1 The Honest Whore (1 The Converted Courtesan) (The Patient Man and the Honest Whore) · chunk 38 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 0.75 · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
Truly mistress I cannot tell, I think you'll hardly get him forth: why 'tis strange! 'sfoot I have known many women that have had mad rascals to their husbands, whom they would belabour by all means possible to keep 'em in their right wits, but of a woman to long to turn a tame man into a madman, why the devil himself was never used so by his dam. How does he talk George! ha! good George tell me. Why your best go see. Alas I am afraid. Afraid! you had more need be ashamed: he may rather be afraid of you. But George he's not stark mad, is he? he does not rave, he's not horn-mad George is he? Nay I know not that, but he talks like a justice of peace, of a thousand matters and to no purpose. I'll to the monastery: I shall be mad till I enjoy him, I shallbe sick till I see him, yet when I do see him, I shall weep out mine eyes. ay, i'd fain see a woman weep out her eyes; that's as true, as to say, a man's cloak burns; when it hangs in the water: I know you'll weep mistress, but what says the painted cloth. Trust not a woman when she cries, For she'll pump water from her eyes, With a wet finger, and in faster showers, Than April when he rains down flowers. ay but George, that painted cloth is worthy to be hanged up for lying, all women have not tears at will, unless they have good cause. ay but mistress how easily will they find a cause, and as one of our Cheese-trenchers says very learnedly: As out of Wormwood Bees suck Honey, As from poor clients Lawyers firk money, As Parsley from a roasted coney. So though the day be near so sunny, If wives will have it rain, down then it drives, The calmest husbands make the stormest wives, Tame George, but I had on storming now. Why that's well done, good mistress throw aside this fashion of your humour, be not so fantastical in wearing it, storm no more, long no more.— This longing has made you come short of many a good thing that you might have had from my Master: Here comes the Duke. Oh I beseech you pardon my offence, In that I durst abuse your Graces warrant, Deliver forth my husband good my Lord. Who is her husband? Candido my Lord, Where is he? he's among the lunatics, He was a man made up without a gall, Nothing could move him, nothing could convert His meek blood into fury, yet like a monster, I often beat at the most constant rock Of his unshaken patience, and did long To vex him. Did you so? And for that purpose, Had warrant from your Grace, to carry him To Bethlem Monastery, whence they will not free him, Without your grace's hand that sent him in.
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)
Truly mistris I cannot tel, I thinke youle hardly get him forth: why tis strange▪ Sfoot I haue known many womē that haue had mad rascals to their husbāds, whom they would belabour by all meanes possible to keepe em in their right wits, but of a woman to long to turne a tame mā into a madman, why the diuell himselfe was neuer vsde so by his dam. How does he talke George! ha! good George tell me. Why youre best go see. Alas I am afraid. Afraid! you had more need be ashamd: he may rather be afraid of you. But George hees not starke mad, is hee? hee does not raue, hees not horne-mad George is he? Nay I know not that, but he talkes like a Iustice of peace, of a thousand matters and to no purpose. Ile to the monastery: I shall be mad till I inioy him, I shalbe sick till I see him, yet when I doe see him, I shall weepe out mine eyes. I, ide faine see a woman weepe out her eyes; thats as true, as to say, a mans cloake burnes; when it hangs in the water: I know youle weepe mistrisse, but what saies the painted cloth. Trust not a woman when she cryes, For sheele pump water from her eyes, With a wet finger, and in faster showers, Then Aprill when he raines downe flowers. I but George, that painted cloath is worthy to be hangd vp for lying, all women haue not teares at will, vnlesse they haue good cause. I but mistrisse how easily will they find a cause, and as one of our Cheese-trenchers sayes very learnedly: As out of Wormwood Bees suck Hony, As from poore clients Lawyers firke mony, As Parsley from a roasted cunny. So tho the day be nere so sunny, If wiues will haue it raine, downe then it driues, The calmest husbands make the stormest wiues, Tame George, but I had on storming now. Why thats well done, good mistris throw aside this fashion of your humor, be not so phantasticall in wearing it, storme no more, long no more.—This longing has made you come short of many a good thing that you might haue had from my Maister: Here comes the Duke. Oh I beseech you pardon my offence, In that I durst abuse your Graces warrant, Deliuer foorth my husband good my Lord. Who is her husband? Candido my Lord, Where is he? Hees among the lunaticks, He was a man made vp without a gall, Nothing could moue him, nothing could conuert His meeke bloud into fury, yet like a monster, I often beate at the most constant rock Of his vnshaken patience, and did long To vex him. Did you so? And for that purpose, Had warrant from your Grace, to cary him To Bethlem Monastery, whence they will not free him, Without your Graces hand that sent him in.