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  • 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    Not Peer Reviewed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.
    Orl. In your house? wud I had bin by.
    Mat. I made no more adoe, but fell to my old locke, and
    1845 so thra shed my blue Coates, and old crabtree-face my fa-
    ther-in-law, and then walkt like a Lion in my grate.
    Orl. Oh Noble Ma ster!
    Mat. Sirra, he could tell me of the robbing the two
    Pedlers, and that warrants are out for vs both.
    1850 Orl. Good, sir, I like not those crackers.
    Mat. Crack halter, wut set thy foot to mine?
    Orl. How, sir? at drinking.
    Mat. We'll pull that old Crow my Father: rob thy Ma-
    ster. I know the house, thou the seruants: the purchase is
    1855rich, the plot to get it ea sie, the Dog will not part from a
    bone.
    Orl. Pluck't out of his throat then: Ile snarle for one, if
    this can bite.
    Mat. Say no more, say no more, old cole, meet me anon at
    1860the signe of the Shipwracke.
    Orl. Yes, sir.
    Mat. And do st heare, man?-- the Shipwracke. Exit.
    Orl. Th'art at the Shipwracke now, and like a swimmer
    Bold (but vnexpert) with those waues doe st play,
    1865Whose dalliance (whorelike) is to ca st thee away.

    Enter Hipollito and Bellafront.
    Orl. And here's another Ve s s ell, (better fraught,
    But as ill man'd) her sinking will be wraught,
    If rescue come not: like a Man of warre
    1870Ile therefore brauely out: somewhat Ile doe,
    And either saue them both, or peri sh too. Exit.
    Hip. It is my fate to be bewitched by those eyes.
    Bel. Fate? your folly.
    Why should my face thus mad you? 'las, those colours
    1875Are wound vp long agoe, which beauty spred,
    The flowres that once grew here, are withered.
    You turn'd my blacke soule white, made it looke new,
    And should I sinne, it ne'r should be with you.
    Hip.