0.1The Honest Whore, [Part One]
1[1.1]
1.1.0.12Enter at one door a funeral (a coronet lying on the hearse, scutcheons 3and garlands hanging on the sides) attended by Gasparo 4Trebazzi, Duke of Milan, Castruccio, Sinezi, Pioratto, 5Fluello, and others, [including Attendants]. At another door, enter Hippolito in discontented 6appearance, [and] Mattheo, a gentleman, his friend, labouring 7to hold him back.
9Behold, yon comet shows his head again!
14Gentlemen
[To Attendants] On afore there, ho!
Kinsmen and friends, take from your manly sides
1.1.8.1[The Gentlemen draw; Mattheo continues to struggle with Hippolito.]
I prithee, dear Mattheo –
19Mattheo
Come, youʼre mad.
[To the Duke] I do arrest thee, murderer.
[To Attendants] Set down,
[To the Gentlemen] I do beseech you all, for my bloodʼs sake
[To Attendants] Set on.
28Hippolito
[To Attendants] Set down the body.
29Mattheo
O my lord,
I know she is not dead.
32Duke
Frantic young man,
My lord –
48Duke
What wouldst thou have? Is she not dead?
O, you haʼ killed her by your cruelty!
Admit I had, thou killst her now again,
Let me but kiss her pale and bloodless lip.
O fie, fie, fie!
Or if not touch her, let me look on her.
As you regard your honour –
56Hippolito
Honour? Smoke!
Or if you loved her living, spare her now.
Ay, well done, sir; you play the gentleman.
[To Mattheo] Iʼll join
1.1.46.1Exeunt with funeral [all but the Duke, Hippolito, and Mattheo].
62Hippolito
Mattheo, thou dost wound me more.
I give you physic, noble friend, not wounds.
O, well said, well done; a true gentleman!
Forget her?
70Duke
Nay, nay, be but patient,
[Aside to Duke] Speak no more sentences, my good lord, but slip 76hence. You see they are but fits; Iʼll rule him, I warrant ye. Ay, so, 77tread gingerly; your Grace is here somewhat too long already.
1.1.58.1[Exit Duke.]
1.1.5978[Aside] ʼSblood, the jest were now, if having taʼen some knocks 79oʼthʼ pate already, he should get loose again, and, like a mad 80ox, toss my new black cloaks into the kennel. I must humour 81his lordship. [To Hippolito] My lord Hippolito, is it in your stomach to 82go to dinner?
Where is the body?
The body, as the Duke spake very wisely, is gone 85to be wormed.
I cannot rest. Iʼll meet it at next turn.
1.1.63.1Mattheo holds him inʼs arms.
How your love looks? Worse than a scarecrow. 89Wrestle not with me; the great fellow gives the fall for a ducat.
I shall forget myself!
Pray do so; leave yourself behind yourself, and 92go whither you will. ʼSfoot, do you long to have base rogues, 93that maintain a Saint Anthonyʼs fire in their noses by nothing 94but twopenny ale, make ballads of you? If the Duke had but so 95much mettle in him as is in a cobblerʼs awl, he would haʼ been a 96vexed thing; he and his train had blown you up but that their 97powder has taken the wet of cowards. Youʼll bleed three pottles 98of Alicant, by this light, if you follow ʼem, and then we 99shall have a hole made in a wrong place, to have surgeons roll 100thee up like a baby in swaddling clouts.
What day is today, Mattheo?
Yea, marry, this is an easy question. Why, today is – 103let me see – Thursday.
1.1.69Hippolito
O, Thursday.
Hereʼs a coil for a dead commodity! ʼSfoot, women 105when they are alive are but dead commodities, for you 106shall have one woman lie upon many menʼs hands.
She died on Monday, then.
And thatʼs the most villainous day of all the week 109to die in; and she was well, and ate a mess of water-gruel on 110Monday morning.
Ay, it cannot be
O yes, my lord, so soon. Why, I haʼ known them 114that at dinner have been as well, and had so much health, that they 115were glad to pledge it, yet before three oʼclock have been found 116dead drunk.
On Thursday buried, and on Monday died!
Strange feeders they are indeed, my lord, and, like 123your jester or young courtier, will enter upon any manʼs trencher 124without bidding.
Curst be that day for ever that robbed her
Youʼll do all these good works now every Monday, 145because it is so bad; but I hope upon Tuesday morning I 146shall take you with a wench.
If ever, whilst frail blood through my veins run,
If you have this strange monster, Honesty, in 156your belly, why, so: jig-makers and chroniclers shall pick something 157out of you. But, an I smell not you and a bawdy-house 158out within these ten days, let my nose be as big as an English 159bag-pudding. Iʼll follow your lordship, though it be to 160the place aforenamed.
1.1.110.1Exeunt.