1 The Honest Whore (1 The Converted Courtesan) (The Patient Man and the Honest Whore) · chunk 39 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 0.81 · 474 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
You have longed fair; 'tis you are mad I fear, It's fit to fetch him thence, and keep you there: If he be mad, why would you have him forth? And please your grace, he's not stark mad, but only talks like a young Gentleman, somewhat fantastically, that's all: there's a thousand about your court, city and country madder than he. Provide a warrant, you shall have our hand. Here's a warrant ready drawn my Lord. Get pen & Ink, get pen & ink: Where is my Lord the Duke? How now? more mad men. I have strange news my Lord. Of what? of whom? Of Infaelice, and a marriage. Ha! where? with whom. Hipolito. Here my Lord. Hence with that woman, void the room. Away, the Duke's vexed. Whoop, come mistress the Duke's mad too. Who told me that Hipolito was dead? He that can make any man dead, the Doctor: but my Lord, he's as full of life as wildfire, and as quick: Hipolito, the Doctor, and one more rid hence this evening; the Inn at which they light is Bethlem monastery: Infaeliche comes from Bergamo, and meets them there: Hipolito is mad, for he means this day to be married, the afternoon is the hour, and friar Anselmo is the knitter. From Bergamo? is't possible? it cannot be, It cannot be. I will not swear my Lord, But this intelligence I took from one, Whose brains works in the plot. What's he? Mathaeo. Mathaeo knows all. he's Hipolito's bosom. How far stands Bethlem hence? Six or seven miles. Is't even so, not married till the afternoon you say? Stay, stay, let's work out some prevention: how: This is most strange, can none but madmen serve To dress their wedding dinner? All of you, Get presently to horse; disguise yourselves Like country-gentlemen, Or riding citizens, or so: and take Each man a several path, but let us meet, At Bethlem Monastery, some space of time Being spent between the arrival each of other, As if we came to see the Lunatics. To horse, away, be secret on your lives, Love must be punished that unjustly thrives. Be secret on your lives! Castruchio You're but a scurvy Spaniel; honest Lord, Good Lady: Zounds their love is just, 'tis good, And I'll prevent you, though I swim in blood. Nay, nay, resolve good father, or deny. You press me to an act, both full of danger, And full of happiness, for I behold. Your father's frowns, his threats, nay perhaps death, To him that dare do this, yet noble Lord, Such comfortable beams break through these clouds, By this blessed marriage, that your honoured word Being pawned in my defence) I will tie fast, The holy wedding Knot. Tush fear not the Duke. O son, wisely to fear: Is to be free from fear.
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)
You haue longd fayre; tis you are mad I feare, Its fit to fetch him thence, and keepe you there: If he be mad▪ why would you haue him forth? And please your grace, hees not starke mad, but onely talkes like a young Gentleman, somewhat phantastically, thats all: theres a thousand about your court, citty and countrie madder then he. Prouide a warrant, you shall haue our hand. Heres a warrant ready drawne my Lord. Get pen & Inck, get pen & inck: Where is my Lord the Duke? How now? more mad men. I haue strange newes my Lord. Of what? of whom? Of Infaelice, and a mariage. Ha! where? with whom. Hipolito. Here my Lord. Hence with that woman, voyd the roome. Away, the Duke's vext. Whoop, come mistris the Duke's mad too. Who told me that Hipolito was dead? He that can make any man dead, the Doctor: but my Lord, hees as full of life as wilde-fire, and as quick: Hipolito, the Doctor, and one more rid hence this euening; the Inne at which they light is Bethlem Monastarie: Infaeliche comes from Bergamo, and meetes them there: Hipolito is mad, for he meanes this day to be maryed, the after-noone is the houre, and Frier Anselmo is the knitter. From Bergamo? ist possible? it cannot be, It cannot be. I will not sweare my Lord, But this intelligence I tooke from one, Whose braines workes in the plot. Whats he? Mathaeo. Mathaeo knowes all. Hees Hipolitoes bosome. How farre stands Bethlem hence? Six or seauen miles. Ist euen so, not maried till the afternoone you say? Stay, stay, lets worke out some preuention: how: This is most strange, can none but mad-men serue To dresse their wedding dinner? All of you, Get presently to horse; disguise your selues Like Countrie-Gentlemen, Or riding cittizens, or so: and take Each man a seuerall path, but let vs meete, At Bethlem Monasterie, some space of time Being spent betweene the arriuall each of other, As if we came to see the Lunaticks. To horse, away, be secret on your liues, Loue must be punisht that vniustly thriues. Be secret on your liues! Castruchio Y'are but a scuruy Spaniell; honest Lord, Good Lady: Zounds their loue is iust, tis good, And Ile preuent you, tho I swim in bloud. Nay, nay, resolue good father, or deny. You presse me to an act, both full of danger, And full of happinesse, for I behold. Your fathers frownes, his threats, nay perhaps death, To him that dare doe this, yet noble Lord, Such comfortable beames breake through these clowdes, By this blest mariage, that your honord word Being pawnd in my defence) I will tie fast, The holy wedding Knot. Tush feare not the Duke. O sonne, wisely to feare: Is to be free from feare.