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    Not Peer Reviewed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.
    I'm not (my Lord) of that low Character.
    Hip. Your name I pray?
    205Ant. Antonio Georgio.
    Hip. Of Millan?
    Ant. Yes my Lord.
    Hip. Ile borrow leaue
    To read you o're, and then we'll talke: till then
    210Drinke vp this gold, good wits should loue good wine,
    This of your loues, the earnest that of mine.
    How now, sir, where's your Lady, not gone yet?
    Enter Bryan.
    Bryan. I fart di Lady is runne away from dee, a mighty
    215deale of ground, she sent me backe for dine owne sweet
    face, I pray dee come my Lord away, wut tow goe now?
    Hip. Is the Coach gone?
    Saddle my Horse the sorrell.
    Bryan. A pox a de Horses nose, he is a lowsy rascally
    220fellow, when I came to gird his belly, his scuruy guts rum-
    bled, di Horse farted in my face, and dow knowest, an Irish-
    man cannot abide a fart, but I haue saddled de Hobby-horse,
    di fine Hobby is ready, I pray dee my good sweet Lord, wit
    tow goe now, and I will runne to de Deuill before dee?
    225Hip. Well, sir, I pray lets see you Master Scholler.
    Bry. Come I pray dee, wut come sweet face? Goe. Exeunt.
    Enter Lodouico, Carolo, Astolpho, Bercaldo.
    Lod. Gods so, Gentlemen, what doe we forget?
    Omnes. What?
    230Lod. Are not we all enioyned as this day, Thursday is't
    not? I as that day to be at the Linnen-drapers house at din-
    Car. Signior Candido, the patient man.
    Asto. Afore Ioue, true, vpon this day hee's married.
    235Berc. I wonder, that being so stung with a Waspe be-
    fore, he dares venture againe to come about the eaues a-
    mongst Bees.
    Lod. Oh 'tis rare sucking a sweet Hony-combe; pray
    Heauen his old wife be buried deepe enough, that she rise
    B not