Digital Renaissance Editions

About this text

  • Title: The Whore of Babylon (Quarto, 1607)
  • Editors: Frances E. Dolan, Anna Pruitt

  • 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
    Editors: Frances E. Dolan, Anna Pruitt
    Not Peer Reviewed

    The Whore of Babylon (Quarto, 1607)

    The Whore of Babylon.
    1105As you now haue, I fought with, conquered them,
    Got to the highe st bough, eat of the fruit,
    And gathered of the seauen-fold leaues of Art,
    What I de sir'd; and yet for all the Moones
    That I haue seene waxe olde, and pine for anger,
    1110I had outwatched them: and for all the candles
    I wa sted out on long, and frozen nights,
    To thaw them into day; I fild my head
    With books, but scarce could fil my mouth with bread:
    I had the Muses smile, but moneyes frowne,
    1115And neuer could get out of such a gowne.
    Camp. How did you change your starre?
    3. King. By changing Aire:
    The god of waues wa sht of my pouertie,
    I sought out a new sunne beyond the seas,
    1120Whose beames begat me gold.
    Camp. O me dull a s s e!
    I am nail'd downe by wilfull beggerie,
    Yet feele not where it enters: like a horse
    My hoofes are par'd to 'th quicke) euen til they bleed)
    1125To make me runne from hence, yet this Tortois shell,
    (My countrey) lies so heauy on my backe,
    Pressing my worth downe, that I slowly creep
    Through base and slimie waies.
    3. King. Countrey!
    1130 Camp. Shee hangs
    Her owne brats at her backe, to teach them begge,
    And in her lap sets strangers.
    3. King. Yet your countrey.
    Camp. I was not borne to this, not school'd to this,
    1135My parents spent not wealth on me to this,
    I will not stay here long.
    3. King. Doe not.
    Camp. Beeing hence,
    Ile write in gall and poyson gain st my nurce
    1140This Fairie land, for not rewarding merit:
    If euer I come backe Ile be a Calthrop
    To pricke my countries feet, that tread on me.
    3. King. O shee's vnkind, hard-hearted!