1 The Honest Whore (1 The Converted Courtesan) (The Patient Man and the Honest Whore) · chunk 47 of 48
Dekker, Thomas / Middleton, Thomas · published 1604 · first performed or written 1604 (Annals) comedy · Prince Henry's Men unassigned nearest T28 Marriage-making: weddings, brides and ma · 505 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T28: married, marriage, wedding, day, bride, father, wife, luce, love, husband.
Baa, lamb! there you lie for I am mutton; look fine man, he was mad for me once, and I was mad for him once, and he was mad for her once, and were you never mad? yes I warrant, I had a fine jewel once, a very fine jewel and that naughty man stole it away from me, a very fine jewel. What jewel pretty maid. Maid nay that's a lie, O 'twas a very rich jewel, called a Maidenhead, and had not you it leerer. Out you mad Ass away. Had he thy Maidenhead? he shall make thee amends, and marry thee. Shall he? o brave Arthur of Bradly then? And if he bear the mind of a Gentleman, I know he will. I think I rifled her of some such paltry jewel. Did you? then marry her, you see the wrong Has led her spirits into a lunacy. How, marry her my Lord? 'sfoot marry a madwoman: let a man get the tamest wife he can come by, she'll be mad enough afterward, do what he can. Nay then, father Anselmo here shall do his best, To bring her to her wits, and will you then? I cannot tell, I may choose. Nay then law shall compel: I tell you sir, So much her hard fate moves me: you should not breathe i'll marry her. Under this air, unless you married her. Well then, when her wits stand in their right place, I thank your grace, Mathaeo thou art mine, I am not mad, but put on this disguise, Only for you my Lord, for you can tell Much wonder of me, but you are gone: farewell. Mathaeo thou didst first turn my soul black, Now make it white again, I do protest, I'm pure as fire now, chaste as Cynthia's breast. I durst be sworn Mathaeo she's indeed. coney-catched, gulled, must I sail in your flyboat, Because I helped to rear your mainmast first: Plague found you for't,- 'tis well. The Cuckold's stamp goes currant in all Nations, Some men have horns given them at their creations, If I be one of those, why so: it's better To take a common wench, and make her good, Than one that simpers and at first, will scarce Be tempted forth over the threshold door, Yet in one sennight zounds, turns arrant whore, Come wench, thou shalt be mine, give me thy golls, we'll talk of legs hereafter: see my Lord, God give us joy. God give you joy. Come mistress we are in Bedlam now, mass and see, we come in pudding-time, for here's the Duke. My husband good my Lord. Have I thy husband? It's Candido my Lord, he's here among the lunatics: father Anselmo, pray fetch him forth: this mad woman is his wife, and though she were not with child, yet did she long most spitefully to have her husband mad, and because she would be sure, he should turn Iew, she placed him here in Bethlem, yonder he comes.
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)
Baa, lamb! there you lie for I am mutton; looke fine man, he was mad for me once, and I was mad for him once, and he was madde for her once, and were you neuer mad? yes I warrant, I had a fine iewell once, a very fine iewell and that naughty man stoale it away from me, a very fine iewell. What iewell pretty maide. Maide nay thats a lie, O twas a very rich iewell, calde a Maidenhead, and had not you it leerer. Out you mad Asse away. Had he thy Maiden-head? he shall make thee amends, and marry thee. Shall he? ô braue Arthur of Bradly then? And if he beare the minde of a Gentleman, I know he will. I thinke I rifled her of some such paltry Iewell. Did you? then mary her, you see the wrong Has led her spirits into a lunacie. How, marry her my Lord? sfoot marry a mad-woman: let a man get the tamest wife he can come by, sheele be mad enough afterward, doe what he can. Nay then, father Anselmo here shall do his best, To bring her to her wits, and will you then? I cannot tell, I may choose. Nay then law shall compell: I tell you sir, So much her hard fate moues me: you should not breath ile mary her. Vnder this ayre, vnlesse you marryed her. Well then, when her wits stand in their right place, I thanke your grace, Mathaeo thou art mine, I am not mad, but put on this disguise, Onely for you my Lord, for you can tell Much wonder of me, but you are gon: farewell. Mathaeo thou didst first turne my soule black, Now make it white agen▪ I doe protest, Ime pure as fire now, chaste as Cynthias brest. I durst be sworne Mathaeo she's indeed. Cony-catcht, guld, must I saile in your flie-boate, Because I helpt to reare your maine-mast first: Plague found you fort, - tis well. The Cuckolds stampe goes currant in all Nations, Some men haue hornes giuen them at their creations, If I be one of those, why so: its better To take a common wench, and make her good, Than one that simpers and at first, will scarse Be tempted forth ouer the threshold dore, Yet in one sennight ounds, turnes arrant whore, Come wench, thou shalt be mine, giue me thy gols, Weele talke of legges hereafter: see my Lord, God giue vs ioy. God giue you ioy. Come mistris we are in Bedlam now, mas and see, we come in pudding-time, for heres the Duke. My husband good my Lord. Haue I thy husband? Its Candido my Lord, he's here among the lunaticks: father Anselmo, pray fetch him forth: this mad woman is his wife, and tho shee were not with child, yet did she long most spitefully to haue her husband mad, and because shee would be sure, he should turne Iew, she placde him here in Bethlem, youder he comes.