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A complete list of the several pamphlets, published by a writer who so frequently employed the press, is scarce to be expected. The following is more perfect than any one which hath yet appeared: 1. "The Wonderfull Yeare, 1603. Wherein is shewed the Picture of London, lying sicke of the "Plague. At the ende of all, (like a merry Epilogue to a dull Play,) certaine Tales are cut out in sundry fashions, of purpose to shorten the Lives of long Winter Nights, that lye watching in the "darke for us, 4to, 1603."

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Reprinted in Phoenix Britannicus, 1732, Vol. I.

p.

27.

2. "The whole Magnificent Entertainment given to King James, Queen Anne his Wife, and Henry Frederick the Prince, upon the day of his Majesties triumphant passage (from the Tower) "through his Honourable Citie and Chamber of London, the 15th of March, 1603, as well by the English as by the Strangers; with the Speeches and Songs delivered in the several Pageants; and "those Speeches that before were published in Latin, now newly set forth in English, by Thomas "Dekker, 4to, 1604."

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3. "News from Hell; brought by the Divel's Carrier, 4to, 1606." The running title is, The Divel's Answere to Pierce Pennylesse.

4. "The Seven Deadly Sinnes of London, drawn in seven severall Coaches through the seven severall "Gates of the Citie; bringing the Plague with them, 4to, 1606.”

5. Jests to make you Merryer, 4to, 1607.

6. A Knight's Conjuring done in Earnest, discovered in Jest, 4to, 1607.

7. The Dead Term, or Westminster Complaint, &c. 4to, 1608.

8. The Guls Horne Booke, 4to, 1609. This treats of the humours and fashions of the times among the gallants and Paul's walkers; also at the ordinaries, playhouses, taverns, &c. See an extract from it in the last edition of Shakespeare, 1778.

9. Troja nova Triumphans, at the receiving Sir John Swinnerton, Knight, into the City of London, 4to, 1612.

10. "The Belman of London; bringing to light the most notorious Villanies that are now prac"tised in the Kingdome, 4th edition, 1616, 4to."

There was an edition of this pamphlet as early as in 1608.

11. "Dekkar his Dream, 4to, 1620."

12. "Villanies discovered by Candle-light, and the helpe of a new Cryer, called, O Per se O; be"ing an addition to the Belman's Second Night Walke; and laying open to the World of those abuses, "which the Belman (because he went i'the darke) could not see. With Canting Songs, and other new Conceits, never before printed. Newly corrected and enlarged by the Author, 1620, 4to." 13. Thomas of Reading, or the Six Worthys Yeomen of the West; now six times corrected and enlarged, 1632.

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He was also the author of a pamphlet, the title-page of which was wanting in the only copy I have seen of it. The running titles of the different parts of it are, A Strange IIorse Race; The Divil's Last Will and Testament; and The Bankrout's Banquet.

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THE HONEST WHORE.

ACT I.

Duke. Frantic young man,

SCENE L.-Enter at one Door a Funeral, a Co-
ronet lying on the Hearse, 'Scutcheons and Gar- Wilt thou believe these gentlemen? pray speak.
lands hanging on the sides; attended by Gas-Thou dost abuse my child, and mock'st the tears
PARO TREBATZI Duke of Milan, CASTRUCHIO, That here are shed for her. If to behold
SINEZI, PIORATTO, FLUELLO, and others at Those roses withered that set out her cheeks;
another Door.
That pair of stars, that gave her body light,
Darkened and dim for ever; all those rivers,
That fed her veins with warm and crimson streams,
Frozen and dried up ;-if these be signs of death,
Then is she dead. Thou unreligious youth!
Art not ashamed to empty all these eyes
Of funeral tears; (a debt due to the dead,
As mirth is to the living;) sham'st thou not
To have them stare on thee? Hark, thou art
cursed,

Enter HIPOLITO in discontented appearance ;-
MATHEO, a Gentleman, his Friend, labouring

to hold him back.

I

Duke. Behold yon comet shews his head again!
Twice hath he thus at cross-turns thrown on us
Prodigious looks; twice hath he troubled
The waters of our eyes. See, he's turned wild!
Go on, in God's name!

All. On afore there, ho!

Duke. Kinsmen and friends, take from your
manly sides

Your weapons, to keep back the desperate boy
From doing violence to the innocent dead.
Hip. I pr'ythee, dear Matheo,-
Math. Come, you're mad.

Hip. I do arrest thee, murderer! set down,
Villains, set down that sorrow, 'tis all mine!
Duke. I do beseech you all, for my blood's
sake,

Send hence your milder spirits, and let wrath
Join in confederacy with your weapons' points;
If he proceed to vex us, let your swords
Seek out his bowels; funeral grief lothes words.
All. Set on.

Hip. Set down the body.

Math. O, my lord,

You're wrong:-
:-i'the open

dead.

street!-You

see she's

Hip. I know she is not dead.

Even to thy face, by those that scarce can speak.
Hip. My lord.

Duke. What would'st thou have? is she not

dead?

Hip. Oh, you ha' killed her by your cruelty.
Duke. Admit I had, thou kill'st her now again;
And art more savage than a barbarous Moor.2
Hip. Let me but kiss her pale and bloodless lip.
Duke. O, fie, fie, fie!

Hip. Or, if not touch her, let me look on her.
Math. As you regard your honour!
Hip. Honour! smoke!

Math. Or, if you loved her living, spare her now.
Duke. Aye, well done, sir; you play the gen-

tleman:

Steal hence; 'tis nobly done; away! I'll join
My force to your's, to stop this violent torment.
Pass on.
[Exeunt with Funeral.
Hip. Matheo, thou dost wound me more-
Math. I give you physic, noble friend, not
wounds.

Prodigious-i. e. portentous; so deformed as to be taken for a foretoken of evil. See Dr Johnson's and Mr Steevens's Notes on King John, A. 3. S. 1.

2 A barbarous Moor.-I suspect there is an allusion here to the character of Aaron the Moor, in Titus

Andronicus.

Duke. Oh, well said, well done, a true gentle- | the week to die in; and she was well, and eat a

man;

Alack! I know the sea of lovers rage

Comes rushing with so strong a tide, it beats
And bears down all respects of life, of honour,
Of friends, of foes. Forget her, gallant youth.
Hip. Forget her?

Duke. Nay, nay, but be patient:

For why? death's band hath sued a strict divorce
'Twixt her and thee. What's beauty but a corse?
What but fair sand-dust are earth's purest forms?
Queens' bodies are but trunks to put in worms.
Math. Speak no more sentences, my good lord,
but slip hence; you see they are but fits; I'll
rule him, I warrant ye. Aye, so, tread gingerly;
your grace is here somewhat too long already.
Sblood! the jest were now, if, having ta'en some
knocks o'the pate already, he should get loose
again, and, like a mad ox, toss my new black
cloaks into the kennel. I must humour his lord-
ship.—My lord Hipolito, is it in your stomach to
go to dinner?
[Exit Duke.
Hip. Where is the body?
Math. The body, as the duke spoke very wise-
ly, is gone to be wormed.
Hip. I cannot rest; l'il meet it at next turn.
I'll see how my love looks.

[MATHEO holds him in's arms. Math. How your love looks! worse than a scarecrow. Wrestle not with me: 3 the great fellow gives the fall for a ducat.

Hip. I shall forget myself.

Math. Pray do so; leave yourself behind yourself, and go whither you will. 'Sfoot! do you long to have base rogues, that maintain a Saint | Anthony's fire in their noses by nothing but twopenny ale, make ballads of you? If the duke had but so much metal in him, as is in a cobler's awl, he would ha' been a vexed thing; he and his train had blown you up, but that their powder has taken the wet of cowards: you'll blood three pottles of Alicant, by this light, if you follow 'em; and then we shall have a hole made in a wrong place, to have surgeons roll thee up, like a baby, in swaddling clouts.

4

Hip. What day is to-day, Matheo? Math. Yea, marry, this is an easy question: why, to-day is, let me see, Thursday.

Hip. Oh, Thursday!

Math. Here's a coil for a dead commodity! 'sfoot, women, when they are alive, are but dead commodities; for you shall have one woman lie upon many men's hands.

Hip. She died on Monday then.

mess of water-gruel, on Monday morning.
Hip. Aye? it cannot be

Such a bright taper should burn out so soon.

Math. O, yes, my lord. So soon! why, I ha' known them at dinner have been as well, and had so much health, that they were glad to pledge it; yet, before three o'clock, have been found dead drunk.

Hip. On Thursday buried! and on Monday died! Quick haste, by'r lady: sure her winding-sheet Was laid out 'fore her body; and the worms, That now must feast with her, were even bespoke, And solemnly invited, like strange guests.

Math. Strange feeders they are indeed, my lord; and, like your jester, or young courtier, will enter upon any man's trencher without bidding.

Hip. Cursed be that day for ever, that robbed
her

Of breath, and me of bliss! henceforth let it stand
Within the wizard's book (the kalendar)
Marked with a marginal finger, to be chosen
By thieves, by villains, and black murderers,
As the best day for them to labour in.
If henceforth this adulterous bawdy world
Be got with child with treason, sacrilege,
Atheism, rapes, treacherous friendship, perjury,
Slander (the beggar's sin), lies (the sin of fools),
Or any other damned impieties,
On Monday let them be delivered.
I swear to thee, Matheo, by my soul,
Hereafter, weekly, on that day I'll glew
Mine eye-lids down, because they shall not gaze
On any female cheek; and being locked up
In my close chamber, there I'll meditate
On nothing but my Infelice's end,
Or on a dead man's scull draw out mine own.

Math. You'll do all these good works now every Monday, because it is so bad; but I hope upon Tuesday morning I shall take you with a wench.

Hip. If ever, whilst frail blood through my

veins run,

On woman's beams I throw affection,
Save her that's dead; or that I loosely fly
To the shore of any other wafting eye,
Let me not prosper, heaven! I will be true,
Even to her dust and ashes; could her tomb
Stand, whilst I lived so long, that it might rot,
That should fall down, but she be ne'er forgot.

Math. If you have this strange monster, honesty, in your belly, why so jig-makers and chroniclers shall pick something out of you; but

Math. And that's the most villainous day of all and I smell not you and a bawdy-house out with

3 The great fellow gives the fall for a ducat.-See As you like it, A. 1. S. 2.

4 Three pottles of Alicant.-This wine appears to have been a favourite liquor at the time Dekkar wrote. Blount, in his Glossographia, says, it is called from " Alicante, the chiefest town of Murcia is Spain, where great store of mulberries grow, the juice whereof makes the true Alicant wine." 5 Jig-makers-1. e. ballad-makers. See Note 35 to Edward II.

VOL. I.

3 U

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Fust. There's for thy pains; God-a-mercy, if ever I stand in need of a wench that will come with a wet finger, porter, thou shalt earn my money before any Clarissimo in Milan; yet so, God sa' me, she's mine own sister, body and soul, as I am a Christian gentleman. Farewell, I'll ponder till she come: thou hast been no bawd in fetching this woman, I assure thee.

Porter. No matter if I had, sir; better men than porters are bawds.

Fust. O God, sir, many that have borne offices. But, porter, art sure thou went'st into a true house?

Porter. I think so, for I met with no thieves. Fust. Nay, but art sure it was my sister Viola? Porter. I am sure, by all superscriptions, it was the party you cyphered.

Fust. Not very tall?

Porter. Nor very low, a middling woman. Fust. 'Twas she, faith, 'twas she; a pretty plump check, like mine.

Porter. At a blush, a little very much like you. Fust. Godso, I would not for a ducat she had kicked up her heels, for I ha' spent an abomination this voyage; marry, I did it amongst sailors and gentlemen. There's a little modicum more, porter, for making thee stay: farewell, honest porter.

Porter. I am in your debt, sir; God preserve you. [Exit. Fust. Not so neither, good porter: Godslid! yonder she comes.

Enter VIOLA.

Sister Viola, I am glad to see you stirring; 'tis news to have me here, is't not, sister?

Viola. Yes, trust me; I wondered who should be so bold to send for me. You are welcome to Milan, brother.

Fust. Troth, sister, I heard you were married to a very rich chuff, and I was very sorry for it,

that I had no better clothes, and that made me send; for, you know, we Milaners love to strut upon Spanish leather. And how does all our friends?

Viola. Very well; you ha' travelled enough now, I trow, to sow your wild oats.

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Fust. A pox on 'em; wild oats! I ba' not an oat to throw at a horse. Troth, sister, I ha' sowed my oats, and reaped two hundred ducats, if I had 'em here. Marry, I must entreat you to lend me some thirty or forty, till the ship come; by this hand, I'll discharge at my day, by this hand. Viola. These are your old oaths.

Fust. Why, sister, do you think I'll forswear my hand?

Viola. Well, well, you shall have them. Put yourself into better fashion, because I must employ you in a serious matter.

ter.

Fust. I'll sweat like a horse, if I like the mat

Viola. You ha' cast off all your old swaggering humours?

Fust. I had not sailed a league in that great fish-pond (the sea) but I cast up my very gall. Viola. I am the more sorry, for I must employ a true swaggerer.

Fust. Nay, by this iron, sister, they shall find I am powder and touch-box, if they put fire once into me.

Viola. Then lend me your ears.

Fust. Mine ears are your's, dear sister. Viola. I am married to a man that has wealth enough, and wit enough.

Fust. A linen draper, I was told, sister.

Viola. Very true, a grave citizen; I want nothing that a wife can wish from a busband; but here's the spite, he has not all things belonging to

a man.

Fust. God's my life, he's a very 6 mandrake; or else (God bless us) one o' these whiblins, and that's worse; and then all the children that he gets lawfully of your body, sister, are bastards by

a statute.

Viola. O, you run over me too fast, brother. I have heard it often said, that he who cannot be angry is no man. I am sure my husband is a man in print for all things else, save only in this, no tempest can move him.

Fust. 'Slid, would he had been at sea with us, he should ha' been moved and moved again; for I'll be sworn, la, our drunken ship reel'd like a Dutchman.

6 Mandrake." A plant bearing yellow round apples; the root of it is great and white like a radish root, and is divided into two or more parts, growing sometimes like the legs of a man." Blount's Glussographia.

See Mr Steevens's Note on the Second Part of Henry IV. A. 3. S. 2.

7 In print.-Exactly, perfectly. So, in Laugh and lie downe, or the World's Folly, 1605. Sign. D. 3 :— "His looks were so demuir, his words were so in print, his graces so in order, and his conceits so in

tune," &c.

See also the Notes of Mr Steevens and Mr Tyrwhitt on Love's Labour Lost, p. 419. edit. 1778.

Viola. No loss of goods can increase in him a wrinkle; no crabbed language make his countenance sour; the stubbornness of no servant shake him; he has no more gall in him than a dove, no more sting than an ant; musician will he never be, (yet I find much music in him,) but he loves no frets; and is so free from anger, that many times I am ready to bite off my tongue, because it wants that virtue which all women's tongues have, to anger their husbands: brother, mine can by no thunder turn him into a sharpness.

Fust. Belike his blood, sister, is well brew'd then.

Viola. I protest to thee, Fustigo, I love him most affectionately; but I know not-I ha' such a tickling within me-such a strange longing; nay, verily, I do long.

Fust. Then you're with child, sister, by all signs and tokens; nay, I am partly a physician, and partly something else. I ha' read 8 Albertus Magnus, and Aristotle's problems.

Viola. Repair to the Tortoise here in St Christopher's street, I will send you money; turn yourself into a brave man instead of the arms of your mistress, let your sword and your military scarf hang about your neck.

Fust, I must have a great horseman's French feather too,.sister.

Viola. O, by any means, to shew your light head, else your hat will sit like a coxcomb; to be brief, you must be in all points a most terrible wide mouth'd swaggerer.

Fust. Nay, for swaggering points let me alone. Viola. Resort then to our shop, and (in my husband's presence) kiss me, snatch rings, jewels, or any thing, so you give it back again, brother, in secret.

Fust. By this hand, sister.

Viola. Swear as if you came but new from knighting.

Fust. Nay, I'll swear after 400 a year. Viola. Swagger worse than a lieutenant among Viola. You're wide a'the bow-hand still, brother; fresh-water soldiers; call me your love, your my longings are not wanton, but wayward: I longingle, your cousin, or so; but sister, at no hand. to have any patient husband eat up a whole porcupine, to the intent the bristling quills may stick about his lips like a Flemish mustachio, and be shot at me; I shall be leaner than the new moon, unless I can make him horn-mad.

Fust. 'Sfoot, half a quarter of an hour does that make him a cuckold.

Viola. Poh, he would count such a cut no un

kindness.

Fust. The honester citizen he. Then make him drunk, and cut off his beard.

Viola. Fie, fic; idle, idle; he's no Frenchman, to fret at the loss of a little scal'd hair. No, brother, thus it shall be; you must be secret. Fust. As your midwife, I protest, sister, or a barber-surgeon.

Fust. No, no, it shall be cousin, or rather cuz; that's the gulling word between the citizens' wives and their old dames that man 'em to the garden; to call you one o'mine aunts, sister, were as good as call you errant whore; no, no, let me alone to couzen you rarely.

Viola. He has heard I have a brother, but never saw him, therefore put on a good face. Fust. The best in Milan, I warrant. Viola. Take up wares, but pay nothing; rifle my bosom, my pocket, my purse, the boxes for money to dice withal; but, brother, you must give all back again in secret.

Fust. By this welkin that here roars, I will, or else let me never know what a secret is. Why, sister, do you think I'll coney-catch you when

12

Albertus Magnus. i. e. de Secretis Mulierum. S.

9 Make him drunk, and cut off his beard.-To cut off the hair of any person was, in our author's time, a mark of disgrace, and esteemed a very great indignity. From the following passage in a Pamphlet, called "The admirable deliverance of 266 Christians, by John Reynard, Englishman, from the captivity "of the Turkes, who had been Gally-slaves many years in Alexandria, 1608." Sign. B. 2. it seems to have been a practice made use by the Turks, towards their prisoners," hither were these Christians brought; the first villany and indignitie that was done unto them, was the shaving off all the hayre both of heade and beard, thereby to rob them of those ornaments which all Christians make much of, because they best become them."

10 Scal'd hair.—i. e. scattered, or dispersed hair. Mr Lambe, in his Notes on Flodden Field, observes, that the word scale is used in the North in the above-mentioned sense. See also Mr Steevens's Note on Coriolanus.

11 Aunts.-Aunt was a cant word for a woman of no virtue, generally for a bawd. So, in Dekker's Bel-man's Night-walkes, Sign. G: "Be not so guld, be not so dull in understanding: do thou but follow aloofe those two tame pigeons, and thou shalt find, that her new uncle lies by it all that night, to make his kins-woman one of mine aunts." See also Mr Steevens's Note on Winter's Tale, A. 4. S. 2.

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12 Coney-catch.-Coney-catch is to cheat or defraud. So, a coney-catcher was the common name of a cheat or sharper. In Blunt Master Constable, 1602, A. 4. Curvetto says: Felony? you cony-catching slave." To which Frisco replies: "Coney-catching will bear an action. I'll cony-catch you for this." Robert Green, who, Dr Johnson observes, was one of the first amongst us who made a trade of writing Pamphlets, published several describing the different modes of cheating or cony-catching, used in his time.

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