University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
The second part of the honest whore, with the hvmors of the Patient Man, the Impatient Wife

the Honest Whore, perswaded by strong Arguments to turne Curtizan againe : her braue refuting those Arguments. And lastly, the Comicall Passages of an Italian Bridewell, where the Scaene ends
  

collapse section1. 
 1. 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

Enter Bellafront, and Orlando.
Mat.
Fill out wine to my little finger.
With my heart yfaith.

Lod.
Thankes, good Matheo.
To your owne sweet selfe.

Orl.

All the Brokers hearts, sir, are made of flint, I can
with all my knocking, strike but sixe sparkes of fire out of
them, here's sixe duckets, if youle take them.


Mat.

Giue me them: an euill conscience gnaw them all,
moths, and plagues hang vpon their lowsie wardrobs.


Lod.
Is this your man, Matheo? An old Seruingman.

Orl.
You may giue me t'other halfe too, sir:
That's the Begger.

Lod.
What hast there, gold?

Mat.

A sort of Rascalls are in my debt, (God knowes
what) and they feed me with bits, with crummes, a pox
choke them.


Lod.
A word, Matheo: be not angry with me,
Beleeue it that I know the touch of time,
And can part copper (tho it be gilded o're)
From the true gold: the sailes which thou doest spread,


Would show well, if they were not borrowed.
The sound of thy low fortunes drew me hither,
I giue my selfe vnto thee, prethee vse me,
I will bestow on you a suite of Sattin,
And all things else to fit a Gentleman,
Because I loue you.

Mat.
Thankes, good Noble Knight.

Lod.
Call on me when you please,
Till then farewell.

Exit.
Mat.
Hast angled? hast cut vp this fresh Salmon?

Bel.
Wudst haue me be so base?

Mat.
It's base to steale, it's base to be a whore:
Thou't be more base, Ile make thee keepe a doore.

Exit.
Orl.

I hope he will not sneake away with all the money,
will he?


Bel.

Thou seest he does.


Orl.

Nay then it's well. I set my braines vpon an vpright
Last; tho my wits be old, yet they are like a witherd pippin,
wholsome. Looke you, Mistris, I told him I had but sixe
duckets of the (Knaue) Broker, but I had eight, and kept
these two for you.


Bel.

Thou shouldst haue giuen him all.


Orl.

What, to flie hie?


Bel.

Like waues, my misery driues on misery.


Exit.
Orl.

Sell his wiues cloathes from her backe? does any.
Poulterers wife pull chickins aliue? He Riots all abroad,
wants all at home; he Dices, whores, swaggers, sweares,
cheates, borrowes, pawnes: Ile giue him hooke and line,
a little more for all this.

Yet sure i'th end he'll delude all my hopes,
And shew me a French tricke danc'd on the ropes.

Exit.