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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
  

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Enter the two Masters, after them the Constable, after him Penelope Whore-hound, like a Cittizens wife, after her two Beadles, one with a blue Gowne, another with Chalke and a Mallet.
Pen.

I ha worne many a costly Gowne, but I was neuer
thus guarded with blue Coats, and Beadles, and Constables,
and ------


Car.

Alas faire Mistris, spoyle not thus your eyes.


Pen.

Oh sweet sir, I feare the spoyling of other places about
me that are dearer then my eyes; if you be Gentlemen,
if you be men, or euer came of a woman, pitty my case, stand
to me, sticke to me, good sir, you are an old man.


Orl.

Hang not on me, I prethee, old Trees beare no such
fruit.


Pen.

Will you bayle me, Gentlemen?


Lod.

Bayle thee, art in for debt?


Pen.

No—is my Iudge, sir, I am in for no debts, I payd
my Taylor for this Gowne, the last fiue shillings a weeke
that was behind, yesterday.


Duke

What is your name, I pray?


Pen.

Penelope Whore-hound, I come of the Whore-hounds.
How does Lieutenant Bots.


Omnes.

A ha Bots.


Bots.

A very honest woman, as I'm a Soldier, a pox Bots ye.


Pen.

I was neuer in this pickle before, and yet if I goe amongst
Cittizens wiues, they ieere at me: if I goe among
the Loose-bodied Gownes, they cry a pox on me, because I
goe ciuilly attyred, and sweare their trade was a good



trade, till such as I am tooke it out of their hands: good
Lieutenant Bots, speake to these Captaines to bayle me.


1. Master.

Begging for bayle still? you are a trim gossip, goe
giue her the blue Gowne, set her to her chare, worke Huswife,
for your bread, away.


Pen.

Out you Dog, a pox on you all, women are borne to
curse thee, but I shall liue to see twenty such flat-caps shaking
Dice for a penny-worth of Pippins: out, you blue-eyed
Rogue.


Exit.
Omnes.

Ha, ha, ha.


Duke

Euen now she wept, and praid, now does she curse?


1. Master.

Seeing me: if still she had staid, this had beene
worse.


Hip.
Was she euer here before?

1. Master.
Fiue times at least,

And thus if men come to her, haue her eyes wrung, and
wept out her bayle.


Omnes.

Bots, you know her?


Bots.

Is there any Gentleman here, that knowes not a
Whore, and is he a haire the worse for that?


Duke
Is she a Citty-dame, she's so attyred?

1. Master.
No, my good Lord, that's onely but the vaile
To her loose body, I haue seene her here
In gayer Masking Suits, as seuerall Sawces
Giue one Dish seuerall Tastes, so change of Habits
In Whores is a bewitching Art: to day she's all in
Colours to besot Gallants, then in modest blacke,
To catch the Cittizen, and this from their Examinations
Drawne, now shall you see a Monster both in shape
And nature quite from these, that sheds no teare,
Nor yet is nice, 'tis a plaine ramping Beare,
Many such Whales are cast vpon this Shore.

Omnes.
Let's see her.

1. Master.
Then behold a swaggering Whore.

Exit.
Orl.
Keep your grownd, Bots.

Bots.

I doe but trauerse to spy aduantage how to arme
my selfe.