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  • Title: The Whore of Babylon (Quarto, 1607)
  • Editors: Frances E. Dolan, Anna Pruitt

  • 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
    Editors: Frances E. Dolan, Anna Pruitt
    Not Peer Reviewed

    The Whore of Babylon (Quarto, 1607)

    The Whore of Babylon.
    2845Not a man slaine nor tane, not drowed. Emp. O damnd!
    3. King. Two with two spit-frog Rapiers tooke a Galleon.
    Com. O pittie her. 3. K. Let her ta ste al. Emp. Fall thunder,
    And wedge me into earth, stiffe as I am
    So I may be but deafe, turne me into
    2850A speckled Adder: O you Mountaines fall,
    And couer me, that of me, memory
    May neuer more be found. 4. Card: O holy mother!
    Emp. Earth, Ile sucke all thy venome to my bre st,
    It cannot hurt me so as doe my sonnes,
    2855My disobedient, desperate, dampned sonnes,
    My beauy curse shall strike you. Com. Oh kneele downe!
    Kneele downe and begge a pardon, lea st her curse.---
    1. King. I thats the blocke, wee mu st kneele, or doe worse.
    Com. Lift vp your sacred head: your children come,
    2860Vpon their knees to take a mothers doome.
    Emp. O Syrian Panthers! you spend breath mo st sweete,
    But you are spotted or'e, from head to feete,
    This neck ile yoke,---this throate a staires ile make,
    By which ile climbe---like stubble thou shalt burne,
    2865In my hot vengeance. 2. King. Vengeance I defie.
    I shall fall from thee, since thou mak st my bre st
    Thy scorne, true Kings such besenes will dete st.
    Electors will I call, and they shall make thee,
    But seruant of mine Empires they shall thru st
    2870A ring into thy no strils.
    Emp. Come let me ki s s e thy cheeke: I did but ie st,
    Tyta. Marke: those that mo st adore her, mo st are slau'd,
    She neuer does grow base, but when shees brau'd:
    3. King. You seeme still angry. Emp. No, yes: leade the way,
    2875Neuer was day to me thus Tragicall,
    Great Babylon thus lowe did neuer fall.
    Tita. Thankes Time for this; lanch forth to Oberons vayle
    We are neere shore: your hands to strike our saile.
    Exeunt.
    FINIS.

    L