2 The Honest Whore (2 The Converted Courtesan) · chunk 23 of 47
Dekker, Thomas · published 1630 · first performed or written 1605 [1604-c.1605] (Annals) comedy · Prince Henry's Men unassigned nearest T49 Wooing a mistress: suitors, go-betweens · 483 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T49: mistress, gentleman, love, lady, woman, pray, gentlewoman, hear, honest, way.
How now little chick, what ailest, weeping For a handful of tailor's shreds? pox on them, are there not silks enough at Mercers? I care not for gay feathers, I. What dost care for then? why dost grieve? Why do I grieve? A thousand sorrows strike At one poor heart, and yet it lives. Matheo, Thou art a Gamester, prithee throw at all, Set all upon one cast, we kneel and pray, And struggle for life, yet must be cast away. Meet misery quickly then, split all, sell all, And when thou hast sold all, spend it, but I beseech thee Build not thy mind on me to coin thee more, To get it wouldst thou have me play the whore? 'Twas your profession before I married you. umh? it was indeed: if all men should be branded For sins long since laid up, who could be saved? The Quarter day's at hand, how will you do To pay the Rent, Matheo? Why? do as all of our occupation do against Quarter days; break up house, remove, shift your lodgings, pox a your Quarters. Where's this Gallant? Signior Lodovico? how does my little Mirror of Knighthood? this is kindly done i'faith: welcome by my troth. And how dost, frolic? Save you fair Lady. Thou lookest smug and bravely, Noble Mat. Drink and feed, laugh and lie warm. Is this thy wife? A poor Gentlewoman, sir, whom I make use of a nights. Pay custom to your lips, sweet Lady. Borrow some shells of him, some wine, sweet heart. I'll send for't then i'faith. You send for't? Some wine I prithee. I ha' no money. 'Sblood, nor I: What wine love you, Signior? Here, or I'll not stay, I protest; trouble the Gentlewoman too much? And what news flies abroad, Matheo? Troth, none. Oh Signior, we ha' been merry in our days. And no doubt shall again. The Divine powers never shoot Darts at men Mortal, to kill them. You say true. Why should we grieve at want? Say the world made thee her Minion, that Thy head lay in her lap, and that she danced thee On her wanton knee, she could but give thee a whole World: that's all, and that all's nothing; the world's Greatest part cannot fill up one corner of thy heart. Say, the three corners were all filled, alas! Of what art thou possessed, a thin blown glass: Such as by Boys is puffed into the air. Were twenty Kingdoms thine, thou'dst live in care: Thou couldst not sleep the better, nor live longer, Nor merrier be, nor healthfuller, nor stronger. If then thou want'st, thus make that want thy pleasure, No man wants all things, nor has all in measure. I am the most wretched fellow: sure some left-handed Priest christened me, I am so unlucky: I am never out of one puddle or another, still falling.
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)
How now little chicke, what aylest, weeping For a handfull of Taylors shreds? pox on them, are there not silkes enow at Mercers? I care not for gay feathers, I. What doest care for then? why doest grieue? Why doe I grieue? A thousand sorrowes strike At one poore heart, and yet it liues. Matheo, Thou art a Gamester, prethee throw at all, Set all vpon one cast, we kneele and pray, And struggle for life, yet must be cast away. Meet misery quickly then, split all, sell all, And when thou hast sold all, spend it, but I beseech thee Build not thy mind on me to coyne thee more, To get it wouldst thou haue me play the whore? 'Twas your profession before I married you. Vmh? it was indeed: if all men should be branded For sinnes long since laid vp, who could be saued? The Quarter day's at hand, how will you doe To pay the Rent, Matheo? Why? doe as all of our occupation doe against Quarter daies; breake vp house, remoue, shift your lodgings, pox a your Quarters. Where's this Gallant? Signior Lodouico? how does my little Mirror of Knight-hood? this is kindly done yfaith: welcome by my troth. And how doest, frolicke? Saue you faire Lady. Thou lookest smug and brauely, Noble Mat. Drinke and feed, laugh and lie warme. Is this thy wife? A poore Gentlewoman, sir, whom I make vse of a nights. Pay custome to your lips, sweet Lady. Borrow some shells of him, some wine, sweet heart. Ile send for't then yfaith. You send for't? Some wine I prethee. I ha no money. S'blood, nor I: What wine loue you, Signior? Here, or Ile not stay, I protest; trouble the Gentlewoman too much? And what newes flies abroad, Matheo? Troth, none. Oh Signior, we ha beene merry in our daies. And no doubt shall agen. The Diuine powers neuer shoot Darts at men Mortall, to kill them. You say true. Why should we grieue at want? Say the world made thee her Minnion, that Thy head lay in her lap, and that she danc't thee On her wanton knee, she could but giue thee a whole World: that's all, and that all's nothing; the worlds Greatest part cannot fill vp one corner of thy heart. Say, the three corners were all filld, alas! Of what art thou possest, a thinne blowne glasse: Such as by Boyes is puft into the aire. Were twenty Kingdomes thine, thou'dst liue in care: Thou could'st not sleepe the better, nor liue longer, Nor merrier be, nor healthfuller, nor stronger. If then thou want'st, thus make that want thy pleasure, No man wants all things, nor has all in measure. I am the most wretched fellow: sure some lefthanded Priest christned me, I am so vnlucky: I am neuer out of one puddle or another, still falling.