Digital Renaissance Editions

About this text

  • 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.
    And hate all men, their gifts and company.
    1590Enter Matheo, Castruchio, Fluello, and Pioratto.
    Mat. You, goody Punck, subandi Cockatrice, O yare a
    sweet whore of your promise, are you not think you? how
    wel you came to supper to vs last night: mew, a whore &
    breake her word! nay you may blush, & hold downe your
    1595head at it wel ynough: Sfoot, aske these gallants if we staid
    not till we were as hungry as Seriants.
    Flu. I, and their Yeoman too.
    Cast. Nay fayth Acquaintance, let me tell you, you forgat
    your selfe too much: we had excellēt cheere, rare vintage,
    1600and were drunke after supper.
    Pior. And when wee were in our Woodcocks (sweete
    Rogue) a brace of Gulles, dwelling here in the City, came
    in & payd all the shot. Mat. Pox on her, let her alone.
    Bel. O, I pray doe, if you be Gentlemen:
    1605I pray depart the house; beshrew the dore
    For being so easily entreated: fayth,
    I lent but little eare vnto your talke,
    My mind was busied otherwise in troth,
    And so your words did vnregarded passe:
    1610Let this suffice, I am not as I was.
    Flu. I am not what I was! no Ile be sworne thou art not:
    for thou wert honest at fiue, & now th'art a Puncke at fif-
    teene: thou wert yesterday a simple whore, and now thart
    a cunning Conny catching Baggage to day.
    1615Bel. Ile say Ime worse, I pray forsake me then,
    I doe desire you leaue me, Gentlemen,
    And leaue your selues: O be not what you are,
    (Spendthrifts of soule and body)
    Let me perswade you to forsake all Harlots,
    1620Worse then the deadliest poisons, they are worse:
    For o're their soules hangs an eternall curse,
    In being slaue to slaues, their labours perish,
    Th'are seldome blest with fruit; for e're it blossom,
    Many a worme confounds it.
    1625They haue no issue but foule vgly ones,
    That run along with them, e'ene to their graues:
    For stead of children, they breed ranke diseases,
    F 3 And