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  • 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    Not Peer Reviewed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)

    C 2 Enter
    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,
    The Honest Whore.
    But when they stand most ill, that foure-squared sinne
    Has almost lodg'd vs in the beggers Inne.
    Besides (to speake which euen my soule does grieue)
    640A sort of Rauens haue hung vpon thy sleeue,
    And fed vpon thee: good Mat. (if you please) so base as
    Scorne to spread wing amongst these;
    By them thy fame is speckled, yet it showes
    Cleare amongst them; so Crowes are faire with Crowes.
    645Custome in sinne, giues sinne a louely dye.
    Blacknesse in Mores is no deformity.
    Mat. Bellafront, Bellafront, I protest to thee, I sweare, as I
    hope my soule, I will turne ouer a new leafe, the prison I confesse has bit me, the best man that sayles in such a Ship, 650may be lowsy.
    Bel. One knockes at doore.
    Mat. Ile be the Porter: they shall see, a Iayle cannot hold
    a braue spirit, Ile flye hye. Exit.
    Bel. How wilde is his behauiour! oh, I feare
    655He's spoyld by prison, he's halfe damned comes there,
    But I must sit all stormes: when a full sayle his
    Fortunes spred, he loued me: being now poore,
    Ile beg for him, and no wife can doe more.
    Enter Matheo, and Orlando like a Seruingman.
    660Mat. Come in pray, would you speake with me, sir?
    Orl. Is your name Signior Matheo?
    Mat. My name is Signior Matheo.
    Orl. Is this Gentlewoman your wife, sir?
    Mat. This Gentlewoman is my wife, sir.
    665Orl. The Destinies spin a strong and euen thread of both
    your loues: the Mothers owne face, I ha not forgot that, I'm
    an old man, sir, & am troubled with a whoreson salt rhewme,
    that I cannot hold my water. Gentlewoman, the last man I
    serued was your Father.
    670Bel. My Father? any tongue that sounds his name,
    Speakes Musicke to me: welcome good old man.
    How does my father? liues he? has he health?
    C 3 How
    The Honest Whore.
    How does my father? I so much doe shame him,
    So much doe wound him, that I scarce dare name him.
    675Orl. I can speake no more.
    Mat. How now old Lad, what doest cry?
    Orl The rhewme still, sir, nothing else; I should be well
    seasond, for mine eyes lye in brine: looke you, sir, I haue a suite to you.
    680Math. What is't my little white pate?
    Orl. Troth, sir, I haue a mind to serue your Worship.
    Mat. To serue me? Troth, my friend, my fortunes are, as
    a man may say----
    Orl. Nay looke you, sir, I know when all sinnes are old
    685in vs, and goe vpon Crutches, that Couetousnesse does but
    then lie in her Cradle; 'Tis not so with me. Letchery loues
    to dwell in the fairest lodging, and Couetousnesse in the oldest buildings, that are ready to fall: but my white head,
    sir, is no Inne for such a gossip. If a Seruingman at my yeeres
    690be not stored with bisket enough, that has sayled about the
    world to serue him the voyage out of his life, and to bring
    him East-home; Ill pitty but all his daies should be fasting daies: I care not so much for wages, for I haue scraped a
    handfull of gold together; I haue a little money, sir, which
    695I would put into your Worships hands, not so much to
    make it more.
    Mat. No, no, you say well, thou sayest well; but I must
    tell you: How much is the money, sayest thou?
    Orl. About twenty pound, Sir.
    700Mat. Twenty pound? Let me see: that shall bring thee in,
    after ten per centum, per annum.
    Orl. No, no, no, sir, no; I cannot abide to haue money in-
    gender: fye vpon this siluer Lechery, fye; if I may haue
    meat to my mouth, and rags to my backe, and a flock-bed
    705to snort vpon, when I die, the longer liuer take all.
    Mat. A good old Boy, yfaith, if thou seruest me, thou shalt
    eat as I eat, drinke as I drinke, lye as I lye, and ride as I ride.
    Orl. That's if you haue money to hire horses.
    Mat. Front. What doest thou thinke on't? This good old
    The Honest Whore.
    710Lad here shall serue me.
    Bel. Alas, Matheo, wilt thou load a backe
    That is already broke?
    Mat. Peace, pox on you, peace, there's a tricke in't, I
    flye hye, it shall be so, Front. as I tell you: giue me thy hand,
    715thou shalt serue me yfaith: welcome: as for your money--
    Orl. Nay, looke you sir, I haue it here.
    Mat. Pesh, keepe it thy selfe, man, and then th'art sure 'tis
    Orl. Safe! and 'twere ten thousand Duckets, your Worship
    720should be my cash-keeper; I haue heard what your Wor-
    ship is, an excellent dunghill Cocke, to scatter all abroad:
    but Ile venture twenty pounds on's head.
    Mat. And did'st thou serue my Worshipfull Father-in-
    law, Signior Orlando Friscabaldo, that mad man once?
    725Orl. I serued him so long, till he turned me out of doores.
    Mat. It's a notable Chuffe, I ha not seene him many a day.
    Orl. No matter and you ne'r see him: it's an arrant Gran-
    dy, a Churle, and as damnd a cut-throat.
    Bel. Thou villaine, curb thy tongue, thou art a Iudas,
    730To sell thy Masters name to slander thus.
    Mat. Away Asse, he speakes but truth, thy father is a--
    Bel. Gentleman.
    Mat. And an old knaue, there's more deceit in him then
    in sixteene Poticaries: it's a Deuill, thou maist beg, starue,
    735hang, damne; does he send thee so much as a cheese?
    Orl. Or so much as a Gammon of Bacon,
    Hee'll giue it his Dogs first.
    Mat. A Iayle, a Iayle.
    Orl. A Iew, a Iew, sir.
    740Mat. A Dog.
    Orl. An English Mastiffe, sir.
    Mat. Pox rot out his old stinking garbage.
    Bel. Art not ashamed to strike an absent man thus?
    Art not ashamed to let this vild Dog barke,
    745And bite my Father thus? Ile not indure it;
    Out of my doores, base slaue.
    The Honest Whore.
    Mat. Your dores! a vengeance? I shall liue to cut that old
    rogues throat, for all you take his part thus.
    Orl. He shall liue to see thee hangd first.
    750Enter Hipollito.
    Mat. Gods so my Lord, your Lordship is most welcome,
    I'm proud of this, my Lord.
    Hip. Was bold to see you.
    Is that your wife?
    755Mat. Yes sir.
    Hip. Ile borrow her lip.
    Mat. With all my heart, my Lord.
    Orl. Who's this, I pray sir?
    Mat. My Lord Hipollito: what's thy name?
    760Orl. Pacheco.
    Mat. Pacheco, fine name; Thou seest, Pacheco, I keepe
    company with no Scondrels, nor base fellowes.
    Hip. Came not my Footman to you?
    Bel. Yes my Lord.
    765Hip. I sent by him a Diamond and a Letter,
    Did you receiue them?
    Bel. Yes my Lord, I did.
    Hip. Read you the letter?
    Bel. O're and o're 'tis read.
    770Hip. And faith your answer?
    Bel. Now the time's not fit,
    You see, my Husbands here.
    Hip. Ile now then leaue you,
    And choose mine houre; but ere I part away,
    775Harke, you remember I must haue no nay.
    Matheo, I will leaue you.
    Mat. A glasse of wine.
    Hip. Not now, Ile visit you at other times.
    Y'are come off well then?
    780Mat. Excellent well, I thanke your Lordship: I owe you
    my life, my Lord; and will pay my best blood in any seruice
    of yours.
    The Honest Whore.
    Hip. Ile take no such deare payment, harke you Matheo,
    I know, the prison is a gulfe, if money runne low with you,
    785my purse is yours: call for it.
    Mat. Faith my Lord, I thanke my starres, they send me
    downe some; I cannot sinke, so long as these bladders hold.
    Hip. I will not see your fortunes ebbe, pray try.
    To starue in full barnes were fond modesty.
    790Mat. Open the doore, sirra.
    Hip. Drinke this, and anon I pray thee giue thy Mistris
    this. Exit.
    Orl. O Noble Spirit, if no worse guests here dwell,
    My blue coate sits on my old shoulders well.
    795Mat. The onely royall fellow, he's bounteous as the Indies,
    what's that he said to thee, Bellafront?
    Bel. Nothing.
    Mat. I prethee good Girle?
    Bel. Why I tell you nothing.
    800Mat. Nothing? it's well: trickes, that I must be behol-
    den to a scald hot-liuerd gotish Gallant, to stand with my
    cap in my hand, and vaile bonnet, when I ha spred as lofty
    sayles as himselfe, wud I had beene hanged. Nothing? Pa-
    checo, brush my cloake.
    805Orl. Where is't, sir?
    Mat. Come, wee'll flye hye.
    Nothing? there is a whore still in thine eye. Exit.
    Orl. My twenty pounds flyes high, O wretched woman,
    This varlot's able to make Lucrece common.
    810How now Mistris? has my Master dyed you into this sad
    Bel. Fellow, be gone I pray thee; if thy tongue itch after
    talke so much, seeke out thy Master, th'art a fit instrument
    for him.
    815Orl. Zownes, I hope he will not play vpon me?
    Bel. Play on thee? no, you two will flye together,
    Because you are rouing arrowes of one feather.
    Would thou wouldst leaue my house, thou ne'r shalt
    Please, me weaue thy nets ne'r so hye,
    D Thou
    The Honest Whore.
    820Thou shalt be but a spider in mine eye.
    Th'art ranke with poyson, poyson temperd well,
    Is food for health; but thy blacke tongue doth swell
    With venome, to hurt him that gaue thee bread,
    To wrong men absent, is to spurne the dead.
    825And so did'st thou thy Master, and my Father.
    Orl. You haue small reason to take his part; for I haue
    heard him say fiue hundred times, you were as arrant a
    whore as euer stiffned tiffany neckcloathes in water-starch
    vpon a Saturday 'ith afternoone.
    830Bel. Let him say worse, when for the earths offence
    Hot vengeance through the marble cloudes is driuen,
    Is't fit earth shoot agen those darts at heauen?
    Orl. And so if your Father call you whore, you'll not call
    him old knaue: Friscabaldo, she carries thy mind vp and
    835downe; she's thine owne flesh, blood, and bone; troth Mi-
    stris, to tell you true, the fireworkes that ran from me vpon
    lines against my good old Master, your father, were but to
    try how my young Master, your Husband loued such squibs:
    but it's well knowne, I loue your father as my selfe; Ile ride
    840for him at mid-night, runne for you by Owle-light; Ile dye
    for him, drudge for you; Ile flye low, and Ile flye hye (as
    my Master saies) to doe you good, if you'll forgiue me.
    Bel. I am not made of marble: I forgiue thee.
    Orl. Nay, if you were made of marble, a good Stone-
    845cutter might cut you: I hope the twenty pound I deliuered
    to my Master, is in a sure hand.
    Bel. In a sure hand I warrant thee for spending.
    Orl. I see my yong Master is a madcap, and a bonus socius,
    I loue him well, Mistris: yet as well as I loue him, Ile not
    850play the knaue with you; looke you, I could cheat you of
    this purse full of money; but I am an old Lad, and I scorne
    to cunny-catch: yet I ha beene Dog at a Cony in my time.
    Bel. A purse, where hadst it?
    Orl. The Gentleman that went away, whisperd in mine
    855eare, and charged me to giue it you.
    Bel. The Lord Hipollito?
    The Honest Whore.
    Orla. Yes, if he be a Lord, he gaue it me.
    Bel. 'Tis all gold.
    Orl. 'Tis like so: it may be, he thinkes you want money,
    860and therefore bestowes his almes brauely, like a Lord.
    Bel. He thinkes a siluer net can catch the poore,
    Here's baite to choake a Nun, and turne her whore.
    Wilt thou be honest to me?
    Orl. As your nailes to your fingers, which I thinke ne-
    865uer deceiued you.
    Bel. Thou to this Lord shalt goe, commend me to him,
    And tell him this, the Towne has held out long,
    Because (within) 'twas rather true, then strong.
    To sell it now were base; Say 'tis no hold
    870Built of weake stuffe, to be blowne vp with gold.
    He shall beleeue thee by this token, or this; if not, by this.
    Orla. Is this all?
    Bel. This is all.
    Orl. Mine owne Girle still.
    875Bel. A Starre may shoote, not fall. Exit Bellafront.
    Orl. A Starre? nay, thou art more then the moone, for
    thou hast neither changing quarters, nor a man standing in
    thy circle with a bush of thornes. Is't possible the Lord Hipollito, whose face is as ciuill as the outside of a Dedicato-
    880ry Booke, should be a Muttonmunger? A poore man has
    but one Ewe, and this Grandy Sheepe-biter leaues whole
    Flockes of fat Weathers (whom he may knocke downe)
    to deuoure this. Ile trust neither Lord nor Butcher with
    quicke flesh for this tricke; the Cuckoo I see now sings all
    885the yeere, though euery man cannot heare him, but Ile
    spoyle his notes; can neither Loue-letters, nor the Deuils
    common Pick-lockes (Gold) nor Precious Stones make my
    Girle draw vp her Percullis: hold out still, wench.
    All are not Bawds (I see now) that keepe doores,
    890Nor all good wenches that are markt for Whores. Exit.