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  • Title: The Honest Whore, Part 1 (Quarto 2, 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 2, 1604)

    The conuerted Courtizan.
    From fooles you get, and spend it vpon slaues:
    Like Beares and Apes, y'are bayted & shew tricks
    1135For money, but your Bawd the sweetne s s e licks.
    Indeed you are their Iourney-women, and do
    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 faire st and mo st famous Courtizan,
    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 finger) when this Idoll,
    1150From coa st to coa st, has leapt on forraine shores,
    And had more wor ship, thē th'outlandi sh whores,
    When seuerall nations haue gone ouer her,
    When for each seuerall City she has seene,
    Her maidenhead has bin new, & bin sold deare:
    1155Did liue wel there, & might haue dide vnknowne
    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 weep, 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 weep indeed.
    1165 Hip. To giue those teares a reli 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 do drowne,
    1170And bury quite in you all vertuous thoughts,