2 The Honest Whore (2 The Converted Courtesan) · chunk 2 of 47
Dekker, Thomas · published 1630 · first performed or written 1605 [1604-c.1605] (Annals) comedy · Prince Henry's Men T13 Knights, squires and ladies typicality 0.74 · 474 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T13: knight, raph, lady, knights, george, master, squire, rafe, pray, god.
Oh, look, he has a feeling of them. Not I, I protest, there's a saying when they commend Nations: It goes, the Irishman for his hand, Welshman for a leg, the Englishman for a face, the Dutchman for beard. i'faith, they may make swabbers of them. The Spaniard, let me see, for a little foot (I take it) the Frenchman, what a pox hath he? and so of the rest. Are they at breakfast yet? come walk. This Lodovico, is a notable tongued fellow. Discourses well. And a very honest Gentleman. Oh! he's well valued by my Lord. How now, how now, what's she? Let's make towards her. Will it be long, sir, ere my Lord come forth? Would you speak with my Lord? How now, what's this, a Nurse's Bill? hath any here got thee with child, and now will not keep it? No sir, my business is unto my Lord. he's about his own wife now, he'll hardly dispatch two causes in a morning. No matter what he says, fair Lady, he's a Knight, there's no hold to be taken at his words. My Lord will pass this way presently. A pretty plump Rogue. A good lusty bouncing baggage. Do you know her? A pox on her, I was sure her name was in my Table-book once, I know not of what cut her die is now, but she has been more common than Tobacco: this is she that had the name of the Honest Whore. Is this she? This is the Blackamoor that by washing was turned white: this is the Birding Piece new scoured: this is she that (if any of her religion can be saved) was saved by my Lord Hipolito. She has been a goodly creature. She has been! that's the Epitaph of all Whores, I'm well acquainted with the poor Gentleman her Husband, Lord! what fortunes that man has overreached? She knows not me, yet I have been in her company, I scarce know her, for the beauty of her cheek hath (like the Moon) suffered strange Eclipses since I beheld it: but women are like Medlars (no sooner ripe but rotten.) A woman last was made, but is spent first, Yet man is oft proved, in performance worst. My Lord is come. We ha' wasted half this morning: morrow Lodovico. Morrow Madam. Let's away to Horse. ay, I to Horse, to Horse. I do beseech your Lordship, let your eye read ere this wretched Paper. I'm in haste, pray the good woman take some apter time. Good Woman do. Oh 'las! it does concern a poor man's life. Life! sweet heart? Seat yourself, I'll but read this and come. What stockings have you put on this morning, Madam? if they be not yellow, change them; that paper is a Letter from some Wench to your Husband.
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)
Oh, looke, he has a feeling of them. Not I, I protest, there's a saying when they commend Nations: It goes, the Irishman for his hand, Welshman for a leg, the Englishman for a face, the Dutchman for beard. I faith, they may make swabbers of them. The Spaniard, let me see, for a little foot (I take it) the Frenchman, what a pox hath he? and so of the rest. Are they at breakfast yet? come walke. This Lodouico, is a notable tounged fellow. Discourses well. And a very honest Gentleman. Oh! hee's well valued by my Lord. How now, how now, what's she? Let's make towards her. Will it be long, sir, ere my Lord come forth? Would you speake with my Lord? How now, what's this, a Nurses Bill? hath any here got thee with child, and now will not keepe it? No sir, my businesse is vnto my Lord. Hee's about his owne wife now, hee'le hardly dispatch two causes in a morning. No matter what he saies, faire Lady, hee's a Knight, there's no hold to be taken at his words. My Lord will passe this way presently. A pretty plumpe Rogue. A good lusty bouncing baggage. Doe you know her? A pox on her, I was sure her name was in my Tablebooke once, I know not of what cut her dye is now, but she has beene more common then Tobacco: this is she that had the name of the Honest Whore. Is this she? This is the Blackamore that by washing was turned white: this is the Birding Peece new scowred: this is shee that (if any of her religion can be saued) was saued by my Lord Hipolito. She has beene a goodly creature. She has bin! that's the Epitaph of all Whores, I'm well acquainted with the poore Gentleman her Husband, Lord! what fortunes that man has ouerreached? She knowes not me, yet I haue beene in her company, I scarce know her, for the beauty of her cheeke hath (like the Moone) suffred strange Eclipses since I beheld it: but women are like Medlars (no sooner ripe but rotten.) A woman last was made, but is spent first, Yet man is oft proued, in performance worst. My Lord is come. We ha wasted halfe this morning: morrow Lodouico. Morrow Madam. Let's away to Horse. I, I to Horse, to Horse. I doe beseech your Lordship, let your eye read e're this wretched Paper. I'm in hast, pray the good womā take some apter time. Good Woman doe. Oh las! it does concerne a poore mans life. Life! sweet heart? Seat your selfe, Il'e but read this and come. What stockings haue you put on this morning, Madam? if they be not yellow, change them; that paper is a Letter from some Wench to your Husband.