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  • Title: The Honest Whore, Part 1 (Quarto 1, 1604)
  • Editor: Joost Daalder
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-490-5

    Copyright Digital Renaissance Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Authors: Thomas Dekker, Thomas Middleton
    Editor: Joost Daalder
    Peer Reviewed

    The Honest Whore, Part 1 (Quarto 1, 1604)

    From fooles you get, and spend it vpon slaues:
    Like Beares and Apes, y'are bayted and shew tricks
    1135For money; but your Bawd the sweetne s s e licks.
    Indeed you are their Iourney-women, and doe
    All base and damnd workes they li st set you to:
    So that you n'ere are rich; for doe but shew me,
    In present memory, or in ages pa st,
    1140The fayre st and mo st famous Courtezan,
    Whose fle sh was dear' st; that raisd the price of sin,
    And held it vp; to whose intemperate bosome,
    Princes, Earles, Lords, the wor st has bin a knight,
    The mean' st a Gentleman, haue offred vp
    1145Whole Hecatombs of sighs, & raind in showres
    Handfuls of gold, yet for all this, at la st
    Diseases suckt her marrow, then grew so poore,
    That she has begd, e'ene at a beggers doore.
    And (wherin heau'n has a singer) when this Idoll,
    1150From coa st to coa st, has leapt on forrayne shores,
    And had more wor ship, thē th'outlandi sh whores:
    When seuerall Nations haue gone ouer her,
    When for eache seuerall City she has seene,
    Her Maydenhead has bin new, & bin sold deare:
    1155Did liue wel there, & might haue dyde vnknown,
    And vndefam'd; back comes she to her owne,
    And there both miserably liues and dyes,
    Scornd euen of those, that once ador'd her eyes,
    As if her fatall-circled life, thus ranne,
    1160Her pride should end there, where it fir st began.
    What do you weepe to heare your Story read?
    Nay, if you spoyle your cheeks, Ile read no more.
    Bel. O yes, I pray proceed:
    Indeed 'twill do me good to weepe indeed.
    1165 Hip. To giue those teares a relli sh, this I adde,
    Y'are like the Iewes, scatterd, in no place certain,
    Your daies are tedious, your houres burdensome:
    And wer't not for full suppers, midnight Reuels,
    Dauncing, wine, ryotous meetings, which doe drowne,
    1170And bury quite in you all vertuous thoughts,