2 The Honest Whore (2 The Converted Courtesan) · chunk 46 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 · 471 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T47: knave, rogue, money, knaves, thief, rogues, pray, whore, nichol, book.
And what were you the whilst? marry hang you, Master Slave, who made you an examiner? Well said, belike this Devil spares no man. What art thou prithee? Nay what art thou prithee? A Whore, art thou a Thief? A Thief, no, I defy the calling, I am a Soldier, have borne Arms in the Field, been in many a hot Skirmish, yet come off sound. Sound with a pox to ye, ye abominable Rogue! you a Soldier? you in Skirmishes? where? amongst pottle pots in a Bawdy-house? Look, look here, you Madam Wormeaten, do not you know him? Lieutenant Bots, where have ye been this many a day? Old Bawd, do not discredit me, seem not to know me. Not to know ye, Master Bots? as long as I have breath, I cannot forget thy sweet face. Why, do you know him? he says he is a Soldier. He a Soldier? a Pander, a Dog that will lick up six pence: do ye hear, you Master Swine's snout, how long is't since you held the door for me, and cried to't again, nobody comes, ye Rogue you? Ha, ha, ha, y'are smelled out again, Bots. Pox ruin her nose for't, and I be not revenged for this— 'em ye Bitch. D'ee ye hear ye Madam? why does your Ladyship swagger thus? y'are very brave, methinks. Not at your cost, Master cods-head, Is any man here blear-eyed to see me brave? Yes, I am, Because good Clothes upon a whore's back Is like fair painting upon a rotten wall. marry muff Master Whoremaster, you come upon me with sentences. By this light has small sense for't. O fie, fie, do not vex her. And yet methinks a creature of more scurvy conditions Should not know what a good Petticoat were. marry come out, Y'are so busy about my Petticoat, you'll creep up to my placket, and ye could but attain the honour, but and the outsides offend your Rogueships, look o'the lining, 'tis Silk. Is't Silk 'tis lined with then? Silk? I Silk, Master Slave, you would be glad to wipe your nose with the skirt on't: this 'tis to come among a company of codsheads that know not how to use a Gentlewoman. Tell her the Duke is here. Be modest, Kata, the Duke is here. If the Devil were here, I care not: set forward, ye Rogues, and give attendance according to your places, let Bawds and Whores be sad, for I'll sing and the Devil were a dying. Why before her does the Basin ring? It is an emblem of their revelling, The whips we use let's forth their wanton blood, Making them calm, and more to calm their pride, In stead of Coaches they in Carts do ride. Will your Grace see more of this bad Ware?
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)
And what were you the whilest? Mary hang you, Master Slaue, who made you an examiner? Well said, belike this Deuill spares no man. What art thou prethee? Nay what art thou prethee? A Whore, art thou a Thiefe? A Thiefe, no, I defie the calling, I am a Soldier, haue borne Armes in the Field, beene in many a hot Skyrmish, yet come off sound. Sound with a pox to yee, yee abominable Rogue! you a Soldier? you in Skirmishes? where? amongst pottle pots in a Bawdy-house? Looke, looke here, you Madam Wormeaten, doe not you know him? Lieutenant Bots, where haue yee beene this many a day? Old Bawd, doe not discredit me, seeme not to know me. Not to know yee, Master Bots? as long as I haue breath, I cannot forget thy sweet face. Why, doe you know him? he saies he is a Soldier. He a Soldier? a Pander, a Dog that will licke vp sixe pence: doe yee heare, you Master Swines snout, how long is't since you held the doore for me, and cried too't agen, no body comes, yee Rogue you? Ha, ha, ha, y'are smelt out agen, Bots. Pox ruyne her nose for't, and I be not reuenged for this—vm yee Bitch. Dee yee heare yee Madam? why does your Ladiship swagger thus? y'are very braue, me thinkes. Not at your cost, Master Cods-head, Is any man here bleare-eyed to see me braue? Yes, I am, Because good Cloathes vpon a Whores backe Is like faire painting vpon a rotten wall. Mary muffe Master Whoremaster, you come vpon me with sentences. By this light has small sence for't. O fie, fie, doe not vex her. And yet me thinkes a creature of more scuruy conditions Should not know what a good Petticoate were. Mary come out, Y'are so busie about my Petticoate, you'll creepe vp to my placket, and yee cood but attaine the honour, but and the outsides offend your Rogueships, looke o'the lining, 'tis Silke. Is't Silke 'tis lined with then? Silke? I Silke, Master Slaue, you wud bee glad to wipe your nose with the skirt on't: this 'tis to come among a company of Cods-heads that know not how to vse a Gentlewoman. Tell her the Duke is here. Be modest, Kata, the Duke is here. If the Deuill were here, I care not: set forward, yee Rogues, and giue attendance according to your places, let Bawds and Whores be sad, for Ile sing and the Deuill were a dying. Why before her does the Bason ring? It is an emblem of their reuelling, The whips we vse lets forth their wanton blood, Making them calme, and more to calme their pride, In stead of Coaches they in Carts doe ride. Will your Grace see more of this bad Ware?