How passion makes you fly beyond your selfe. Much of that weary iourney I'ha cut off, For she by letters hath intelligence, Of your supposed death, her owne interment, And all those plots, which that false Duke, (her father) Has wrought against you: And sheele meete you. O when: Nay see: how couetous are your desires, Eaely to morrow morne. O where good father. At Bethlem monasterie: are you pleasd now? At Bethlem monasterie: the place well fits, It is the scoole where those that loose their wits, Practise againe to get them: I am sicke Of that disease, all loue is lunaticke. Weele steale away, this night in some disguise, Father Anselmo, a most euerend Frier, Expects our comming, before whom weele lay, Reasons so strong, that he shall yeeld, in bonds, Oh holy wedlocke, to tie both your hands. This is such happinesse: That to beleeue it▪ tis impossible. Let all your ioyes then die in misbeliefe, I will reueale no more. O yes good father, I am so well acquainted with despaire, I know not how to hope: I beleeue all. Weele hence this night, much must be done, much said But if the Doctor faile not in his charmes, Your Lady shall ere morning fill these armes. heauenly Phisition: far thy fame shall sprede, That mak'st two louers speake when they be dead. O watch good George, watch which way the Duke comes. Here comes one of the butter flies, aske him. Pray sir, comes the duke this way. He's vpon comming mistris. I thanke you sir: Geroge are there many madfolkes, where thy Maister lies. O yes, of all countries some, but especially mad greekes they swarme: troth mistris, the world is altered with you, you had not wont to stand thus with a paper humblie complaining: but you're well enough seru'd: prouander prickt you, as it does many of our Cittie-wiues besides. Doest thinke George we shall get him forth.