Mac. Be pacified, my dear Lucy-This is all a fetch of Polly's to make me defperate with you in cafe I get off. If I am hanged, 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?

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

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

Decency, Madam, methinks, might teach you to behave yourself with some reserve with the husband, while his wife is prefent.

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

Lucy. If you are determined, 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, Madam, you force me to be fo ill-bred.

Polly. Give me leave to tell you, Madam; thefe forward airs don't become you in the leaft, Madam. And

my

my duty, Madam, obliges me to ftay with my husband, Madam.

AIR XXXVIII. Good-morrow, Gefip Joan.

Lucy. Why how now, Madam Flirt?

If you thus must chatter,

And are for flinging dirt,

Let's try who beft can spatter;

Madam Flirt!

Polly. Why how now, faucy jade;
Sure the wench is tipfy!

How can you fee me made
The fcoff of fuch a gypfy?

[To bim.

Saucy jade!

[To her.

Enter Peachum.

Peach. Where's my wench? Ah, huffy! huffy !Come you home, you flut; and when your fellow is hanged, 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 fay to him-Oh, twist thy fetters about me, that he may not haul me from thee!

Peach. Sure all women are alike! If ever they commit one 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 failer bind.

Oh, Oh ray, Oh, Amborah-Oh, Oh, &c.
[Holding Macheath, Peachum pulling ber.
[Exeunt Peachum and Polly.

Mac. I am naturally compaffionate, wife; fo that I could not use the wench as the deserved; which made you at firft fufpect there was fomething in what she said.

D 3

Lucy.

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

Mac. 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.

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 hanged than in the arms of another.

Mac. But couldst thou bear to fee me hanged?

in

Lucy. Oh, Macheath, I can never live to fee that day. Mac. You fee, Lucy, in the account of love you are my debt; and you must now be convinced, that I rather chufe to die than be another's.-Make me, if poffible, love thee more, and let me owe my life to thee If you refufe to affift me, Peachum and your father will immediately put me beyond all means of escape.

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

Mac. If we are together, 'twill be impoffible to lie concealed. 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 grateful---But that Polly runs in my head ftrangely.

Mac. A moment of time may make us unhappy for

ever.

AIR XL. The Lafs of Patie's Mill.

Lacy. I like the fox fhall grieve,

Whose mate hath left her fide,
Whom hounds, from morn to eve,
Chafe o'er the country wide,
Where can my lover hide?
Where cheat the wary pack?

If love be not his guide,

He never will come back.

END of the SECOND ACT.

[Exeunt

ACT

T

A C T III.

SCENE, Newgate.

Lockit, Lucy.

LOCKIT.

O be fure, wench, you must have been aiding and abetting to help him to this efcape.

Lucy. Sir, here hath been Peachum and his daughter Polly, and to be fure they know the ways of Newgate as well as if they had been born and bred in the place all their lives. Why must all your fufpicion light upon

me?

Lock. Lucy, Lucy, I will have none of these fhuffling anfwers.

Lucy. Well then-If I know any thing of him, I wish I may be burnt!

Lock. Keep your temper, Lucy, or I fhall pronounce you guilty.

Lucy. Keep yours, Sir,I do wish I may be burnt. I doAnd what can I fay more to con

vince you?

Lock. Did he tip handfomely ?How much did he come down with ? Come, huffy, don'tcheat your father; and I shall not be angry with youPerhaps, you have made a better bargain with him than I could have -How much, my good girl?

done

+

Lucy. You know, Sir, I am fond of him, and would have given money to have kept him with me.

Lock. Ah, Lucy! thy education might have put thee more upon thy guard; for a girl in the bar of an alehouse is always befieged.

Lucy. Dear Sir, mention not my education'twas to that I owe my ruin.

'AIR XLI. If love's a feet passion, &c.

for

When young at the bar you first taught me to score,
And bid me be free of my lips, and no more;
I was kiss'd by the parfon, the fquire, and the fot:
When the guest was departed, the kifs was forgot.

But

But his kifs was fo fweet, and fo clofely he prest,
That I languish'd and pin'd till I granted the rest.’

If you can forgive me, Sir, I will make a fair confeffion ; for, to be fure, he hath been a moft barbarous villain to

me.

Lock. And fo you have let him efcape, huffy-have you?

Lucy. When a woman loves, a kind look, a tender word, can perfuade her to any thing- and I could ask no other

bribe.

Lock. Thou wilt always be a vulgar flut. Lucy-If. you would not be looked upon as a fool, you should never do any thing but upon the foot of intereft. Those that act otherwise are their own bubbles.

Lucy. But love, Sir, is a misfortune that may happen to the most difcreet women; and in love we are all fools alikeNotwithstanding, all he fwore, I am now fully convinced that Polly Peachum is actually his wife. Did I let him efcape (fool that I was!) to go to her? Polly will wheedle herself into his money, and then Peachum will hang him, and cheat us both.

Lock. So I am to be ruined, becaufe, forfooth, you must be in love! a very pretty excufe! Lucy. I could murder that impudent happy ftrumpet: I gave him his life, and that creature enjoys the Ungrateful Macheath!

fweets of it.

AIR XLII. South-Sea ballad.

My love is all madness and folly,
Alone I lye,

Tofs, tumble, and cry,

What a happy creature is Polly!"
Was e'er fuch a wretch as I!
With rage I redden like fearlet,
That my dear inconstant varlet,
Stark blind to my charms,
Is loft in the arms

Of that jilt, that inveigling harlot !
Stark blind to my charms,

Is loft in the arms

Of that jilt, that inveigling harlot !
This, this my refentment alarms.

Lock.