Digital Renaissance Editions

Become a FriendSign in

About this text

  • Title: The Honest Whore, Part 2 (Quarto 1, 1630)
  • 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.
    Author: Thomas Dekker
    Editor: Joost Daalder
    Not Peer Reviewed

    The Honest Whore, Part 2 (Quarto 1, 1630)

    The Hone st Whore.
    Lod. A word with you: doe ye heare? This wench (your
    new wife) will take you downe in your wedding shooes,
    vnle s s e you hang her vp in her wedding garters.
    Cand. How, hang her in her garters?
    570 Lod. Will you be a rame Pidgeon still? shall your backe
    be like a Tortoys shell, to let Carts goe ouer it, yet not to
    breake? This Shee-cat will haue more liues then your la st
    Pu s s e had, and will scratch worse, and mouze you worse:
    looke toot.
    575 Cand. What would you haue me doe, sir?
    Lod. What would I haue you doe? Sweare, swagger,
    brawle, fling; for fighting it's no matter, we ha had knocking
    Pu s s es enow already; you know, that a woman was made of
    the rib of a man, and that rib was crooked. The Morall of
    580which is, that a man mu st from his beginning be crooked
    to his wife; be you like an Orāge to her, let her cut you neuer
    so faire, be you sowre as vineger; will you be ruled by me?
    Cand. In any thing that's ciuill, hone st, and iu st.
    Lod. Haue you euer a Prentices suite will fit me?
    585 Cand. I haue the very same which my selfe wore.
    Lod. Ile send my man for't within this halfe houre, and
    within this two houres Ile be your Prentice: the Hen shall
    not ouercrow the Cocke, Ile sharpen your spurres.
    Cand. It will be but some ie st, sir.
    590 Lod. Onely a ie st: farewell, come Carolo. Exeunt.
    Omnes. Wee'll take our leaues, Sir, too.
    Cand. Pray conceite not ill of my wiues sodaine ri sing.
    This young Knight, Sir Lodouico, is deepe seene in Phi sicke,
    and he tells me, the disease call'd the Mother, hangs on my
    595wife, it is a vehement heauing and beating of the Stomacke,
    and that swelling did with the paine thereof crampe vp her
    arme, that hit his lips, and brake the gla s s e: no harme, it was
    no harme.
    Omnes. No, Signior, none at all.
    600 Cand. The straighte st arrow may flye wide by chance.
    But come, we'll cloze this brawle vp in some dance. Exeunt.

    Enter
    C 2