WHAT SHE WANTS / OBJECTIVES TO PLAY
• To win the natural world’s approval for the sin she is about to commit, and to draw on its strength to give her the courage to see the liaison through.
• To abandon herself totally to this moment of longing: there will be no going back and she wants to go ahead with full awareness.
Tamyra
Farewell, my light and life. But not in him,
(In mine own dark love and light bent to another.)
Alas, that in the wane of our affections
We should supply it with a full dissembling,
In which each youngest maid is grown a mother.
Frailty is fruitful, one sin gets another:
Our loves like sparkles are, that brightest shine
When they go out; most vice shows most divine.
Go maid, to bed; lend me your book, I pray:
Not, like yourself, for form; I’ll this night trouble
None of your services: make sure the doors,
And call your other fellows to their rest.
[PERO (aside). I will, yet I will watch to know why you watch.]
Now all the peaceful regents of the night,
Silently-gliding exhalations,
Languishing winds, and murmuring falls of waters,
Sadness of heart and ominous secureness,
Enchantments, dead sleeps, all the friends of rest,
That ever wrought upon the life of man,
Extend your utmost strengths, and this charm’d hour
Fix like the Centre! Make the violent wheels
Of Time and Fortune stand, and great Existence,
The Maker’s treasury, now not seem to be,
To all but my approaching friends and me!
They come, alas, they come! Fear, fear and hope
Of one thing, at one instant, fight in me:
I love what most I loathe, and cannot live,
Unless I compass that which holds my death:
For love is hateful without love again,
And he I love, will loathe me, when he sees
I fly my sex, my virtue, my renown,
To run so madly on a man unknown.
The vault opens.
See, see, the gulf is opening that will swallow
Me and my fame for ever; I will in,
And cast myself off, as I ne’er had been.
GLOSSARY
make sure secure
exhalations shooting stars
wrought upon practised charms on
the Centre the unmoving pivot of the universe
compass accomplish
I will in . . . ne’er been I will dive into oblivion
The Honest Whore
Thomas Dekker (1604)
WHO Bellafront, an ex-prostitute.
WHERE In the home Bellafront shares with her husband Matheo.
TO WHOM Hippolyto, a gentleman: an old friend of Matheo.
WHEN Contemporary with authorship.
WHAT HAS JUST HAPPENED In the previous part of the play, Bellafront, the honest whore of the title, had undergone a moral conversion after being read the riot act by Hippolyto vis-à-vis prostitution. She became honest, and married Matheo, with whom she had slept while still a prostitute. But Matheo has snubbed Bellafront’s marital devotion, and instead wants her to return to prostitution to earn money. So she has petitioned the happily married Hippolyto to act on her behalf and talk with Matheo. But far from being on her side, Hippolyto himself thinks it is not such a bad idea, with a mind to partaking of her wares himself. This is her response.
WHAT SHE WANTS / OBJECTIVES TO PLAY
• To stoutly reject him and his advances, using much the same language that he used when rejecting her in the first part of the play.
• To drum some sense into him by lecturing him on the history of the woman’s sexual lot in life.
• To remind him that once he has sated his appetite for the prostitute, she inevitably becomes worthless and devalued in his eyes.
• To belittle him: he is offering to dishonour her husband, and his friend’s, bed.
• To put him on the spot with all his talk of how prostitution isn’t necessarily a dishonourable way of life by asking why he doesn’t suggest his wife take it up.
• To shame him by wiping the floor with him intellectually, morally and personally.
Bellafront
To prove a woman should not be a whore:
When she was made, she had one man and no more;
Yet she was tied to laws then, for, even then,
’Tis said, she was not made for men, but man.
Anon, t’increase earth’s brood, the law was varied,
Men should take many wives, and though they married
According to that act, yet ’tis not known
But that those wives were only tied to one.
New parliaments were since: for now one woman
Is shar’d between three hundred – nay, she’s common.
Common? As spotted leopards, whom for sport
Men hunt to get the flesh, but care not for’t.
So spread they nets of gold and tune their calls
To enchant silly women to take falls,
Swearing they are angels, which that they may win
They’ll hire the devil to come with false dice in.
Oh, Sirens’ subtle tunes! Yourselves you flatter
And our weak sex betray. So men love water:
It serves to wash their hands but, being once foul,
The water down is pour’d, cast out of doors,
And even of such base use do men make whores.
A harlot, like a hen, more sweetness reaps
To pick men one by one up, than in heaps,
Yet all feeds but confounding. Say you should taste me:
I serve but for the time, and when the day
Of war is done, am cashier’d out of pay.
If like lame soldiers I could beg, that’s all,
And there’s lust’s rendezvous: an hospital.
Who then would be a man’s slave, a man’s woman?
She’s half-starv’d the first day that feeds in common.
[HIPPOLYTO. If all the threads of harlots’ lives are spun
So coarse as you would make them, tell me why
You so long lov’d the trade?]
If all the threads
Of harlots’ lives be fine as you would make them,
Why do not you persuade your wife turn whore,
And all dames else to fall before that sin?
Like an ill husband (though I knew the same
To be my undoing) follow’d I that game.
Oh, when the work of lust had earn’d my bread,
To taste it, how I trembled, lest each bit,
Ere it went down, should choke me chewing it!
My bed seem’d like a cabin hung in hell,
The bawd hell’s porter, and the lickerish wine
The pander fetch’d was like an easy fine,
For which methought I leas’d away my soul:
And oftentimes even in my quaffing bowl
Thus said I to myself: ‘I am a whore
And have drunk down thus much confusion more’ [ . . . ]
Why dote you on that which you did once detest?
I cannot (seeing she’s woven of such bad stuff)
Set colours on a harlot base enough.
GLOSSARY
Sirens the legendary sea-demons whose beautiful songs lured sailors onto the rocks
all feeds but confounding only destruction is nourished
cashier’d out of pay discharged without payment
in common at the communal trough
lickerish inflammatory of lust
pander pimp, procurer
fine financial contract
quaffing bowl punch-bowl
The Dutch Courtesan
John Marston (1604)
WHO Beatrice, a young lady, late teens / earl
y 20s.
WHERE At her window, early morning.
TO WHOM Her husband-to-be, Freevill.
WHEN Contemporary with authorship.
WHAT HAS JUST HAPPENED Freevill is sexually and emotionally involved with Franceschina, the ‘Dutch Courtesan’ of the title, but he is supposed to marry Beatrice, whom he is currently serenading. This is the first time we see Beatrice in the play. She is everything Franceschina is not in her demure nature and formality. And she is clearly devoted to him, blissfully oblivious to his compromised virtue.
WHAT SHE WANTS / OBJECTIVES TO PLAY
• To respond appropriately and with all due respect to his singing his devotion to her at her window.
• To assure him that her love, though couched in far simpler terms than his for her, is its equal and that she is his.
• To make some deal with the offering of the ring that binds them in an entirely personal and informal way, as opposed to just reinforcing what is a formal engagement.
• To somewhat calm his ardour: his love is extreme, and she is by nature temperate.
Beatrice
Lov’d sir,
The honour of your wish return to you.
I cannot with a mistress’ compliment,
Forcèd discourses, or nice art of wit
Give entertain to your dear wish’d presence;
But safely thus: what hearty gratefulness,
Unsullen silence, unaffected modesty,
And an unignorant shamefastness can express,
Receive as your protested due. Faith, my heart,
I am your servant.
O let not my secure simplicity
Breed your mislike, as one quite void of skill;
’Tis grace enough in us not to be ill.
I can some good, and, faith, I mean no hurt;
Do not, then, sweet, wrong sober ignorance.
I judge you all of virtue, and our vows
Should kill all fears that base distrust can move.
My soul, what say you? Still you love? [ . . . ]
Dear my loved heart, be not so passionate;
Nothing extreme lives long. [ . . . ]
I give you faith; and, prithee, since,
Poor soul, I am so easy to believe thee,
Make it much more pity to deceive me.
Wear this slight favour in my remembrance.
GLOSSARY
nice art of wit sophisticated intellectual expression
unignorant shamefastness knowing modesty
your protested due the due qualities I protest are yours
secure trusting
ill wicked
I can I am able to do
all of virtue entirely virtuous
The Dutch Courtesan
John Marston (1604)
WHO Crispinella, plain-speaking daughter of Sir Hubert Subboys and sister to the refined, virtuous and modest Beatrice. 20s.
WHERE In the sisters’ family home.
TO WHOM Talking in private with her sister Beatrice, who is betrothed to Freevill. Their nanny is also present.
WHEN Contemporary with authorship.
WHAT HAS JUST HAPPENED The sisters are quite different from each other. Crispinella is tired of hearing her infatuated sister droning on about her husband-to-be, Freevill, who has recently sent a sonnet written by him in honour of Beatrice’s kiss. Beatrice has been reciting it. Crispinella is direct in her speech, and she finds Freevill’s influence on her sister, though she does largely approve of him, just too much to bear.
WHAT SHE WANTS / OBJECTIVES TO PLAY
• To provoke her sister out of the dewy-eyed misty stage of being in love, and to bring her rudely up to measure with the reality of it all.
• To undermine Beatrice, and to have a good laugh at her expense, though not in a cruel way.
• To alert her virginal sister to what lies in store – imagine a rather brusque sex education class!
• To assert her plain-speaking, speak-as-I-find nature as a virtue, free from hypocrisy and prissiness and in stark contrast to what her sister perceives of as ‘normal’.
Crispinella
Pish, sister Beatrice! Prithee read no more; my stomach
o’late stands against kissing extremely.
[BEATRICE. Why, good Crispinella?]
By the faith and trust I bear to my face, ’tis grown one of the
most unsavoury ceremonies. Body o’beauty! ’tis one of the
most unpleasing, injurious customs to ladies. Any fellow that
has but one nose on his face, and standing-collar and skirts
also lined with taffety sarcenet, must salute us on the lips as
familiarly – Soft skins save us! There was a stub-bearded
John-a-Stile with a ployden’s face saluted me last day and
struck his bristles through my lips. I ha’ spent ten shillings in
pomatum since to skin them again! Marry, if a nobleman or a
knight with one lock visit us, though his unclean goose-turd-
green teeth ha’ the palsy, his nostrils smell worse than a
putrefied marrowbone, and his loose beard drops into our
bosom, yet we must kiss him with a cur’sy. A curse! For my
part, I had as lief they would break wind in my lips.
[BEATRICE. Fie, Crispinella! You speak too broad.]
No jot, sister. Let’s ne’er be ashamed to speak what we be
not ashamed to think. I dare as boldly speak venery as think
venery.
[BEATRICE. Faith sister, I’ll be gone if you speak so broad.]
Will you so? No basfulness seize you! We pronounce boldly
robbery, murder, treason, which deeds must needs be far
more loathsome than an act which is so natural, just, and
necessary as that of procreation. You shall have an
hypocritical vestal virgin speak that with close teeth publicly
own part, I consider nature without apparel; without
disguising of custom or compliment, I give thoughts words,
and words truth, and truth boldness. She whose honest
freeness makes it her virtue to speak what she thinks, will
make it her necessity to think what is good. I love no
prohibited things, and yet I would have nothing prohibited
by policy, but by virtue; for, as in the fashion of the time,
those books that are called in are most in sale and request,
so in nature those actions that are most prohibited are most
desired.
[BEATRICE. Good, quick sister, stay your pace. We are private, but
the world would censure you; for truly, severe modesty is women’s
virtue.]
Fie, fie! Virtue is a free, pleasant, buxom quality. I love a
constant countenance well; but this forward, ignorant
coyness, sour, austere, lumpish, uncivil privateness, that
promises nothing but rough skins and hard stools – ha! Fie
o’t! Good for nothing but for nothing. – Well, nurse, and
what do you conceive of all this?
GLOSSARY
standing-collar fashionably starched lace collar
taffety sarcenet fine silk
John-a-Stile with a ployden’s face Mr So-and-so with the face of a lawyer
pomatum face lotion
skin restore skin to
palsy disease
with a cur’sey politely, deferentially
too broad too vulgarly
venery sex
vestal virgin maidens of chastity
called in censored, banned
lumpish dull of spirit
A Mad World, My Masters
Thomas Middleton (1605)
WHO ‘Mother’. Mother to prostitute Frances Gullman, and also her pimp. 30s plus. A woman of the world.
WHERE In a Lo
ndon street.
TO WHOM Her daughter.
WHEN Contemporary with authorship.
WHAT HAS JUST HAPPENED Frances is as colourful a character as her mother. She is the sole mistress of the wealthy – and very old – Sir Bounteous Progress. As Mother hands Frances a gift from Sir Bounteous, we learn he is only one of many suitors. Her mother is feeling insecure about her daughter’s flightiness; she wants her to settle down and knows that Sir Bounteous, despite his assurances, is never going to propose.
WHAT SHE WANTS / OBJECTIVES TO PLAY
• To persuade her daughter to marry the next gullible, wealthy man.
• To warn her daughter that she is running out of tricks as regards selling her daughter’s ‘virginity’ – which she has sold 15 times now. Making business is getting harder, the older Frances gets.
• To warn her daughter they are living in times when the world and even its dullest inhabitants are getting smarter.
• To remind her daughter that marriage and the respected title of wife will help, not hinder, her trade as a prostitute – ‘a virtuous name may sin at pleasure, and ne’er think of shame’.
Mother
Every part of the world shoots up daily into more subtlety.
The very spider weaves her cauls with more art and
cunning to entrap the fly.
The shallow ploughman can distinguish now
’Twixt simple truth and a dissembling brow.
Your base mechanic fellow can spy out
A weakness in a lord, and learns to flout.
How does’t behove us then, that live by sleight,
To have our wits wound up to their stretch’d height?
Fifteen times thou know’st I have sold thy maidenhead to make
up a dowry for thy marriage: and yet there’s maidenhead
enough for old Sir Bounteous still. He’ll be all his lifetime
about it yet, and be as far to seek when he has done.
The sums that I have told upon thy pillow!
I shall once see those golden days again.
Though fifteen, all thy maidenheads are not gone:
The Italian is not serv’d yet, nor the French;
The British men come for a dozen at once,
They engross all the market. Tut, my girl,
’Tis nothing but a politic conveyance,
A sincere carriage, a religious eyebrow,