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1.F.5. 1.E.2. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. worse and worse! I thought the Girl had been better bred. Oh Husband, Husband! Trapes. Consider, Mr. Peachum, that Watch was remarkable, and not of very safe Sale.—If you have any black Velvet Scarfs—they are a handsom Winter-wear, and take with most Gentlemen who deal with my Customers.—’Tis I that put the Ladies upon a good Foot. ’Tis not Youth or Beauty that fixes their Price. The Gentlemen always pay according to their Dress, from half a Crown to two Guineas; and yet those Hussies make nothing of bilking of me.—Then too, allowing for Accidents.—I have eleven fine Customers now down under the Surgeon’s Hands—what with Fees and other Expenses, there are great Goings-out, and no Comings in, and not a Farthing to pay for at least a Month’s Clothing.—We run great Risques—great Risques indeed.
Peachum. As I remember, you said something just now of Mrs.
Coaxer.
Mrs. thou art a dear Slut.
Jenny. A Man of Courage should never put any thing to the Risk but his Life. These are the Tools of a Man of Honour. Cards and Dice are only fit for cowardly Cheats, who prey upon their Friends.
[She takes up his Pistol. Tawdry takes up the other.
Tawdry. This, Sir, is fitter for your Hand. Besides your Loss of Money, ’tis a Loss to the Ladies. Gaming takes you off from Women. How fond could I be of you!
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when I know she hates me!—The Dissembling of a Woman is always the Forerunner of Mischief.—By pouring Strong-Waters down my Throat, she thinks to pump some Secrets out of me,—I’ll be upon my Guard, and won’t taste a Drop of her Liquor, I’m resolv’d.
Re-enter Lucy, with Strong-Waters.
Lucy. Come, Miss Polly.
Polly. Indeed, Child, you have given yourself trouble to no purpose.—You must, my Dear, excuse me.
Lucy. Really, Miss Polly, you are as squeamishly affected about taking a Cup of Strong-Waters as a Lady before Company. I vow, Polly, I shall take it monstrously ill if you refuse me.—Brandy and Men (though Women love them ever so well) are always taken by us with some Reluctance—unless ’tis in private.
Polly. I protest, Madam, it goes against me.—What do I see! Macheath again in Custody!—Now every Glimm’ring of Happiness is lost.
[Drops the Glass of Liquor on the Ground.
Lucy. Since things are thus, I’m glad the Wench hath escap’d: for by this Event, ’tis plain, she was not happy enough to deserve to be poison’d.
Enter Lockit, Macheath, Peachum.
Lockit. Set your Heart to rest, Captain.—You have neither the Chance of Love or Money for another Escape,—for you are order’d to be call’d down upon your Trial immediately.
Peachum. Away, Hussies!—This is not a Time for a Man to be hamper’d with his Wives.—You see, the Gentleman is in Chains already.
Lucy. O Husband, Husband, my Heart long’d to see thee; but to see thee thus distracts me?
Polly. Will not my dear Husband look upon his Polly? Why hadst thou not flown to me for Protection?
thou hast deceiv’d 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 Satisfaction, and they should all out.
AIR XXXV. Irish Trot.
Polly. I am bubbled.
Lucy. .
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Peachum. Upon Polly’s Account! What, a Plague, does the Woman mean?—Upon Polly’s Account!
Mrs.
General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works 1.A. thou hast robb’d me of my Quiet—to see thee tortur’d would give me Pleasure.
AIR XXVI. A lovely Lass to a Friar came, &c.
Thus when a good Housewife sees a Rat
In her Trap in the Morning taken,
With Pleasure her Heart goes pit-a-pat,
In Revenge for her Loss of Bacon.
Then she throws him
To the Dog or Cat,
To be worried, crush’d and shaken.
Macheath. Have you no Bowels, no Tenderness, my dear Lucy, to see a Husband in these Circumstances?
Lucy. A Husband!
Macheath. In ev’ry Respect but the Form, and that, my Dear, may be said over us at any time.—Friends should not insist upon Ceremonies. From a Man of Honour, his Word is as good as his Bond.
Lucy. ’Tis the Pleasure of all you fine Men to insult the Women you have ruin’d.
AIR XXVII. ’Twas when the Sea was roaring, &c.
How cruel are the Traitors,
Who lye and swear in jest,
To cheat unguarded Creatures
Of Virtue, Fame, and Rest!
Whoever steals a Shilling,
Through Shame the Guilt conceals:
In Love the perjur’d Villain
With Boasts the Theft reveals.
Macheath. The very first Opportunity, my Dear, (have but Patience) you shall be my Wife in whatever manner you please.
Lucy. Insinuating Monster! And so you think I know nothing of the Affair of Miss Polly Peachum.—I could tear thy Eyes out!
Macheath. Sure, Lucy, you can’t be such a Fool as to be jealous of Polly!
Lucy. Are you not married to her, you Brute, you.
Macheath. Married! Very good. The Wench gives it out only to vex thee, and to ruin me in thy good Opinion. ’Tis true, I go to the House; I chat with the Girl, I kiss her, I say a thousand things to her (as all Gentlemen do) that mean nothing, to divert myself; and now the silly Jade hath set it about that I am married to her, to let me know what she would be at. Indeed, my dear Lucy, these violent Passions may be of ill consequence to a Woman in your Condition.
Lucy. Come, come, Captain, for all your Assurance, you know that Miss Polly hath put it out of your Power to do me the Justice you promis’d me.
Macheath. A jealous Woman believes every thing her Passion suggests. To convince you of my Sincerity, if we can find the Ordinary, I shall have no Scruples of making you my Wife; and I know the Consequence of having two at a time.
Lucy. That you are only to be hang’d, and so get rid of them both.
Macheath. I am ready, my dear Lucy, to give you Satisfaction—if you think there is any in Marriage.—What can a Man of Honour say more?
Lucy. So then, it seems, you are not married to Miss Polly.
Macheath. You know, Lucy, the Girl is prodigiously conceited. No Man can say a civil thing to her, but (like other fine Ladies) her Vanity makes her think he’s her own for ever and ever.
AIR XXVIII. The Sun had loos’d his weary Teams, &c.
The first time at the Looking-glass
The Mother sets her Daughter,
The Image strikes the smiling Lass
With Self-love ever after,
Each time she looks, she, fonder grown,
Thinks ev’ry Charm grows stronger.
But alas, vain Maid, all Eyes but your own
Can see you are not younger.
When Women consider their own Beauties, they are all alike unreasonable in their Demands; for they expect their Lovers should like them as long as they like themselves.
Lucy. Yonder is my Father—perhaps this way we may light upon the Ordinary, who shall try if you will be as good as your Word.—For I long to be made an honest Woman.
[Exeunt.
Enter Peachum and Lockit with an Account-Book.
Lockit. In this last Affair, Brother Peachum, we are agreed. You have consented to go halves in Macheath.
Peachum. We shall never fall out about an Execution—But as to that Article, pray how stands our last Year’s Account?
Lockit. If you will run your Eye over it, you’ll find ’tis fair and clearly stated.
Peachum. This long Arrear of the Government is very hard upon us! Can it be expected that we would hang our Acquaintance for nothing, when our Betters will hardly save theirs without being paid for it. Unless the People in Employment pay better, I promise them for the future, I shall let other Rogues live besides their own.
Lockit. Perhaps, Brother, they are afraid these Matters may be carried too far. We are treated too by them with Contempt, as if our Profession were not reputable.
Peachum. In one respect indeed our Employment may be reckon’d dishonest, because, like Great Statesmen, we encourage those who betray their Friends.
Lockit. Such Language, Brother, any where else, might turn to your Prejudice. Learn to be more guarded, I beg you.
AIR XXIX. How happy are we, &c.
When you censure the Age,
Be cautious and sage,
Lest the Courtiers offended should be:
If you mention Vice or Bribe,
’Tis so pat to all the Tribe;
Each cries—That was levell’d at me.
Peachum. Here’s poor Ned Clincher’s Name, I see. Sure, Brother Lockit, there was a little unfair Proceeding in Ned’s Case: for he told me in the Condemn’d Hold, that for Value receiv’d, you had promis’d him a Session or two longer without Molestation.
Lockit. Mr.
Peachum—this is the first time my Honour was ever call’d in Question.
Peachum. Business is at an end—if once we act dishonourably.
Lockit. Who accuses me?
Peachum. You are warm, Brother.
Lockit. He that attacks my Honour, attacks my Livelihood.—And this Usage—Sir—is not to be borne.
Peachum. Since you provoke me to speak—I must tell you too, that Mrs.
Coaxer charges you with defrauding her of her Information-Money, for the apprehending of curl-pated Hugh. Indeed, indeed, Brother, we must punctually pay our Spies, or we shall have no Information.
Lockit. Is this Language to me, Sirrah,—who have sav’d you from the Gallows, Sirrah!
[Collaring each other.
Peachum. If I am hang’d, it shall be for ridding the World of an arrant Rascal.
Lockit. This Hand shall do the Office of the Halter you deserve, and throttle you—you Dog!—
Peachum. Brother, Brother—We are both in the Wrong—We shall be both Losers in the Dispute—for you know we have it in our Power to hang each other. You should not be so passionate.
Lockit. Nor you so provoking.
Peachum. ’Tis our mutual Interest; ’tis for the Interest of the World we should agree. If I said any thing, Brother, to the Prejudice of your Character, I ask pardon.
Lockit. Brother Peachum—I can forgive as well as resent.—Give me your Hand. Suspicion does not become a Friend.
Peachum. I only meant to give you Occasion to justify yourself: But I must now step home, for I expect the Gentleman about this Snuff-box, that Filch nimm’d two Nights ago in the Park. I appointed him at this Hour.
[Exit Peachum.
Enter Lucy.
Lockit. Whence come you, Hussy?
Lucy. My Tears might answer that Question.
Lockit. You have then been whimpering and fondling, like a Spaniel, over the Fellow that hath abus’d you.
Lucy. One can’t help Love; one can’t cure it. ’Tis not in my Power to obey you, and hate him.
Lockit. Learn to bear your Husband’s Death like a reasonable Woman. ’Tis not the fashion, now-a-days, so much as to affect Sorrow upon these Occasions. No Woman would ever marry, if she had not the Chance of Mortality for a Release. Act like a Woman of Spirit, Hussy, and thank your Father for what he is doing.
AIR XXX. Of a noble Race was Shenkin.
Lucy. Is then his Fate decreed, Sir?
Such a Man can I think of quitting?
When first we met, so moves me yet,
O see how my Heart is splitting!
Lockit. Look ye, Lucy—There is no saving him.—So, I think, you must ev’n do like other Widows—buy yourself Weeds, and be chearful.
AIR XXXI.
You’ll think ere many Days ensue
This Sentence not severe;
I hang your Husband, Child, ’tis true,
But with him hang your Care.
Twang dang dillo dee.
Like a good Wife, go moan over your dying Husband. That, Child is your Duty—Consider, Girl, you can’t have the Man and the Money too—so make yourself as easy as you can, by getting all you can from him.
[Exit Lockit.
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 Scruples—Oh Sir!
my Father’s hard heart is not to be soften’d, and I am in the utmost Despair.
Macheath. But if I could raise a small Sum—Would not twenty Guineas, think you, move him?—Of all the Arguments in the way of Business, the Perquisite is the most prevailing—Your Father’s Perquisites for the Escape of Prisoners must amount to a considerable Sum in the Year. Money well tim’d, and properly apply’d, will do any thing.
AIR XXXII. London Ladies.
If you at an Office solicit your Due,
And would not have Matters neglected;
You must quicken the Clerk with the Perquisite too,
To do what his Duty directed.
Or would you the Frowns of a Lady prevent,
She too has this palpable Failing,
The Perquisite softens her into Consent;
That Reason with all is prevailing.
Lucy. What Love or Money can do shall be done: for all my Comfort depends upon your Safety.
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 dost thou turn away from me?—’Tis thy Polly—’Tis thy Wife.
Macheath. Was ever such an unfortunate Rascal as I am!
Lucy. Was there ever such another Villain!
Polly. O Macheath!
Peachum. How the Mother is to be pitied who hath handsom Daughters! Locks, Bolts, Bars, and Lectures of Morality are nothing to them: They break through them all. They have as much Pleasure in cheating a Father and Mother, as in cheating at Cards.
Peachum. Why, Polly, I shall soon know if you are married, by Macheath’s keeping from our House.
AIR VIII. Grim King of the Ghosts, &c.
Polly. Can Love be control’d by Advice?
Will Cupid our Mothers obey?
Though my Heart were as frozen as Ice,
At his Flame ’twould have melted away.
When he kist me so closely he prest,
’Twas so sweet that I must have comply’d:
So I thought it both safest and best
To marry, for fear you should chide.
Mrs.
her Folly makes me mad! Peachum. Colour’d ones, I see. They are of sure Sale from our Warehouse at Redriff among the Seamen.
Filch. And this Snuff-box.
Mrs. as careless and genteel as ever! Trapes. He thought I did not know him—An intimate Acquaintance of yours, Mr. Peachum—Only Captain Macheath—as fine as a Lord.
Peachum. 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 Macheath.
Mrs. Slammekin. I am sure at least three Men of his hanging, and in a Year’s time too (if he did me Justice) should be set down to my Account.
Trull. Mrs.
Slammekin, that is not fair. For you know one of them was taken in Bed with me.
Jenny. As far as a Bowl of Punch or a Treat, I believe Mrs. Suky will join with me.—As for any thing else, Ladies, you cannot in Conscience expect it.
Mrs. Peachum. Then all the Hopes of our Family are gone for ever and ever!
Peachum. And Macheath may hang his Father and Mother-in-law, in hope to get into their Daughter’s Fortune.
Polly. I did not marry him (as ’tis the Fashion) coolly and deliberately for Honour or Money. But, I love him.
Mrs.
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the Captain is a bold Man, and will risk any thing for Money; to be sure he believes her a Fortune. Do you think your Mother and I should have liv’d comfortably so long together, if ever we had been married? Baggage!
Mrs. Trapes. Though he thinks I have forgot him; no body knows him better. I have taken a great deal of the Captain’s Money in my Time at second-hand, for he always lov’d to have his Ladies well drest.
Peachum. Mr.
Lockit and I have a little Business with the Captain;—You understand me—and we will satisfy you for Mrs. Coaxer’s Debt.
Lockit. Depend upon it—we will deal like Men of Honour.
Mrs.