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{The gang, ranged in the front of the stage, load their pistols, and stick them under their girdles, then go off, Jinging the first part in chorus. Mac. What a fool is a fond wench Polly is most confoundedly bit. I love the sex; and a man who loves money, might as well be contented with one guinea, as I with one woman. The town, perhaps, hath been as much obliged to me, for recruiting it with free-hearted ladies, as to any recruiting officer in the army. If it were not for us, and the other gentlemen of the sword, Drury-lane would be uninhabited.

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Before the barn-door crowing,
The cock, by hens attended,
His eyes around him throwing,
Stands for a while suspended :
Then one he fingles from the crew,
And chears the happy hen,
With how do you do, and how do you do,
And how do you do again.

Mac. Ah, Jenny, thou art a dear flut. Trull. Pray, Madam, were you ever in keeping! 7awd. I hope, Madam, I han’t been so long upon the town, but I have met with some good fortune, as well as my neighbours.

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A I R XXIV. When once I lay with another man’s wife, &c.

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