2 The Honest Whore (2 The Converted Courtesan) · chunk 14 of 47
Dekker, Thomas · published 1630 · first performed or written 1605 [1604-c.1605] (Annals) comedy · Prince Henry's Men unassigned nearest T6 Money, debt and credit · 486 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T6: money, master, pound, law, lawyer, chain, gentleman, gold, pay, pray.
My twenty pounds flies high, O wretched woman, This varlet's able to make Lucrece common. How now Mistress? has my Master died you into this sad colour? Fellow, be gone I pray thee; if thy tongue itch after talk so much, seek out thy Master, thouart a fit instrument for him. zounds, I hope he will not play upon me? Play on thee? no, you two will fly together, Because you are roving arrows of one feather. Would thou wouldst leave my house, thou ne'er shalt Please, me weave thy nets ne'er so high, Thou shalt be but a spider in mine eye. thouart rank with poison, poison tempered well, Is food for health; but thy black tongue doth swell With venom, to hurt him that gave thee bread, To wrong men absent, is to spurn the dead. And so didst thou thy Master, and my Father. You have small reason to take his part; for I have heard him say five hundred times, you were as arrant a whore as ever stiffened tiffany neck-cloths in water-starch upon a Saturday i'th' afternoon. Let him say worse, when for the earth's offence Hot vengeance through the marble clouds is driven, Is't fit earth shoot again those darts at heaven? And so if your Father call you whore, you'll not call him old knave: Friscabaldo, she carries thy mind up and down; she's thine own flesh, blood, and bone; troth Mistress, to tell you true, the fireworks that ran from me upon lines against my good old Master, your father, were but to try how my young Master, your Husband loved such squibs: but it's well known, I love your father as myself; I'll ride for him at midnight, run for you by Owl-light; I'll die for him, drudge for you; I'll fly low, and I'll fly high (as my Master says) to do you good, if you'll forgive me. I am not made of marble: I forgive thee. Nay, if you were made of marble, a good Stone-cutter might cut you: I hope the twenty pound I delivered to my Master, is in a sure hand. In a sure hand I warrant thee for spending. I see my young Master is a madcap, and a bonus socius, I love him well, Mistress: yet as well as I love him, I'll not play the knave with you; look you, I could cheat you of this purse full of money; but I am an old Lad, and I scorn to coney-catch: yet I ha' been Dog at a coney in my time. A purse, where hadst it? The Gentleman that went away, whispered in mine care, and charged me to give it you. The Lord Hipollito? Yes, if he be a Lord, he gave it me. 'Tis all gold. 'Tis like so: it may be, he thinks you want money, and therefore bestows his alms bravely, like a Lord.
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)
My twenty pounds flyes high, O wretched woman, This varlot's able to make Lucrece common. How now Mistris? has my Master dyed you into this sad colour? Fellow, be gone I pray thee; if thy tongue itch after talke so much, seeke out thy Master, th'art a fit instrument for him. Zownes, I hope he will not play vpon me? Play on thee? no, you two will flye together, Because you are rouing arrowes of one feather. Would thou wouldst leaue my house, thou ne'r shalt Please, me weaue thy nets ne'r so hye, Thou shalt be but a spider in mine eye. Th'art ranke with poyson, poyson temperd well, Is food for health; but thy blacke tongue doth swell With venome, to hurt him that gaue thee bread, To wrong men absent, is to spurne the dead. And so did'st thou thy Master, and my Father. You haue small reason to take his part; for I haue heard him say fiue hundred times, you were as arrant a whore as euer stiffned tiffany neckcloathes in water-starch vpon a Saturday 'ith afternoone. Let him say worse, when for the earths offence Hot vengeance through the marble cloudes is driuen, Is't fit earth shoot agen those darts at heauen? And so if your Father call you whore, you'll not call him old knaue: Friscabaldo, she carries thy mind vp and downe; she's thine owne flesh, blood, and bone; troth Mistris, to tell you true, the fireworkes that ran from me vpon lines against my good old Master, your father, were but to try how my young Master, your Husband loued such squibs: but it's well knowne, I loue your father as my selfe; Ile ride for him at mid-night, runne for you by Owle-light; Ile dye for him, drudge for you; Ile flye low, and Ile flye hye (as my Master saies) to doe you good, if you'll forgiue me. I am not made of marble: I forgiue thee. Nay, if you were made of marble, a good Stonecutter might cut you: I hope the twenty pound I deliuered to my Master, is in a sure hand. In a sure hand I warrant thee for spending. I see my yong Master is a madcap, and a bonus socius, I loue him well, Mistris: yet as well as I loue him, Ile not play the knaue with you; looke you, I could cheat you of this purse full of money; but I am an old Lad, and I scorne to cunny-catch: yet I ha beene Dog at a Cony in my time. A purse, where hadst it? The Gentleman that went away, whisperd in mine care, and charged me to giue it you. The Lord Hipollito? Yes, if he be a Lord, he gaue it me. 'Tis all gold. 'Tis like so: it may be, he thinkes you want money, and therefore bestowes his almes brauely, like a Lord.