2 The Honest Whore (2 The Converted Courtesan) · chunk 3 of 47
Dekker, Thomas · published 1630 · first performed or written 1605 [1604-c.1605] (Annals) comedy · Prince Henry's Men T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour typicality 0.74 · 479 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
Oh sir, that cannot make me jealous. Your business, sir, to me? Yes my good Lord. Presently sir; are you Matheo's wife. That most unfortunate woman. I'm sorry these storms are fallen on him, I love Mathaeo. And any good shall do him, he and I. Have sealed two bonds of friendship, which are strong In me, however Fortune does him wrong; He speaks here he's condemned. Is't so? Too true. What was he whom he killed? Oh, his name's here; old lacomo, son to the Florentine lacomo, a dog, that to meet profit, would to the very eyelids wade in blood of his own children. Tell Mathaeo, the Duke my father hardly shall deny his signed pardon, 'twas fair fight, yes if rumour's tongue go true, so writes he here. Tomorrow morning I return from Court; Pray be you here then. I'll have done sir straight: But in troth say, are you Matheo's wife? You have forgot me. No, my Lord. Your Turner, That made you smooth to run an even bias, You know I loved you when your very soul Was full of discord: art not a good wench still? Umph, when I had lost my way to heaven, you showest it: I was new borne that day. 'Sfoot, my Lord, your Lady asks if you have not left your Wench yet? When you get in once, you never have done: come, come, come, pay your old score, and send her packing, come. Ride softly on before, I'll o'ertake you. Your Lady swears she'll have no riding on before, without ye. Prithee good Lodonico. My Lord pray hasten. I come: tomorrow let me see you, fare you well: commend me to Mathaeo: pray one word more: Does not your father live about the Court? I think he does, but such rude spots of shame Stick on my cheek, that he scarce knows my name. Orlando Friscabaldo, Is't not? Yes my Lord. What does he for you? All he should: when Children From duty start, Parents from love may swerve. He nothing does: for nothing I deserve. Shall I join him unto you, and restore you to wonted grace? It is impossible. It shall be put to trial: fare you well: The face I would not look on I sure then 'twas rare, When in despite of grief, 'tis still thus fair. Now, sir, your business with me. I am bold to express my love and duty to your Lordship in these few leaves. A Book! Yes my good Lord. Are you a Scholar? Yes, my Lord, a poor one. Sir, you honour me. king's may be Scholars Patrons, but faith tell me, To how many hands beside hath this bird flown, How many partners share with me? Not one in troth, not one: your name I held more dear, I'm not (my Lord) of that low Character.
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)
Oh sir, that cannot make me iealous. Your busines, sir, to me? Yes my good Lord. Presently sir; are you Mathaeos wife. That most vnfortunate woman. I'm sorry these stormes are fallē on him, I loue Mathaeo. And any good shall doe him, hee and I. Haue sealed two bonds of friendship, which are strong In me, how euer Fortune does him wrong; He speakes here hee's condemned. Is't so? Too true. What was he whom he killed? Oh, his name's here; old lacomo, sonne to the Florentine lacomo, a dog, that to meet profit, would to the very eyelids wade in blood of his owne children. Tell Mathaeo, the Duke my father hardly shall deny his signed pardon, 'twas faire fight, yes if rumors tongue goe true, so writes he here. To morrow morning I returne from Court; Pray be you here then. Ile haue done sir straight: But in troth say, are you Mathaeos wife? You haue forgot me. No, my Lord. Your Turner, That made you smooth to run an euen byas, You know I loued you when your very soule Was full of discord: art not a good wench still? Vmph, whē I had lost my way to heauen, you shewedit: I was new borne that day. S'foot, my Lord, your Lady askes if you haue not left your Wench yet? When you get in once, you neuer haue done: come, come, come, pay your old score, and send her packing, come. Ride softly on before, Ile oretake you. Your Lady sweares she'll haue no riding on before, without ye. Prethee good Lodonico. My Lord pray hasten. I come: to morrow let me see you, fare you well: commend me to Mathaeo: pray one word more: Does not your father liue about the Court? I thinke he does, but such rude spots of shame Stick on my cheeke, that he scarce knowes my name. Orlando Friscabaldo, Is't not? Yes my Lord. What does he for you? All he should: when Children From duty start, Parents from loue may swarue. He nothing does: for nothing I deserue. Shall I ioyne him vnto you, and restore you to wonted grace? It is impossible. It shall be put to tryall: fare you well: The face I would not looke on I sure then 'twas rare, When in despight of griefe, 'tis still thus faire. Now, sir, your businesse with me. I am bold to expresse my loue and duty to your Lordship in these few leaues. A Booke! Yes my good Lord. Are you a Scholler? Yes, my Lord, a poore one. Sir, you honor me. Kings may be Schollers Patrons, but faith tell me, To how many hands besides hath this bird flowne, How many partners share with me? Not one in troth, not one: your name I held more deare, I'm not (my Lord) of that low Character.