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 |
 | 1. |
| 1. |
 | The second part of the honest whore, with the hvmors of the Patient Man, the Impatient Wife |  |
Lod.
My noble Linnen Draper! Some wine: Welcome
old Lad.
Mat.
Y'are welcome, Signior.
Cand.
These Lawnes, sir?
Mat.
Presently, my man is gone for them: we ha rigged
a Fleet, you see here, to saile about the world.
Cand.
A dangerous Voyage, sailing in such Ships.
Bots.
There's no casting ouer boord yet.
Lod.
Because you are an old Lady, I will haue you be acquainted
with this graue Cittizen, pray bestow your lips
vpon him, and bid him welcome.
Hors.
Any Cittizen shall be most welcome to me:—I
haue vsed to buy ware at your shop.
Cand.
It may be so, good Madam.
Hors.
Your Prentices know my dealings well; I trust
your good wife be in good case: if it please you, beare her a
token from my lips, by word of mouth.
Cand.
I pray no more forsooth, 'tis very well, indeed I
loue no sweet meats:—Sh'as a breath stinkes worse then
fifty Polecats. Sir, a word, is she a Lady?
Lod.
A woman of a good house, and an ancient, shee's a
Bawde.
Cand.
A Bawde? Sir, Ile steale hence, and see your
Lawnes some other time.
Mat.
Steale out of such company? Pacheco? my man is
but gone for em: Lieutenant Bots, drinke to this worthy old
fellow, and teach him to flie hie.
Swagger: and make him doo't on his knees.
Cand.
How, Bots? now blesse me, what doe I with Bots?
no wine in sooth, no wine, good Master Bots.
Bots.
Gray-beard, Goats pizzle: 'tis a health, haue this
in your guts, or this, there: I will sing a bawdy song, sir, because
your vergis face is melancholly, to make liquor goe
downe glib: will you fall on your maribones, and pledge
this health, 'tis to my Mistris, a whore?
Cand.
Here's Ratsbane vpon Ratsbane: Master Bots, I
pray, sir, pardon me: you are a Soldier, presse me not to this
seruice, I am old, and shoot not in such pot-gunnes.
Bots.
Cap, Ile teach you.
Cand.
To drinke healths, is to drinke sicknesse: Gentlemen,
pray rescue me.
Bots.
Zounds, who dare?
Omnes.
We shall ha stabbing then?
Cand.
I ha reckonings to cast vp, good Master Bots.
Bots.
This will make you cast em vp better.
Lod.
Why does your hand shake so?
Cand.
The palsie, Signiors, danceth in my blood.
Bots.
Pipe with a pox, sir, then, or Ile make your blood
dance—
Cand.
Hold, hold, good Master Bots, I drinke.
Omnes.
To whom?
Cand.
To the old Countesse there.
Hors.
To me, old Boy? this is he that neuer drunke wine:
once agen too't.
Cand.
With much adoe the poison is got downe,
Tho I can scarce get vp; neuer before
Dranke I a whores health, nor will neuer more.
| The second part of the honest whore, with the hvmors of the Patient Man, the Impatient Wife | |