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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    Not Peer Reviewed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)

    Enter Bellafront and Matheo.
    Bell. Oh my sweet Husband, wert thou in thy graue, and
    art aliue agen? O welcome, welcome.
    605 Mat. Doe st know me? my cloake prethee lay't vp. Yes
    faith, my winding sheete was taken out of Lauender, to be
    stucke with Rosemary, I lackt but the knot here, or here;
    yet if I had had it, I should ha made a wry mou h at the
    world like a Playse: but sweete st villaine, I am here now, and
    610I will talke with thee soone.
    Bel. And glad am I th'art here.
    Mat. Did these heeles caper in shackles? A my little
    plumpe rogue, Ile beare vp for all this, and flye hye. Catzo
    615 Bel. Matheo?
    Mat. What saye st, what saye st? Oh braue fre sh ayre, a pox
    on these Grates and gingling of Keyes, and rattling of Iron,
    Ile beare vp, Ile flye hye wench, hang To s s e.
    Bel. Matheo, prethee make thy prison thy gla s s e,
    620And in it view the wrinkles, and the scarres,
    By which thou wert disfigured, viewing them, mend them.
    Mat. Ile goe vi sit all the mad rogues now, and the good
    roaring boyes.
    Bel. Thou doe st not heare me?
    625 Mat. Yes faith doe I.
    Bel. Thou ha st beene in the hands of misery, and tane strong
    Phy sicke, prethee now be sound.
    Mat. Yes. S'foot, I wonder how the in side of a Tauerne
    lookes now. Oh when shall I bizle, bizle?
    630 Bel. Nay see, th'art thir sty still for poyson, come, I will
    not haue thee swagger.
    Mat. Hone st Apes face.
    Bel. 'Tis that sharpned an axe to cut thy throate.
    Good Loue, I would not haue thee sell thy sub stance
    635And time (worth all) in those damned shops of Hell;
    Those Dycing houses, that stand neuer well,
    But when they stand mo st ill, that foure-squared sinne
    Has almo st lodg'd vs in the beggers Inne.
    Be sides (to speake which euen my soule does grieue)
    640A sort of Rauens haue hung vpon thy sleeue,
    And fed vpon thee: good Mat. (if you please) so base as
    Scorne to spread wing among st these;
    By them thy fame is speckled, yet it showes
    Cleare among st them; so Crowes are faire with Crowes.
    645Cu stome in sinne, giues sinne a louely dye.
    Blackne s s e in Mores is no deformity.
    Mat. Bellafront, Bellafront, I prote st to thee, I sweare, as I
    hope my soule, I will turne ouer a new leafe, the prison I confe s s e has bit me, the be st man that sayles in such a Ship, 650may be lowsy.
    Bel. One knockes at doore.
    Mat. Ile be the Porter: they shall see, a Iayle cannot hold
    a braue spirit, Ile flye hye. Exit.
    Bel. How wilde is his behauiour! oh, I feare
    655He's spoyld by prison, he's halfe damned comes there,
    But I mu st sit all stormes: when a full sayle his
    Fortunes spred, he loued me: being now poore,
    Ile beg for him, and no wife can doe more.
    Enter Matheo, and Orlando like a Seruingman.
    660 Mat. Come in pray, would you speake with me, sir?
    Orl. Is your name Signior Matheo?
    Mat. My name is Signior Matheo.
    Orl. Is this Gentlewoman your wife, sir?
    Mat. This Gentlewoman is my wife, sir.
    665 Orl. The De stinies spin a strong and euen thread of both
    your loues: the Mothers owne face, I ha not forgot that, I'm
    an old man, sir, & am troubled with a whoreson salt rhewme,
    that I cannot hold my water. Gentlewoman, the la st man I
    serued was your Father.
    670 Bel. My Father? any tongue that sounds his name,
    Speakes Mu sicke to me: welcome good old man.
    How does my father? liues he? has he health?
    How does my father? I so much doe shame him,
    So much doe wound him, that I scarce dare name him.
    675 Orl. I can speake no more.
    Mat. How now old Lad, what doe st cry?
    Orl The rhewme still, sir, nothing else; I should be well
    seasond, for mine eyes lye in brine: looke you, sir, I haue a suite to you.
    680 Math. What is't my little white pate?
    Orl. Troth, sir, I haue a mind to serue your Wor ship.
    Mat. To serue me? Troth, my friend, my fortunes are, as
    a man may say----
    Orl. Nay looke you, sir, I know when all sinnes are old
    685in vs, and goe vpon Crutches, that Couetousne s s e does but
    then lie in her Cradle; 'Tis not so with me. Letchery loues
    to dwell in the faire st lodging, and Couetousne s s e in the olde st buildings, that are ready to fall: but my white head,
    sir, is no Inne for such a go s sip. If a Seruingman at my yeeres
    690be not stored with bisket enough, that has sayled about the
    world to serue him the voyage out of his life, and to bring
    him Ea st-home; Ill pitty but all his daies should be fa sting daies: I care not so much for wages, for I haue scraped a
    handfull of gold together; I haue a little money, sir, which
    695I would put into your Wor ships hands, not so much to
    make it more.
    Mat. No, no, you say well, thou saye st well; but I mu st
    tell you: How much is the money, saye st thou?
    Orl. About twenty pound, Sir.
    700 Mat. Twenty pound? Let me see: that shall bring thee in,
    after ten per centum, per annum.
    Orl. No, no, no, sir, no; I cannot abide to haue money in-
    gender: fye vpon this siluer Lechery, fye; if I may haue
    meat to my mouth, and rags to my backe, and a flock-bed
    705to snort vpon, when I die, the longer liuer take all.
    Mat. A good old Boy, yfaith, if thou serue st me, thou shalt
    eat as I eat, drinke as I drinke, lye as I lye, and ride as I ride.
    Orl. That's if you haue money to hire horses.
    Mat. Front. What doe st thou thinke on't? This good old
    710Lad here shall serue me.
    Bel. Alas, Matheo, wilt thou load a backe
    That is already broke?
    Mat. Peace, pox on you, peace, there's a tricke in't, I
    flye hye, it shall be so, Front. as I tell you: giue me thy hand,
    715thou shalt serue me yfaith: welcome: as for your money--
    Orl. Nay, looke you sir, I haue it here.
    Mat. Pe sh, keepe it thy selfe, man, and then th'art sure 'tis
    Orl. Safe! and 'twere ten thousand Duckets, your Wor ship
    720 should be my ca sh-keeper; I haue heard what your Wor-
    ship is, an excellent dunghill Cocke, to scatter all abroad:
    but Ile venture twenty pounds on's head.
    Mat. And did' st thou serue my Wor shipfull Father-in-
    law, Signior Orlando Friscabaldo, that mad man once?
    725 Orl. I serued him so long, till he turned me out of doores.
    Mat. It's a notable Chuffe, I ha not seene him many a day.
    Orl. No matter and you ne'r see him: it's an arrant Gran-
    dy, a Churle, and as damnd a cut-throat.
    Bel. Thou villaine, curb thy tongue, thou art a Iudas,
    730To sell thy Ma sters name to slander thus.
    Mat. Away A s s e, he speakes but truth, thy father is a--
    Bel. Gentleman.
    Mat. And an old knaue, there's more deceit in him then
    in sixteene Poticaries: it's a Deuill, thou mai st beg, starue,
    735hang, damne; does he send thee so much as a cheese?
    Orl. Or so much as a Gammon of Bacon,
    Hee'll giue it his Dogs fir st.
    Mat. A Iayle, a Iayle.
    Orl. A Iew, a Iew, sir.
    740 Mat. A Dog.
    Orl. An Engli sh Ma stiffe, sir.
    Mat. Pox rot out his old stinking garbage.
    Bel. Art not a shamed to strike an absent man thus?
    Art not a shamed to let this vild Dog barke,
    745And bite my Father thus? Ile not indure it;
    Out of my doores, base slaue.
    Mat. Your dores! a vengeance? I shall liue to cut that old
    rogues throat, for all you take his part thus.
    Orl. He shall liue to see thee hangd fir st.
    750 Enter Hipollito.
    Mat. Gods so my Lord, your Lord ship is mo st welcome,
    I'm proud of this, my Lord.
    Hip. Was bold to see you.
    Is that your wife?
    755 Mat. Yes sir.
    Hip. Ile borrow her lip.
    Mat. With all my heart, my Lord.
    Orl. Who's this, I pray sir?
    Mat. My Lord Hipollito: what's thy name?
    760 Orl. Pacheco.
    Mat. Pacheco, fine name; Thou see st, Pacheco, I keepe
    company with no Scondrels, nor base fellowes.
    Hip. Came not my Footman to you?
    Bel. Yes my Lord.
    765 Hip. I sent by him a Diamond and a Letter,
    Did you receiue them?
    Bel. Yes my Lord, I did.
    Hip. Read you the letter?
    Bel. O're and o're 'tis read.
    770 Hip. And faith your answer?
    Bel. Now the time's not fit,
    You see, my Husbands here.
    Hip. Ile now then leaue you,
    And choose mine houre; but ere I part away,
    775Harke, you remember I mu st haue no nay.
    Matheo, I will leaue you.
    Mat. A gla s s e of wine.
    Hip. Not now, Ile vi sit you at other times.
    Y'are come off well then?
    780 Mat. Excellent well, I thanke your Lord ship: I owe you
    my life, my Lord; and will pay my be st blood in any seruice
    of yours.
    Hip. Ile take no such deare payment, harke you Matheo,
    I know, the prison is a gulfe, if money runne low with you,
    785my purse is yours: call for it.
    Mat. Faith my Lord, I thanke my starres, they send me
    downe some; I cannot sinke, so long as these bladders hold.
    Hip. I will not see your fortunes ebbe, pray try.
    To starue in full barnes were fond mode sty.
    790 Mat. Open the doore, sirra.
    Hip. Drinke this, and anon I pray thee giue thy Mi stris
    this. Exit.
    Orl. O Noble Spirit, if no worse gue sts here dwell,
    My blue coate sits on my old shoulders well.
    795 Mat. The onely royall fellow, he's bounteous as the Indies,
    what's that he said to thee, Bellafront?
    Bel. Nothing.
    Mat. I prethee good Girle?
    Bel. Why I tell you nothing.
    800 Mat. Nothing? it's well: trickes, that I mu st be behol-
    den to a scald hot-liuerd goti sh Gallant, to stand with my
    cap in my hand, and vaile bonnet, when I ha spred as lofty
    sayles as himselfe, wud I had beene hanged. Nothing? Pa-
    checo, bru sh my cloake.
    805 Orl. Where is't, sir?
    Mat. Come, wee'll flye hye.
    Nothing? there is a whore still in thine eye. Exit.
    Orl. My twenty pounds flyes high, O wretched woman,
    This varlot's able to make Lucrece common.
    810How now Mi stris? has my Ma ster dyed you into this sad
    Bel. Fellow, be gone I pray thee; if thy tongue itch after
    talke so much, seeke out thy Ma ster, th'art a fit in strument
    for him.
    815 Orl. Zownes, I hope he will not play vpon me?
    Bel. Play on thee? no, you two will flye together,
    Because you are rouing arrowes of one feather.
    Would thou would st leaue my house, thou ne'r shalt
    Please, me weaue thy nets ne'r so hye,
    820Thou shalt be but a spider in mine eye.
    Th'art ranke with poyson, poyson temperd well,
    Is food for health; but thy blacke tongue doth swell
    With venome, to hurt him that gaue thee bread,
    To wrong men absent, is to spurne the dead.
    825And so did' st thou thy Ma ster, and my Father.
    Orl. You haue small reason to take his part; for I haue
    heard him say fiue hundred times, you were as arrant a
    whore as euer stiffned tiffany neckcloathes in water- starch
    vpon a Saturday 'ith afternoone.
    830 Bel. Let him say worse, when for the earths offence
    Hot vengeance through the marble cloudes is driuen,
    Is't fit earth shoot agen those darts at heauen?
    Orl. And so if your Father call you whore, you'll not call
    him old knaue: Friscabaldo, she carries thy mind vp and
    835downe; she's thine owne fle sh, blood, and bone; troth Mi-
    stris, to tell you true, the fireworkes that ran from me vpon
    lines again st my good old Ma ster, your father, were but to
    try how my young Ma ster, your Husband loued such squibs:
    but it's well knowne, I loue your father as my selfe; Ile ride
    840for him at mid-night, runne for you by Owle-light; Ile dye
    for him, drudge for you; Ile flye low, and Ile flye hye (as
    my Ma ster saies) to doe you good, if you'll forgiue me.
    Bel. I am not made of marble: I forgiue thee.
    Orl. Nay, if you were made of marble, a good Stone-
    845cutter might cut you: I hope the twenty pound I deliuered
    to my Ma ster, is in a sure hand.
    Bel. In a sure hand I warrant thee for spending.
    Orl. I see my yong Ma ster is a madcap, and a bonus socius,
    I loue him well, Mi stris: yet as well as I loue him, Ile not
    850play the knaue with you; looke you, I could cheat you of
    this purse full of money; but I am an old Lad, and I scorne
    to cunny-catch: yet I ha beene Dog at a Cony in my time.
    Bel. A purse, where had st it?
    Orl. The Gentleman that went away, whisperd in mine
    855eare, and charged me to giue it you.
    Bel. The Lord Hipollito?
    Orla. Yes, if he be a Lord, he gaue it me.
    Bel. 'Tis all gold.
    Orl. 'Tis like so: it may be, he thinkes you want money,
    860and therefore be stowes his almes brauely, like a Lord.
    Bel. He thinkes a siluer net can catch the poore,
    Here's baite to choake a Nun, and turne her whore.
    Wilt thou be hone st to me?
    Orl. As your nailes to your fingers, which I thinke ne-
    865uer deceiued you.
    Bel. Thou to this Lord shalt goe, commend me to him,
    And tell him this, the Towne has held out long,
    Because (within) 'twas rather true, then strong.
    To sell it now were base; Say 'tis no hold
    870Built of weake stuffe, to be blowne vp with gold.
    He shall beleeue thee by this token, or this; if not, by this.
    Orla. Is this all?
    Bel. This is all.
    Orl. Mine owne Girle still.
    875 Bel. A Starre may shoote, not fall. Exit Bellafront.
    Orl. A Starre? nay, thou art more then the moone, for
    thou ha st neither changing quarters, nor a man standing in
    thy circle with a bu sh of thornes. Is't po s sible the Lord Hipollito, whose face is as ciuill as the out side of a Dedicato-
    880ry Booke, should be a Muttonmunger? A poore man has
    but one Ewe, and this Grandy Sheepe-biter leaues whole
    Flockes of fat Weathers (whom he may knocke downe)
    to deuoure this. Ile tru st neither Lord nor Butcher with
    quicke fle sh for this tricke; the Cuckoo I see now sings all
    885the yeere, though euery man cannot heare him, but Ile
    spoyle his notes; can neither Loue-letters, nor the Deuils
    common Pick-lockes (Gold) nor Precious Stones make my
    Girle draw vp her Percullis: hold out still, wench.
    All are not Bawds (I see now) that keepe doores,
    890Nor all good wenches that are markt for Whores. Exit.