2 The Honest Whore (2 The Converted Courtesan) · chunk 15 of 47
Dekker, Thomas · published 1630 · first performed or written 1605 [1604-c.1605] (Annals) comedy · Prince Henry's Men unassigned nearest T47 Knaves, thieves and bawds · 481 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T47: knave, rogue, money, knaves, thief, rogues, pray, whore, nichol, book.
He thinks a silver net can catch the poor, Here's bait to choke a Nun, and turn her whore. Wilt thou be honest to me? As your nails to your fingers, which I think never deceived you. Thou to this Lord shalt go, commend me to him, And tell him this, the Town has held out long, Because (within) 'twas rather true, then strong. To sell it now were base; Say 'tis no hold Built of weak stuff, to be blown up with gold. He shall believe thee by this token, or this; if not, by this. Is this all? This is all. Mine own Girl still. A Star may shoot, not fall. A Star? nay, thou art more than the moon, for thou hast neither changing quarters, nor a man standing in thy circle with a bush of thorns. Is't possible the Lord Hipollito, whose face is as civil as the outside of a Dedicatory Book, should be a muttonmonger? A poor man has but one Ewe, and this Grandy sheep-biter leaves whole Flocks of fat wethers (whom he may knock down) to devour this. I'll trust neither Lord nor Butcher with quick flesh for this trick; the Cuckoo I see now sings all the year, though every man cannot hear him, but I'll spoil his notes; can neither love-letters, nor the devil's common Picklocks (Gold) nor Precious Stones make my Girl draw up her portcullis: hold out still, wench. All are not Bawds (I see now) that keep doors, Nor all good wenches that are marked for Whores. Come, come, come, what do ye lack, sir? what do ye lack, sir? what is't ye lack, sir? is not my Worship well suited? did you ever see a Gentleman better disguised? Never, believe me, Signior. Yes: but when he has been drunk, there be Prentices would make mad Gallants, for they would spend all, and drink, and whore, and so forth; and I see we Gallants could make mad Prentices. How does thy wife like me? Nay, I must not be so saucy, than I spoil all: pray you how does my Mistress like me? Well: for she takes you for a very simple fellow. And they that are taken for such, are commonly the arrantest knaves: but to our Comedy, come. I shall not act it, chide you say, and fret, And grow impatient: I shall never do't. 'Sblood, cannot you do as all the world does? counterfeit. Were I a Painter, that should live by drawing nothing but Pictures of an angry man, I should not earn my colours; I cannot do't. Remember y'are a Linen Draper, and that if you give your wife a yard, she'll take an ell: give her not therefore a quarter of your yard, not a nail. Say I should turn to Ice, and nip her love now 'tis but in the blood.
seed 43: T27 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
He thinkes a siluer net can catch the poore, Here's baite to choake a Nun, and turne her whore. Wilt thou be honest to me? As your nailes to your fingers, which I thinke neuer deceiued you. Thou to this Lord shalt goe, commend me to him, And tell him this, the Towne has held out long, Because (within) 'twas rather true, then strong. To sell it now were base; Say 'tis no hold Built of weake stuffe, to be blowne vp with gold. He shall beleeue thee by this token, or this; if not, by this. Is this all? This is all. Mine owne Girle still. A Starre may shoote, not fall. A Starre? nay, thou art more then the moone, for thou hast neither changing quarters, nor a man standing in thy circle with a bush of thornes. Is't possible the Lord Hipollito, whose face is as ciuill as the outside of a Dedicatory Booke, should be a Muttonmunger? A poore man has but one Ewe, and this Grandy Sheepe-biter leaues whole Flockes of fat Weathers (whom he may knocke downe) to deuoure this. Ile trust neither Lord nor Butcher with quicke flesh for this tricke; the Cuckoo I see now sings all the yeere, though euery man cannot heare him, but Ile spoyle his notes; can neither Loue-letters, nor the Deuils common Pick-lockes (Gold) nor Precious Stones make my Girle draw vp her Percullis: hold out still, wench. All are not Bawds (I see now) that keepe doores, Nor all good wenches that are markt for Whores. Come, come, come, what doe yee lacke, sir? what doe ye lacke, sir? what is't ye lacke, sir? is not my Worship well suited? did you euer see a Gentleman better disguised? Neuer, beleeue me, Signior. Yes: but when he has bin drunke, there be Prentices would make mad Gallants, for they would spend all, and drinke, and whore, and so forth; and I see we Gallants could make mad Prentices. How does thy wife like me? Nay, I must not be so sawcy, then I spoyle all: pray you how does my Mistris like me? Well: for she takes you for a very simple fellow. And they that are taken for such, are commonly the arrantest knaues: but to our Comedy, come. I shall not act it, chide you say, and fret, And grow impatient: I shall neuer doo't. S'blood, cannot you doe as all the world does? counterfet. Were I a Painter, that should liue by drawing nothing but Pictures of an angry man, I should not earne my colours; I cannot doo't. Remember y'are a Linnen Draper, and that if you giue your wife a yard, she'll take an ell: giue her not therefore a quarter of your yard, not a nayle. Say I should turne to Ice, and nip her loue now 'tis but in the blood.