Digital Renaissance Editions

About this text

  • Title: The Honest Whore, Part 1 (Quarto 2, 1604)
  • 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.
    Authors: Thomas Dekker, Thomas Middleton
    Editor: Joost Daalder
    Peer Reviewed

    The Honest Whore, Part 1 (Quarto 2, 1604)

    Hip. Perhaps I shall.
    Ma. Perhaps? fah! I know you can, sweare to me you wil.
    945Hip. Since you will presse me on my word, I will. Exit.
    Bell. What sullen picture is this seruant?
    Ma. Its Count Hipolito, the braue Count.
    Pio. As gallant a spirit, as any in Millan you sweete (Iewe,
    Flu. Oh hees a most essentiall gentleman, coz.
    950Cast. Did you neuer heare of Count Hipolitos ac-
    Bell. Marymuffe a your counts, & be no more life in 'em.
    Ma. Hees so malcontent! sirra Bellafronte, & you be ho-
    nest gallants, lets sup together, and haue the count with vs:
    955thou shalt sit at the vpper end puncke.
    Bell. Puncke you sowcde gurnet?
    Ma. Kings truce: come, ile bestow the supper to haue
    him but laugh.
    Cast. He betraies his youth too grosly to that tyrant me-(lancholy.
    960Ma. All this is for a woman.
    Bell. A woman! some whore! what sweet Iewell ist?
    Pio. Wod she heard you. Flu. Troth so wud I.
    Cast. And I by heauen.
    Bell. Nay good seruant, what woman? Ma. Pah.
    965Bell. Pry thee tell me, abusse and tell me: I warrant hees
    an honest fellowe, if hee take on thus for a wench: good
    roague who:
    Ma. Byth Lord I will not, must not, faith mistresse: ist a
    match sirs? this night, at Th'antilop:, for thers best wine, and (good boyes.
    970Omni. Its done at Th'antilop.
    Bell. I cannot be there tonight.
    Ma. Cannot? bith lord you shall.
    Bell. By the Lady I will not: shaall!
    Flu. Why then put it off till fryday: wut come then cuz?
    975Bell. Well. Enter Roger.
    Ma. Y'are the waspishest Ape. Roger, put your mistris in
    minde, your scurny mistris heere, to sup with vs on friday
    next: y'are best come like a mad woman, without a band in
    your wastcoate, & the lynings of your kirtle outward, like
    980euery common hackny that steals out at the back gate of her
    sweet knights lodging Bell.