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thing to pay for at least a month's clothing We
run great risks great risks indeed.
Peach. As I remember, you said something just now of Mrs. Coaxer. s9S
Trapes. Yes, sir,—to be sure I stripped her of a suit of my own clothes about two hours ago, and have left her, as she should be, in her shift, with a lover of her's, at my house. She called him up stairs as he
was going to Marybone in a hackney-coach and I
hope, for her own sake and mine, she will persuade the Captain to redeem her, for the Captain is very generous to the ladies.
Loch. What Captain?
Trapes. He thought I did not know him an intimate acquaintance of your's, Mr. Peachum onty
Captain Macheath as fine as a lord. 310
Peach. To-morrow, dear Mrs. Dye! you shall set
your own price upon any of the goods you like
We have at least half a dozen velvet scarfs, and all at your service. Will you give me leave to make you a present of this suit of night-clothes for your
own wearing? But are you sure it is Captain
Trapes. Though he thinks I have forgot him, nobody knows him better. I have taken a great deal of the Captain's money in my time at second hand, for he always loved to have his ladies well drest. 32i
Peach. Mr. Lockit and I have a little business with
the Captain you understand me and we will
satisfy you for Mrs. Coaxer's debt.
Loch. Depend upon it—we will deal like men of honour.
Trapes. I don't inquire after your affairs—so whatever happens, I wash my hands on't—It hath always been my maxim, that one friend should assist another —But if you please, I'll take one of the scarfs home with me; 'tis always good to have something in hand. [Exeunt.
Jealousy, rage, love, and fear, are at once tearing me to pieces. How I am weather-beaten and shattered with distresses! 335
One evening having lost my way.
I'm lihe a shiff on the ocean tost,
While thus I lie rolling and tossing all night, 340
I have the ratsbane ready I run no risk, for I can
lay her death upon the gin, and so many die of that naturally, that I shall never be called in question
But say I were to be hanged I never could be
hanged for any thing that would give me greater comfort than the poisoning that slut. 349
Enter Filch. Filch. Madam, here's Miss Polly come to wait upon you.
Lucy. Shew her in.
Enter Polly. Dear Madam! your servant. I hope you will pardon my passion when I was so happy to see you last— I was so over-run with the spleen, that I was perfectly eut of myself; and really when one hath the spleen, every thing is to be excused by a friend.
Now, Roger, I'll tell thee, because thou'rt my son.
When a wife's in her pout
—I wish all our quarrels might have so comfortable a reconciliation.
Polly. I have no excuse for my own behaviour,
Madam, but my misfortunes and really, Madam,
I suffer too upon your account. 369 Lucy. But, Miss Polly in the way of friendship,
will you give me leave to propose a glass of cordial to
Polly. Strong waters are apt to give me the headache.—I hope, Madam, you will excuse me.
Lucy. Not the greatest lady in the land could have
better in her closet for her own private drinking
You seem mighty low in spirits, my dear!
Polly. I am sorry, Madam, my health will not allow me to accept of your offer I should not have
left you in the rude manner I did when we met last, Madam, had not my papa hauled me away so unexpectedly I was, indeed, somewhat provoked, and
perhaps might use some expressions that were disrespectful but really, Madam, the Captain treated
me with so much contempt and cruelty, that I deserved your pity rather than your resentment.
Lucy. But since his escape, no doubt all matters are
made up again Ah, Polly! Polly! 'tis I am the
unhappy wife, and he loves you, as if you were only his mistress. 390
Polly. Sure, Madam, you cannot think me so happy as to be the object of your jealousy—A man is always afraid of a woman who loves him too well—so that I must expect to be neglected and avoided.
Lucy. Then our cases, my dear Polly, are exactly alike: both of us indeed have been too fond.
O Bessy Bell, (Sc.
Polly. A curse attends that woman's love
Lucy. The pertness of the billing dove,
Polly. What then in love can woman do?
Lucy. Love is so very whimsical in both sexes that it is impossible to be lasting—but my heart is particular, and contradicts my own observation.
Polly. But really, Mistress Lucy, by his last behaviour I think I ought to envy you—When I was forced from him, he did not shew the least tenderness —but perhaps he hath a heart not capable of it. 411
Wou'd fate to me Belinda give.
Among the men coquettes we find