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    Not Peer Reviewed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.
    Hip. I'm in hast, pray the good womā take some apter time.
    130Infae. Good Woman doe.
    Bel. Oh las! it does concerne a poore mans life.
    Hip. Life! sweet heart? Seat your selfe, Il'e but read this
    and come.
    Lod. What stockings haue you put on this morning, Ma-
    135dam? if they be not yellow, change them; that paper is a
    Letter from some Wench to your Husband.
    Infae Oh sir, that cannot make me iealous. Exeunt.
    Hip. Your busines, sir, to me?
    Ant. Yes my good Lord.
    140Hip. Presently sir; are you Mathaeos wife.
    Bela. That most vnfortunate woman.
    Hip. I'm sorry these stormes are fallē on him, I loue Mathaeo.
    And any good shall doe him, hee and I.
    Haue sealed two bonds of friendship, which are strong
    145In me, how euer Fortune does him wrong;
    He speakes here hee's condemned. Is't so?
    Bel. Too true.
    Hip. What was he whom he killed? Oh, his name's here;
    old Iacomo, sonne to the Florentine Iacomo, a dog, that to
    150meet profit, would to the very eyelids wade in blood of his
    owne children. Tell Mathaeo, the Duke my father hardly
    shall deny his signed pardon, 'twas faire fight, yes if rumors
    tongue goe true, so writes he here.
    To morrow morning I returne from Court,
    155Pray be you here then. Ile haue done sir straight:
    But in troth say, are you Mathaeos wife?
    You haue forgot me.
    Bel. No, my Lord.
    Hip. Your Turner,
    160That made you smooth to run an euen byas,
    You know I loued you when your very soule
    Was full of discord: art not a good wench still?
    Bel. Vmph, whē I had lost my way to heauen, you shewed it:
    I was new borne that day. Enter Lodouico.
    165Lod. S'foot, my Lord, your Lady askes if you haue not left