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SCENE IX.

Enter Macheath.

Lucy. Though the ordinary was out of the way to day, I hope, my dear, you will, upon the first opportunity, quiet my fcruples-Oh fir!-my father's hard heart is not to be foften'd, and I am in the utmost defpair.

Mach. But if I could raife a fmall fum-would not twenty guineas, think you, move him?-Of all the arguments in the way of bufinefs, the perquifite is the moft prevailing.Your father's perquifites for the efcape of prisoners must amount to a confiderable fum in the year. Money well timed, and properly apply'd, will do any thing.

AIR XXXIII. London ladies.

If you at an office folicit your due,

And would not have matters neglected;

You must quicken the clerk with the perquifite too,
To do what his duty directed.

Or would you the frowns of a lady prevent,

She too has this palpable failing,

The perquifite foftens her into confent;

That reafon with all is prevailing.

Lucy. What love or money can do, fhall be done : or all my comfort.depends upon your fafety.

SCENE X:
Enter Polly.

Polly. Where is my dear husband ?-Was a rope ever intended for this neck!-O let me throw my arms about it, and throttle thee with love!-Why doft thou turn away from me?'Tis thy Polly-'tis thy wife.

Mach. Was ever fuch an unfortunate rafcal as I am!
Lucy. Was there ever fuch another villain !

Polly. O Macheath! was it for this we parted? Taken! Imprifoned! Try'd! Hang'd!-cruel reflection! I'll stay with thee till death- -no force fhall tear thy dear wife from thee now.-What means my love? Not one kind word! not one kind look! think what hy Polly fuffers to fee thee in this condition. AIR

AIR XXXIV. All in the Downs, &c.
Thus when the fwallow, feeking prey,
Within the fafb is clufely pent,
His confort with bemoaning lay,

Without fits pining for th' event.

Her chatt'ring lovers all around her skim ;

She beeds them not (poor bird) her soul's with him. Mach. I muft difown her. [Afide.] The wench is distracted.

Lucy. Am I then bilk'd of my virtue ? Can I have no reparation? Sure men were born to lye, and women to believe them! O villain! villain!

Polly. Am I not thy wife?-Thy neglect of me, thy averfion to me, too feverely proves it.-Look on me.Tell me, am I not thy wife?

Lucy. Perfidious wretch!

Polly. Barbarous hufband!

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Lucy. Hadft thou been hang'd five months ago, I had been happy.

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Polly. And I too-If you had been kind to me till death, it would not have vex'd me-And that's no very unreasonable requeft (though from a wife) to a man who hath not above feven or eight days to live.

Lucy. Art thou then married to another? Haft thou two wives, monster?

Mach. If women's tongues can cease for an answer

hear me.

Lucy. I won't.-Flesh and blood can't bear my usage. Polly. Shall Inot claim my own? Juftice bids me fpeak.

AIR XXXV. Have you heard of a frolicksome ditty. Mach. How happy could I be with either,

Were t'other dear charmer away!

But while you thus teaze me together,
To neither a word will I fay;

But tol de rol, &c.

Polly. Sure, my dear, there ought to be fome preference shown to a wife! At least the may claim the appearance of it. He must be distracted with misfortunes, or he cou'd not ufe me thus!

Lucy.

Lucy. O villain, villain! thou haft deceived me-I could even inform against thee with pleasure. Not a prude wishes more heartily to have facts against her intimate acquaintance, than I now wish to have facts against thee. I would have her fatisfaction, and they fhould all out.

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Polly.

My diftreffes are doubled.

Lucy. Bambouzled, and bit! ¡

Lucy. When you come to the tree, fhould the bangman

refuse.

[noose. Thefe fingers, with pleasure, could fasten the

Polly. I'm bubbled, &c.

Mach. Be pacified, my dear Lucy-This is all a fetch of Polly's to make me defperate with you in case I get off. If I am hang'd, the would fain have the credit of being thought my widow-Really, Polly, this is no time for a difpute of this fort; for whenever you are talking of marriage, I am thinking of hanging.

Polly. And haft thou the heart to perfift in difowning

me?

Mach. And haft thou the heart to perfift in perfuading me that I am married? Why, Polly, doft thou feek to aggravate my misfortunes?

Lucy. Really, mifs Peachum, you but expofe yourfelf. Befides, 'tis barbarous in you to worry a gentleman in his circumstances.

AIR XXXVII.

Polly. Ceafe your funning ;
Force or cunning

Never fhall my beart trepan.
All these fallies

Are but malice,

To feduce my conflant man.

'Tis moft certain,

By their flirting,

Women oft have envy shown:

Pleas'd, to ruin

Others wooing;

Never happy in their own!

Polly. Decency, madam, methinks might teach you to behave yourself with some reserve with the hufband, While his wife is prefent.

Mach. But feriously, Polly, this is carrying the joke a little too far.

Lucy. If you are determin'd, madam, to raise a difturbance in the prison, I shall be obliged to fend for the turnkey to fhew you the door. I am forry, madain, you force me to be fo ill-bred.

Polly. Give me leave to tell you, madam; these forward airs don't become you in the leaft, madam. And my duty, madam, obliges me to stay with my husband, madam.

AIR XXXVIII. Good-morrow, goflip Joan.

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Peach. Where's my wench? Ah huffy! huffy!Come you home, you flut; and when your fellow is hang'd, hang yourself, to make your family fome amends.

Polly. Dear, dear father, do not tear me from him-I muft fpeak: I have more to say to him-Oh! twist thy fetters about me, that he may not haul me from thee!

Peach.

Peach. Sure all women are alike! If ever they commit the folly, they are fure to commit another by expofing themselves Away-Not a word more You are my prifoner now, huffy.

AIR XXXIX. Irish Howl.

Polly. No power on earth can e'er divide
The knot that facred love hath ty’d.
When parents draw against our mind,
The true-love's knot they fafter bind.

Oh, oh ray, oh Amborah-oh, ob, &c.

--

[Exeunt Peachum and Polly.

Mach. I am naturally compaffionate, wife; so that I could not use the wench as the deferved; which made you at firft fufpect there was fomething in what she faid.

Lucy. Indeed, my dear, I was ftrangely puzzled.

Mach. If that had been the cafe, her father would never have brought me into this circumftance-No, Lucy.- I had rather die than be false to thee.

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Lucy. How happy am I, if you fay this from your heart! For I love thee fo, that I could fooner bear to fee thee hang'd than in the arms of another.

Mach. But couldft thou bear to see me hang'd? Lucy. O Macheath, I can never live to fee that day. Mach. You fee, Lucy, in the account of love you are in my debt; and you must now be convinced, that if I rather choose to die than be another's -Make me, poffible, love thee more, and let me owe my life to thee-If refufe to affift me, Peachum and you ther will immediately put me beyond all means of efcape.

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Lucy. My father, I know, hath been drinking hard with the prifoners: and I fancy he is now taking his in his own room-If I can procure the keys, fhall go off with thee, my dear?

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Mach. If we are together, 'twill be impoffible to lie conceal'd. As foon as the fearch begins to be a little cool, I will fend to thee-Till then my heart is thy prifoner.

Lucy. Come then, my dear husband-owe thy life to me and though you love me not-be gratefulBut that Polly runs in my head ftrangely.

Mach.

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