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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 converted Curtezan.
    On womans beames I throw affection,
    Save her thats dead: or that I loosely flie
    150To'th shoare of any other wafting eie,
    Let me not prosper heaven. I will be true,
    Even to her du st and a shes: could her tombe
    Stand whil st I livde, so long that it might rot,
    That should fall downe, but she be ne're forgot.
    155 Mathaeo If you have this strange mon ster, Hone stie, in
    your belly, why so Iig-makers and chroniclers shall picke som-
    thing out of you: but and I smell not you and a bawdy house
    out within these tenne daies, let my nose be as bigge as an En-
    gli sh bag-pudding: Ile followe your lord ship, though it be to
    160the place aforenamed. Exeunt.

    Enter Fu stigo in some fanta stike Sea-suite at one
    doore, a Porter meets him at another.
    Fu st . How now porter, will she come?
    Porter If I may tru st a woman sir, she will come.
    165 Fu st . Theres for thy paines, godamercy, if ever I stand in
    neede of a wench that will come with a wet finger, Porter, thou
    shalt earne my mony before anie Clari s simo in Millane; yet so
    god sa mee shees mine owne si ster body and soule, as I am a
    chri stian Gentleman; farewell, ile ponder till shee come: thou
    170ha st bin no bawde in fetching this woman, I a s s ure thee.
    Porter No matter if I had sir, better men than Porters are
    bawdes.
    Fu st . O God sir, manie that have borne offices. But Por-
    ter, art sure thou went st into a true house?
    175 Porter I thinke so, for I met with no thieves.
    Fu st . Nay but arte sure it was my si ster Viola.
    Porter I am sure by all superscriptions it was the partie you (ciphered.
    Fu st . Not very tall.
    Porter Nor very lowe, a midling woman.
    180 Fu st . Twas she faith, twas she, a prettie plumpe cheeke like (mine.
    Porter At a blu sh, a little very much like you.
    Fu st . Gods so, I would not for a duckat she had kickt vp hir
    heeles, for I ha spent an abomination this voyage, marie I
    did it among st sailers and gentlemen: theres a little modicum

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