Digital Renaissance Editions

About this text

  • 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    Not Peer Reviewed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 Honest Whore.

    Enter Bellafront and Matheo.

    Bell. Oh my sweet Husband, wert thou in thy graue, and
    art aliue agen? O welcome, welcome.
    605Mat. Doest 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 sweetest 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
    615Bel. Matheo?
    Mat. What sayest, what sayest? Oh braue fresh ayre, a pox
    on these Grates and gingling of Keyes, and rattling of Iron,
    Ile beare vp, Ile flye hye wench, hang Tosse.
    Bel. Matheo, prethee make thy prison thy glasse,
    620And in it view the wrinkles, and the scarres,
    By which thou wert disfigured, viewing them, mend them.
    Mat. Ile goe visit all the mad rogues now, and the good
    roaring boyes.
    Bel. Thou doest not heare me?
    625Mat. Yes faith doe I.
    Bel. Thou hast beene in the hands of misery, and tane strong
    Physicke, prethee now be sound.
    Mat. Yes. S'foot, I wonder how the inside of a Tauerne
    lookes now. Oh when shall I bizle, bizle?
    630Bel. Nay see, th'art thirsty still for poyson, come, I will
    not haue thee swagger.
    Mat. Honest Apes face.
    Bel. 'Tis that sharpned an axe to cut thy throate.
    Good Loue, I would not haue thee sell thy substance
    635And time (worth all) in those damned shops of Hell;
    Those Dycing houses, that stand neuer well,