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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    Not Peer Reviewed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 Candido, Lodouico like a Prentice.
    Lod. Come, come, come, what doe yee lacke, sir? what
    doe ye lacke, sir? what is't ye lacke, sir? is not my Wor ship
    well suited? did you euer see a Gentleman better disguised?
    895 Cand. Neuer, beleeue me, Signior.
    Lod. Yes: but when he has bin drunke, there be Prenti-
    ces would make mad Gallants, for they would spend all, and
    drinke, and whore, and so forth; and I see we Gallants could
    make mad Prentices. How does thy wife like me? Nay, I
    900mu st not be so sawcy, then I spoyle all: pray you how does
    my Mi stris like me?
    Cand. Well: for she takes you for a very simple fellow.
    Lod. And they that are taken for such, are commonly
    the arrante st knaues: but to our Comedy, come.
    905 Cand. I shall not act it, chide you say, and fret,
    And grow impatient: I shall neuer doo't.
    Lod. S'blood, cannot you doe as all the world does?
    Cand. Were I a Painter, that should liue by drawing no-
    910thing but Pictures of an angry man, I should not earne my
    colours; I cannot doo't.
    Lod. Remember y'are a Linnen Draper, and that if you
    giue your wife a yard, she'll take an ell: giue her not there-
    fore a quarter of your yard, not a nayle.
    915 Cand. Say I should turne to Ice, and nip her loue now 'tis
    but in the blood.
    Lod. Well, say she's nipt.
    Cand. It will so ouerchange her heart with griefe,
    That like a Cannon, when her sighes goe off,
    920She in her duty either will recoyle,
    Or breake in pieces and so dye: her death,
    By my vnkindne s s e might be counted murther.
    Lod. Dye? neuer, neuer; I doe not bid you beat her, nor
    giue her blacke eyes, nor pinch her sides: but cro s s e her
    925humours. Are not Bakers armes the skales of Iu stice? yet
    is not their bread light? and may not you I pray bridle her
    with a sharpe bit, yet ride her gently?
    Cand. Well, I will try your pills, doe you your faithfull
    seruice, and bee ready still at a pinch to helpe me in this
    930part, or else I shall be out cleane.
    Lod. Come, come, Ile prompt you.
    Cand. Ile call her forth now, shall I?
    Lod. Doe, doe, brauely.
    Cand. Luke, I pray bid your Mi stris to come hither.
    935 Lod. Luke, I pray bid your Mi stris to come hither.
    Cand. Sirra, bid my wife come to me: why, when?
    Luke. Presently, sir, she comes.--- --- within --
    Lod. La you, there's the eccho, she comes. Exit Bride.
    Bride. What is your pleasure with me?
    940 Cand. Mary wife,
    I haue intent, and (you see) this stripling here,
    He beares good will and liking to my trade,
    And meanes to deale in Linnen.
    Lod. Yes indeed, sir, I would deale in Linnen, if my Mi-
    945 stris like me so well as I like her?
    Cand. I hope to finde him hone st, pray good wife looke
    that his bed and chamber be made ready.
    Bride. Y'are be st to let him hire mee for his maide?
    I looke to his bed? looke too't your selfe.
    950 Cand. Euen so
    I sweare to you a great oath.
    Lod. Sweare, cry Zoundes.
    Cand. I will not, goe to wife, I will not.
    Lod. That your great oath?
    955 Cand. Swallow these gudgeons.
    Lod. Well said.
    Cand. Then fa st, then you may choose.
    You know at Table
    What trickes you played, swaggerd, broke gla s s es! Fie,
    960Fie, fie, fie: and now before my Prentice here
    You make an a s s e of me; thou, (what shall I call thee?)
    Bride. Euen what you will.
    Lod. Call her arrant whore.
    Cand. Oh fie, by no meanes, then she'll call me Cuckold,
    965 sirrah, goe looke to'th shop: how does this show?
    Lod. Excellent well, Ile goe looke to the shop, sir. Fine
    Cambricks, Lawnes, what doe you lacke. Exit Lodouico.
    Cand. A cur st Cowes milke I ha drunke once before,
    And 'twas so ranke in ta ste, Ile drinke no more.
    970Wife, Ile tame you.
    Bride. You may, sir, if you can,
    But at a wra stling I haue seene a fellow
    Limbd like an Oxe, throwne by a little man.
    Cand. And so you'll throw me. Reach me (Knaues) a yard.
    975 Lod. A Yard for my Ma ster.
    1. Prent. My Ma ster is growne valiant.
    Cand. Ile teach you fencing trickes.
    Omnes. Rare, rare; a prize.
    Lod. What will you doe, sir?
    980 Can. Mary, my good Prentice, nothing but breathe my wife.
    Bride. Breathe me with your yard?
    Lod. No, he'll but measure you out, forsooth.
    Bride. Since you'll needes fence, handle your weapon well,
    For if you take a yard, Ile take an ell.
    985Reach me an ell.
    Lod. An ell for my Mi stris.
    Keep the lawes of the Noble Science, sir, & measure weapons
    with her; your yard is a plaine Heatheni sh weapon; 'tis too
    short, she may giue you a handfull, & yet you'l not reach her.
    990 Cand. Yet I ha the longer arme, come fall too't roundly,
    And spare not me (wife) for Ile lay't on soundly.
    If o're husbands their wiues will needes be Ma sters,
    We men will haue a law to win't at wa sters
    Lod. 'Tis for the breeches, is't not?
    995 Cand. For the breeches.
    Bride. Husband I am for you, Ile not strike in ie st.
    Cand. Nor I.
    Bride. But will you signe to one reque st?
    Cand. What's that?
    1000 Bride. Let me giue the fir st blow.
    Cand. The fir st blow, wife, shall I? Prompt?
    Lod. Let her ha'te.
    If she strike hard, in to her, and breake her pate.
    Cand. A bargaine. Strike.
    1005 Bride. Then guard you from this blow,
    For I play all at legges, but 'tis thus low. She kneeles.
    Behold, I am such a cunning Fencer growne,
    I keepe my ground, yet downe I will be throwne
    With the lea st blow you giue me, I disdaine
    1010The wife that is her husbands Soueraigne.
    She that vpon your pillow fir st did re st,
    They say, the breeches wore, which I dete st.
    The taxe which she imposed vpon you, I abate you,
    If me you make your Ma ster, I shall hate you.
    1015The world shall iudge who offers faire st play;
    You win the breeches, but I win the day.
    Cand. Thou win st the day indeed, giue me thy hand,
    Ile challenge thee no more: my patient bre st
    Plaid thus the Rebell, onely for a ie st:
    1020Here's the rancke rider that breakes Colts, 'tis he
    Can tame the mad folkes, and cur st wiues.
    Bride. Who, your man?
    Cand. My man? my Ma ster, tho his head be bare,
    But he's so courteous, he'll put off his haire.
    1025 Lod. Nay, if your seruice be so hot, a man cannot keepe
    his haire on, Ile serue you no longer.
    Bride. Is this your Schoolema ster?
    Lod. Yes faith, wench, I taught him to take thee downe:
    I hope thou can st take him downe without teaching; you
    1030ha got the conque st, and you both are friends.
    Cand. Beare witnes else.
    Lod. My Prenti ship then ends.
    Cand. For the good seruice you to me haue done,
    I giue you all your yeeres.
    1035 Lod. I thanke you Ma ster.
    Ile ki s s e my Mi stris now, that she may say,
    My man was bound, and free all in one day. Exeunt.