1 The Honest Whore (1 The Converted Courtesan) (The Patient Man and the Honest Whore) · chunk 42 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 · 461 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T47: knave, rogue, money, knaves, thief, rogues, pray, whore, nichol, book.
methinks you should have women here aswell as men. Oh, I: a plague on 'em, there's no ho with them, they are madder than march hairs. Are there no lawyers here amongst you? Oh no, not one: never any lawyer, we dare not let a lawyer come in, for he'll make 'em mad faster than we can recover 'em. And how long is't ere you recover any of these. Why according to the quantity of the Moon that's got into 'em, an Alderman's son will be mad a great while a very great while, especially if his friends left him well, a whore will hardly come to her wits again: a Puritan there's no hope of him, unless he may pull down the steeple and hang himself i'th' bell-ropes. I perceive all sorts of fish come to your net. Yes in truth, we have blocks for all heads, we have good store of wild oats here: for the Courtier is mad at the Citizen, the Citizen is mad at the Country men, the shoemaker is mad at the cobbler, the cobbler at the carman the punk is mad that the merchants wife is no whore, the merchants wife is mad that the punk is so common a whore: gods so, here's father Anselmo. pray say nothing that I tell tales out of the school. God bless you father. Thank you gentlemen. Pray may we see some of those wretched Souls, That here are in your keeping? Yes: you shall, But gentlemen I must disarm you then, There are of mad men, as there are of tame, All humoured not alike: we have here some, So apish and fantastic, play with a feather, And though 'twould grieve a soul, to see God's image, So blemished and defaced, yet do they act Such antic and such pretty lunacies, That spite of sorrow they will make you smile: Others again we have like hungry Lions, Fierce as wild Bulls, untameable as flies, And these have oftentimes from stranger's sides Snatched rapiers suddenly, and done much harm, Whom if you'll see, you must be weaponless. With all our hearts. Here: take these weapons in, Stand of a little pray, so, so, 'tis well: I'll show you here a man that was sometimes, A very grave and wealthy Citizen, Has served a prenticeship to this misfortune, been here seven years, and dwelled in Bergamo. How fell he from his wits? By loss at Sea: I'll stand aside, question him you alone, For if he spy me, he'll not speak a word, Unless he's thoroughly vexed. Alas poor soul. A very old man. God speed father. God speed the plough: thou shalt not speed me. We see you old man, for all you dance in a net.
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)
Me thinks you should haue women here aswel as men. Oh, I: a plague on em, theres no ho with them, they are madder then march haires. Are there no lawyers here amongst you? Oh no, not one: neuer any lawyer, we dare not let a lawyer come in, for heele make em mad faster than we can recouer em. And how long ist er'e you recouer any of these. Why according to the quantitie of the Moone thats got into em, an Aldermans sonne will be mad a great while a very great while, especially if his friends left him well, a whore will hardly come to her wits agen: a puritane ther's no hope of him, vnlesse he may pull downe the steeple and hang himselfe it'h bell-ropes. I perceiue all sorts of fish come to your net. Yes intruth, we haue blockes for all heads, we haue good store of wilde oates here: for the Courtier is mad at the Cittizen, the Cittizen is madde at the Country men, the shoomaker is mad at the cobler, the cobler at the carman the punke is mad that the Marchants wife is no whore, the Marchants wife is mad that the puncke is so common a whore: gods so, heres father Anselmo. pray say nothing that I tel tales out of the schoole. God blesse you father. Thanke you gentlemen. Pray may we see some of those wretched Soules, That here are in your keeping? Yes: you shall, But gentlemen I must disarme you then, There are of mad men, as there are of tame, All humourd not alike: we haue here some, So apish and phantastike, play with a fether, And tho twould greeue a soule, to see Gods image, So blemisht and defac'd, yet do they act Such anticke and such pretty lunacies, That spite of sorrow they will make you smile: Others agen we haue like hungry Lions, Fierce as wilde Buls, vntameable as flies, And these haue oftentimes from strangers sides Snatcht rapiers suddenly, and done much harme, Whom if youle see, you must be weaponlesse. With all our harts. Here: take these weapons in, Stand of a little pray, so, so, tis well: Ile shew you here a man that was sometimes, A very graue and wealthy Cittizen, Has serud a prentiship to this misfortune, Bin here seuen yeares, and dwelt in Bergamo. How fell he from his wits? By losse at Sea: Ile stand aside, question him you alone, For if he spy me, heele not speake a word, Vnlesse hees throughly vext. Alas poore soule. A very old man. God speed father. God speed the plough: thou shalt not speed me. We see you old man, for all you daunce in a net.