2 The Honest Whore (2 The Converted Courtesan) · chunk 35 of 47
Dekker, Thomas · published 1630 · first performed or written 1605 [1604-c.1605] (Annals) comedy · Prince Henry's Men unassigned nearest T23 Husbands, wives and jealousy · 489 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T23: wife, husband, cuckold, jealousy, woman, jealous, mistress, love, house, honest.
Troth my Lord, I think we are all as you ha' been in your youth when you went a-Maying, we all love to hear the Cuckoo sing upon other men's Trees. It's well yet you confess: but Girl, thy bed Shall not be parted with a Courtesan— 'tis strange, No frown of mine, no frown of the poor Lady, (My abused child, his wife) no care of fame, Of Honour, Heaven or Hell, no not that name Of Common Strumpet, can affright, or woo Him to abandon her; the Harlot does undo him, She has bewitched him, robbed him of his shape, Turned him into a beast, his reason's lost, You see he looks wild, does he not? I ha' noted new Moons In's face, my Lord, all full of change. He's no more life unto Hipollito, Then dead men are to living— never sleeps, Or if he do, it's dreams; and in those dreams His arms work,— and then cries— Sweet— what's her Name, what's the drabs name? In troth, my Lord, I know not, I know no drabs, not I. Oh, Bellafront! And catching her fast, cries, My Bellafront. A drench that's able to kill a Horse, cannot kill this disease of Smock-smelling, my Lord, if it have once eaten deep. I'll try all Physic, and this Medicine first: I have directed Warrants strong and peremptory (To purge our City Milan, and to cure the outward Parts, the Suburbs) for the attaching Of all those women, who (like gold) want weight, cities (like Ships) should have no idle freight. No, my Lord, and light wenches are no idle freight, But what's your grace's reach in this? This (Carolo.) If she whom my Son dotes on, Be in that Master-book enrolled, he'll shame Ever t' approach one of such noted name. But say she be not? Yet on harlot's heads New Laws shall fall so heavy, and such blows shall Give to those that haunt them, that Hipollito (If not for fear of Law) for love to her, If he love truly, shall her bed forbear. Attach all the light heels i'th' City, and clap 'em up? why, my Lord? you dive into a Well unsearchable: all the Whores within the walls, & without the walls? I would not be he should meddle with them for ten such Dukedoms; the Army that you speak on, is able to fill all the prisons within this City, and to leave not a drinking room in any Tavern beside. Those only shall be caught that are of note, Harlots in each street flow: The fish being thus i'th' net, ourself will sit, And with eye most severe dispose of it.— come, Girl. arraign the poor Whore. I'll not miss that Sessions. Nor I. Nor I, Though I hold up my hand there myself. Let who will come (my Noble Chevalier) I can but play the kind Host, and bid 'em welcome.
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)
Troth my Lord, I thinke we are all as you ha bin in your youth when you went a Maying, we all loue to heare the Cuckoo sing vpon other mens Trees. It's well yet you confesse: but Girle, thy bed Shall not be parted with a Curtizan—'tis strange, No frowne of mine, no frowne of the poore Lady, (My abused child, his wife) no care of fame, Of Honor, Heauen or Hell, no not that name Of Common Strumpet, can affright, or woo Him to abandon her; the Harlot does vndoe him, She has bewitched him, robd him of his shape, Turnd him into a beast, his reason's lost, You see he lookes wild, does he not? I ha noted new Moones In's face, my Lord, all full of change. He's no more life vnto Hipollito, Then dead men are to liuing—neuer sleepes, Or if he doe, it's dreames; and in those dreames His armes worke,—and then cries—Sweet—what's her Name, what's the drabs name? In troth, my Lord, I know not, I know no drabs, not I. Oh, Bellafront! And catching her fast, cries, My Bellafront. A drench that's able to kill a Horse, cannot kill this disease of Smock-smelling, my Lord, if it haue once eaten deepe. Ile try all Phisicke, and this Med'cine first: I haue directed Warrants strong and peremptory (To purge our Citty Millan, and to cure the outward Parts, the Suburbes) for the attaching Of all those women, who (like gold) want waight, Citties (like Ships) should haue no idle fraight. No, my Lord, and light wenches are no idle fraight, But what's your Graces reach in this? This (Carolo.) If she whom my Son doates on, Be in that Master-booke enrold, he'll shame Euer t' approach one of such noted name. But say she be not? Yet on Harlots heads New Lawes shall fall so heauy, and such blowes shall Giue to those that haunt them, that Hipollito (If not for feare of Law) for loue to her, If he loue truely, shall her bed forbeare. Attach all the light heeles i'th Citty, and clap em vp? why, my Lord? you diue into a Well vnsearchable: all the Whores within the walls, & without the walls? I would not be he should meddle with them for ten such Dukedomes; the Army that you speake on, is able to fill all the prisons within this Citty, and to leaue not a drinking roome in any Tauerne besides. Those onely shall be caught that are of note, Harlots in each street flow: The fish being thus i'th net, our selfe will sit, And with eye most seuere dispose of it.—come, Girle. Araigne the poore Whore. Ile not misse that Sessions. Nor I. Nor I, Tho I hold vp my hand there my selfe. Let who will come (my Noble Shauileir) I can but play the kind Hoast, and bid vm welcome.