1 The Honest Whore (1 The Converted Courtesan) (The Patient Man and the Honest Whore) · chunk 46 of 48
Dekker, Thomas / Middleton, Thomas · published 1604 · first performed or written 1604 (Annals) comedy · Prince Henry's Men T15 Friars and holy orders in plot typicality 0.90 · 486 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T15: friar, lord, holy, friars, robin, peggy, lacie, angelo, love, nun.
Troth so does your nose, nay let's shake hands with you too: Pray open, here's a fine hand, Ho friar ho, God be here, So he had need: you'll keep good cheer, Here's a free table, but a frozen breast, For you'll starve those that love you best. Yet you have good fortune, for if I am no liar, Than you are no Friar, nor you, nor you no Friar Haha haha. Are holy habits cloaks for villainy? Draw all your weapons. do, draw all your weapons. Where are your weapons, draw. The Friar has gulled us of 'em. O rare trick: You ha' learned one mad point of arithmetic. Why swells your spleen so high? against what bosom, Would you your weapons draw? hers! 'tis your daughters: Mine! 'tis your sons. Son? Son, by yonder Sun. You cannot shed blood here, but 'tis your own, To spill your own blood were damnation, Lay smooth that wrinkled brow, and I will throw myself beneath your feet, Let it be rugged still and flinted o'er, What can come forth but sparkles, that will burn, yourself and us? she's mine; my claim's most good, she's mine by marriage, though she's yours by blood. I have a hand dear Lord, deep in this act, For I foresaw this storm, yet willingly Put fourth to meet it? Oft have I seen a father Washing the wounds of his dear son in tears, A son to curse the sword that struck his father, Both slain i'th' quarrel of your families, Those scars are now ta'en off: And I beseech you, To seal our pardon, all was to this end To turn the ancient hates of your two houses To fresh green friendship, that your Loves might look: Like the spring's forehead, comfortably sweet, And your vexed souls in peaceful union meet, Their blood will now be yours, yours will be theirs, And happiness shall crown your silver hairs. You see my Lord there's now no remedy. Beseech your Lordship. You beseech fair, you have me in place fit To bridle me, rise Friar. you may be glad You can make madmen tame, and tame men mad, Since fate hath conquered, I must rest content, To strive now would but ad new punishment: I yield unto your happiness, be blessed, Our families shall henceforth breathe in rest. O happy change. Yours now is my consent, I throw upon your joys my full consent. Am not I a good girl, for finding the Friar in the well? gods so you are a brave man: will not you buy me some Sugar plums because I am so good a fortune teller. Would thou hadst wit thou pretty soul to ask, As I have will to give. Pretty soul, a pretty soul is better than a pretty body: do not you know my pretty soul? I know you: Is not your name Mathaeo. Yes lamb.
seed 43: T19 · seed 44: T20 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Troth so does your nose, nay lets shake hands with you too: Pray open, heres a fine hand, Ho Fryer ho, God be here, So he had need: youle keepe good cheere, Heres a free table, but a frozen breast, For youle starue those that loue you best. Yet you haue good fortune, for if I am no lyar, Then you are no Frier, nor you, nor you no Frier Haha haha. Are holy habits cloakes for villanie? Draw all your weapons. doe, draw all your weapons. Where are your weapons, draw. The Frier has guld vs of em. O rare tricke: You ha learnt one mad point of Arithmaticke. Why swels your spleene so hie? against what bosome, Would you your weapons draw? hers! tis your daughters: Mine! tis your sonnes. Sonne? Sonne, by yonder Sunne. You cannot shed blould here, but tis your owne, To spill your owne bloud were damnation, Lay smooth that wrinckled brow, and I will throw My selfe beneath your feete, Let it be rugged still and flinted o're, What can come forth but sparkles, that will burne, Your selfe and vs? Shees mine; my claymes most good, Shees mine by marriage, tho shees yours by bloud. I haue a hand deare Lord, deepe in this act, For I foresaw this storme, yet willingly Put fourth to meete it? Oft haue I seene a father Washing the wounds of his deare sonne in teares, A sonne to curse the sword that strucke his father, Both slaine ith quarrell of your families, Those scars are now tane off: And I beseech you, To seale our pardon, all was to this end To turne the ancient hates of your two houses To fresh greene friendship, that your Loues might looke: Like the springs forehead, comfortably sweete, And your vext soules in peacefull vnion meete, Their bloud will now be yours, yours will be theirs, And happinesse shall crowne your siluer haires. You see my Lord theres now no remedy. Beseech your Lordship. You beseech faire, you haue me in place fit To bridle me, rise Frier. you may be glad You can make madmen tame, and tame men mad, Since fate hath conquered, I must rest content, To striue now would but ad new punishment: I yeeld vnto your happinesse, be blest, Our families shall henceforth breath in rest. O happy change. Yours now is my consent, I throw vpon your ioyes my full consent. Am not I a good girle, for finding the Frier in the wel? gods so you are a braue man: will not you buy me some Suger plums because I am so good a fortune teller. Would thou hadst wit thou pretty soule to aske, As I haue will to giue. Pretty soule, a prety soule is better than a prety body: do not you know my prety soule? I know you: Is not your name Mathaeo. Yes lamb.