2 The Honest Whore (2 The Converted Courtesan) · chunk 17 of 47
Dekker, Thomas · published 1630 · first performed or written 1605 [1604-c.1605] (Annals) comedy · Prince Henry's Men T46 Swords, quarrels and valour typicality 0.83 · 494 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T46: rapier, sword, fight, gentlemen, gentleman, kicked, kill, dagger, signor, valour.
Since you'll needs fence, handle your weapon well, For if you take a yard, I'll take an ell. Reach me an ell. An ell for my Mistress. Keep the laws of the Noble Science, sir, & measure weapons with her; your yard is a plain Heathenish weapon; 'tis too short, she may give you a handful, & yet you'll not reach her. Yet I ha' the longer arm, come fall to't roundly, And spare not me (wife) for I'll lay't on soundly. If o'er husbands their wives will needs be Masters, We men will have a law to win't at wasters 'Tis for the breeches, is't not? For the breeches. Husband I am for you, I'll not strike in jest. Nor I. But will you sign to one request? What's that? Let me give the first blow. The first blow, wife, shall I? Prompt? Let her hait. If she strike hard, in to her, and break her pate. A bargain. Strike. Then guard you from this blow, For I play all at legs, but 'tis thus low. Behold, I am such a cunning Fencer grown, I keep my ground, yet down I will be thrown With the least blow you give me, I disdain The wife that is her husband's Sovereign. She that upon your pillow first did rest, They say, the breeches wore, which I detest. The tax which she imposed upon you, I abate you, If me you make your Master, I shall hate you. The world shall judge who offers fairest play; You win the breeches, but I win the day. Thou winst the day indeed, give me thy hand, I'll challenge thee no more: my patient breast played thus the Rebel, only for a jest: Here's the rank rider that breaks Colts, 'tis he Can tame the mad folks, and cursed wives. Who, your man? My man? my Master, though his head be bare, But he's so courteous, he'll put off his hair. Nay, if your service be so hot, a man cannot keep his hair on, I'll serve you no longer. Is this your Schoolmaster? Yes faith, wench, I taught him to take thee down: I hope thou canst take him down without teaching; you ha' got the conquest, and you both are friends. Bear witness else. My Prenticeship then ends. For the good service you to me have done, I give you all your years. I thank you Master. I'll kiss my Mistress now, that she may say, My man was bound, and free all in one day. From whom sayest thou? From a poor Gentlewoman, Madam, whom I serve. And what's your business? This, Madam: my poor Mistress has a waste piece of ground, which is her own by inheritance, and left to her by her mother; There's a Lord now that goes about, not to take it clean from her, but to enclose it to himself, and to join it to a piece of his Lordships.
nodes 628–681 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 17 of 47 in this edition
Length
494 words · 661 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T46 — Swords, quarrels and valourcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.833 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T42 · seed 44: T42 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Since you'll needes fence, handle your weapon well, For if you take a yard, Ile take an ell. Reach me an ell. An ell for my Mistris. Keep the lawes of the Noble Science, sir, & measure weapons with her; your yard is a plaine Heathenish weapon; 'tis too short, she may giue you a handfull, & yet you'l not reach her. Yet I ha the longer arme, come fall too't roundly, And spare not me (wife) for Ile lay't on soundly. If o're husbands their wiues will needes be Masters, We men will haue a law to win't at wasters 'Tis for the breeches, is't not? For the breeches. Husband I am for you, Ile not strike in iest. Nor I. But will you signe to one request? What's that? Let me giue the first blow. The first blow, wife, shall I? Prompt? Let her ha'te. If she strike hard, in to her, and breake her pate. A bargaine. Strike. Then guard you from this blow, For I play all at legges, but 'tis thus low. Behold, I am such a cunning Fencer growne, I keepe my ground, yet downe I will be throwne With the least blow you giue me, I disdaine The wife that is her husbands Soueraigne. She that vpon your pillow first did rest, They say, the breeches wore, which I detest. The taxe which she imposed vpon you, I abate you, If me you make your Master, I shall hate you. The world shall iudge who offers fairest play; You win the breeches, but I win the day. Thou winst the day indeed, giue me thy hand, Ile challenge thee no more: my patient brest Plaid thus the Rebell, onely for a iest: Here's the rancke rider that breakes Colts, 'tis he Can tame the mad folkes, and curst wiues. Who, your man? My man? my Master, tho his head be bare, But he's so courteous, he'll put off his haire. Nay, if your seruice be so hot, a man cannot keepe his haire on, Ile serue you no longer. Is this your Schoolemaster? Yes faith, wench, I taught him to take thee downe: I hope thou canst take him downe without teaching; you ha got the conquest, and you both are friends. Beare witnes else. My Prentiship then ends. For the good seruice you to me haue done, I giue you all your yeeres. I thanke you Master. Ile kisse my Mistris now, that she may say, My man was bound, and free all in one day. From whom saiest thou? From a poore Gentlewoman, Madam, whom I serue. And whats your businesse? This, Madam: my poore Mistris has a waste piece of ground, which is her owne by inheritance, and left to her by her mother; There's a Lord now that goes about, not to take it cleane from her, but to inclose it to himselfe, and to ioyne it to a piece of his Lordships.