2 The Honest Whore (2 The Converted Courtesan) · chunk 24 of 47
Dekker, Thomas · published 1630 · first performed or written 1605 [1604-c.1605] (Annals) comedy · Prince Henry's Men T6 Money, debt and credit typicality 0.85 · 491 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T6: money, master, pound, law, lawyer, chain, gentleman, gold, pay, pray.
Fill out wine to my little finger. With my heart i'faith. Thanks, good Matheo. To your own sweet self. All the broker's hearts, sir, are made of flint, I can with all my knocking, strike but six sparks of fire out of them, here's six ducats, if you'll take them. Give me them: an evil conscience gnaw them all, moths and plagues hang upon their lousy wardrobes. Is this your man, Matheo? An old Servingman. You may give me tother halfe too, sir: That's the Beggar. What haste there, gold? A sort of Rascals are in my debt, (God knows what) and they feed me with bits, with crumbs, a pox choke them. A word, Matheo: be not angry with me, Believe it that I know the touch of time, And can part copper (though it be gilded o'er) From the true gold: the sails which thou dost spread, Would show well, if they were not borrowed. The sound of thy low fortunes drew me hither, I give myself unto thee, prithee use me, I will bestow on you a suit of Satin, And all things else to fit a Gentleman, Because I love you. Thanks, good Noble Knight. Call on me when you please, Till then farewell. Hast angled? hast cut up this fresh Salmon? Wouldst have me be so base? It's base to steal, it's base to be a whore: thou'lt be more base, I'll make thee keep a door. I hope he will not sneak away with all the money, will he? Thou seest he does. Nay then it's well. I set my brains upon an upright Last; though my wits be old, yet they are like a withered pippin, wholesome. Look you, Mistress, I told him I had but six ducats of the (Knave) Broker, but I had eight, and kept these two for you. Thou shouldst have given him all. What, to fly high? Like waves, my misery drives on misery. Sell his wife's clothes from her back? does any poulterer's wife pull chickens alive? He Riots all abroad, wants all at home; he Dices, whores, swaggers, swears, cheats, borrows, pawns: I'll give him hook and line, a little more for all this. Yet sure i'th' end he'll delude all my hopes, And show me a French trick danced on the ropes. Hist, hist, Lieutenant Bots, how dost, man? Whither are you ambling, Madam horseleech? About worldly profit, sir: how do your Worships? We want tools, Gentlemen, to furnish the trade: they wear out day and night, they wear out till no mettle be left in their back; we hear of two or three new Wenches are come up with a Carrier, and your old Goshawk here is flying at them. And faith, what flesh have you at home? Ordinary Dishes, by my troth, sweet men, there's few good i'th' City; I am as well furnished as any, and though I say it, as well customed.
nodes 937–979 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 24 of 47 in this edition
Length
491 words · 699 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T6 — Money, debt and creditcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.850 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T9 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Fill out wine to my little finger. With my heart yfaith. Thankes, good Matheo. To your owne sweet selfe. All the Brokers hearts, sir, are made of flint, I can with all my knocking, strike but sixe sparkes of fire out of them, here's sixe duckets, if youle take them. Giue me them: an euill conscience gnaw them all, moths and plagues hang vpon their lowsie wardrobs. Is this your man, Matheo? An old Seruingman. You may giue me t'other halfe too, sir: That's the Begger. What hast there, gold? A sort of Rascalls are in my debt, (God knowes what) and they feed me with bits, with crummes, a pox choke them. A word, Matheo: be not angry with me, Beleeue it that I know the touch of time, And can part copper (tho it be gilded o're) From the true gold: the sailes which thou doest spread, Would show well, if they were not borrowed. The sound of thy low fortunes drew me hither, I giue my selfe vnto thee, prethee vse me, I will bestow on you a suite of Sattin, And all things else to fit a Gentleman, Because I loue you. Thankes, good Noble Knight. Call on me when you please, Till then farewell. Hast angled? hast cut vp this fresh Salmon? Wudst haue me be so base? It's base to steale, it's base to be a whore: Thou't be more base, Ile make thee keepe a doore. I hope he will not sneake away with all the money, will he? Thou seest he does. Nay then it's well. I set my braines vpon an vpright Last; tho my wits be old, yet they are like a witherd pippin, wholsome. Looke you, Mistris, I told him I had but sixe duckets of the (Knaue) Broker, but I had eight, and kept these two for you. Thou shouldst haue giuen him all. What, to flie hie? Like waues, my misery driues on misery. Sell his wiues cloathes from her backe? does any Poulterers wife pull chickins aliue? He Riots all abroad, wants all at home; he Dices, whores, swaggers, sweares, cheates, borrowes, pawnes: Ile giue him hooke and line, a little more for all this. Yet sure i'th end he'll delude all my hopes, And shew me a French tricke danc'd on the ropes. Hist, hist, Lieutenant Bots, how do'st, man? Whither are you ambling, Madam Horsleach? About worldly profit, sir: how doe your Worships? We want tooles, Gentlemen, to furnish the trade: they weare out day and night, they weare out till no mettle bee left in their backe; wee heare of two or three new Wenches are come vp with a Carrier, and your old Goshawke here is flying at them. And faith, what flesh haue you at home? Ordinary Dishes, by my troth, sweet men, there's few good i'th Cittie; I am as well furnisht as any, and tho I say it, as well custom'd.