Part 3

_Polly._ Now I'm a Wretch, indeed. --Methinks I see him already in the Cart, sweeter and more lovely than the Nosegay in his Hand! --I hear the Crowd extolling his Resolution and Intrepidity! --What Vollies of Sighs are sent from the Windows of _Holborn_, that so comely a Youth should be brought to Disgrace! --I see him at the Tree! The whole Circle are in Tears! --even Butchers weep! --_Jack Ketch_ himself hesitates to perform his Duty, and would be glad to lose his Fee, by a Reprieve. What then will become of _Polly_! --As yet I may inform him of their Design, and aid him in his Escape. --It shall be so-- But then he flies, absents himself, and I bar myself from his dear dear Conversation! That too will distract me. --If he keep out of the way, my Papa and Mama may in time relent, and we may be happy. --If he stays, he is hang'd, and then he is lost for ever! --He intended to lie conceal'd in my Room, 'till the Dusk of the Evening: If they are abroad I'll this Instant let him out, lest some Accident should prevent him.

[Exit, and returns with _Macheath_.

_Macheath._

AIR XIV. Pretty Parrot, say--

[Music]

_Macheath._ Pretty _Polly_, say, When I was away, Did your fancy never stray To some newer Lover?

_Polly._ Without Disguise, Heaving Sighs, Doting Eyes, My constant Heart discover. Fondly let me loll!

_Macheath._ O pretty, pretty _Poll_.

_Polly._ And are _you_ as fond as ever, my Dear?

_Macheath._ Suspect my Honour, my Courage, suspect any thing but my Love. --May my Pistols miss Fire, and my Mare slip her Shoulder while I am pursu'd, if I ever forsake thee!

_Polly._ Nay, my Dear, I have no Reason to doubt you, for I find in the Romance you lent me, none of the great Heroes were ever false in Love.

AIR XV. Pray, Fair one, be kind--

[Music]

_Macheath._ My Heart was so free, It rov'd like the Bee, 'Till _Polly_ my Passion requited; I sipt each Flower, I chang'd every Hour, But here every Flower is united.

_Polly._ Were you sentenc'd to Transportation, sure, my Dear, you could not leave me behind you-- could you?

_Macheath._ Is there any Power, any Force that could tear me from thee? You might sooner tear a Pension out of the Hands of a Courtier, a Fee from a Lawyer, a pretty Woman from a Looking-glass, or any Woman from Quadrille. --But to tear me from thee is impossible!

AIR XVI. Over the Hills and far away.

[Music]

Were I laid on _Greenland's_ Coast, And in my Arms embrac'd my Lass; Warm amidst eternal Frost, Too soon the Half Year's Night would pass.

_Polly._ Were I sold on _Indian_ Soil, Soon as the burning Day was clos'd, I could mock the sultry Toil When on my Charmer's Breast repos'd.

_Macheath._ And I would love you all the Day,

_Polly._ Every Night would kiss and play,

_Macheath._ If with me you'd fondly stray

_Polly._ Over the Hills and far away.

_Polly._ Yes, I would go with thee. But oh! --how shall I speak it? I must be torn from thee. We must part.

_Macheath._ How! Part!

_Polly._ We must, we must. --My Papa and Mama are set against thy Life. They now, even now are in Search after thee. They are preparing Evidence against thee. Thy Life depends upon a moment.

AIR XVII. Gin thou wert mine awn thing--

[Music]

Oh what Pain it is to part! Can I leave thee, can I leave thee? O what pain it is to part! Can thy _Polly_ ever leave thee? But lest Death my Love should thwart, And bring thee to the fatal Cart, Thus I tear thee from my bleeding Heart! Fly hence, and let me leave thee.

One Kiss and then-- one Kiss-- be gone-- farewel.

_Macheath._ My Hand, my Heart, my Dear, is so riveted to thine, that I cannot unloose my Hold.

_Polly._ But my Papa may intercept thee, and then I should lose the very glimmering of Hope. A few Weeks, perhaps, may reconcile us all. Shall thy _Polly_ hear from thee?

_Macheath._ Must I then go?

_Polly._ And will not Absence change your Love?

_Macheath._ If you doubt it, let me stay-- and be hang'd.

_Polly._ O how I fear! how I tremble! --Go-- but when Safety will give you leave, you will be sure to see me again; for 'till then _Polly_ is wretched.

AIR XVIII. O the Broom, &c.

[Music]

_Macheath._ The Miser thus a Shilling sees, Which he's oblig'd to pay, With sighs resigns it by degrees, And fears 'tis gone for ay.

[Parting, and looking back at each other with fondness; he at one Door, she at the other.

_Polly._ The Boy, thus, when his Sparrow's flown, The Bird in Silence eyes; But soon as out of Sight 'tis gone, Whines, whimpers, sobs and cries.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

## ACT II. SCENE I.

_A TAVERN near _Newgate_._

_Jemmy Twitcher_, _Crook-finger'd Jack_, _Wat Dreary_, _Robin of Bagshot_, _Nimming Ned_, _Henry Paddington_, _Matt of the Mint_, _Ben Budge_, and the rest of the Gang, at the Table, with Wine, Brandy and Tobacco.

_Ben._ But pr'ythee, _Matt_, what is become of thy Brother _Tom_? I have not seen him since my Return from Transportation.

_Matt._ Poor Brother _Tom_ had an Accident this time Twelve-month, and so clever a made fellow he was, that I could not save him from those fleaing Rascals the Surgeons; and now, poor Man, he is among the Otamys at _Surgeons Hall_.

_Ben._ So it seems, his Time was come.

_Jemmy._ But the present Time is ours, and no body alive hath more. Why are the Laws levell'd at us? are we more dishonest than the rest of Mankind? What we win, Gentlemen, is our own by the Law of Arms, and the Right of Conquest.

_Crook._ Where shall we find such another Set of Practical Philosophers, who to a Man are above the Fear of Death?

_Wat._ Sound Men, and true!

_Robin._ Of try'd Courage, and indefatigable Industry!

_Ned._ Who is there here that would not die for his Friend?

_Harry._ Who is there here that would betray him for his Interest?

_Matt._ Shew me a Gang of Courtiers that can say as much.

_Ben._ We are for a just Partition of the World, for every Man hath a Right to enjoy Life.

_Matt._ We retrench the Superfluities of Mankind. The World is avaritious, and I hate Avarice. A covetous fellow, like a Jackdaw, steals what he was never made to enjoy, for the sake of hiding it. These are the Robbers of Mankind, for Money was made for the Free-hearted and Generous, and where is the Injury of taking from another, what he hath not the Heart to make use of?

_Jemmy._ Our several Stations for the Day are fixt. Good luck attend us all. Fill the Glasses.

AIR XIX. Fill every Glass, &c.

[Music]

_Matt._ Fill every Glass, for Wine inspires us, And fires us With Courage, Love and Joy. Women and Wine should life employ. Is there ought else on Earth desirous?

_Chorus._ Fill every Glass, &c.

_To them enter _Macheath_._

_Macheath._ Gentlemen, well met. My Heart hath been with you this Hour; but an unexpected Affair hath detain'd me. No Ceremony, I beg you.

_Matt._ We were just breaking up to go upon Duty. Am I to have the Honour of taking the Air with you, Sir, this Evening upon the Heath? I drink a Dram now and then with the Stagecoachmen in the way of Friendship and Intelligence; and I know that about this Time there will be Passengers upon the Western Road, who are worth speaking with.

_Macheath._ I was to have been of that Party-- but--

_Matt._ But what, Sir?

_Macheath._ Is there any Man who suspects my Courage?

_Matt._ We have all been Witnesses of it.

_Macheath._ My Honour and Truth to the Gang?

_Matt._ I'll be answerable for it.

_Macheath._ In the Division of our Booty, have I ever shewn the least Marks of Avarice or Injustice?

_Matt._ By these Questions something seems to have ruffled you. Are any of us suspected?

_Macheath._ I have a fixed Confidence, Gentlemen, in you all, as Men of Honour, and as such I value and respect you. _Peachum_ is a Man that is useful to us.

_Matt._ Is he about to play us any foul Play? I'll shoot him through the Head.

_Macheath._ I beg you, Gentlemen, act with Conduct and Discretion. A Pistol is your last Resort.

_Matt._ He knows nothing of this Meeting.

_Macheath._ Business cannot go on without him. He is a Man who knows the World, and is a necessary Agent to us. We have had a slight Difference, and 'till it is accommodated I shall be oblig'd to keep out of his way. Any private Dispute of mine shall be of no ill consequence to my Friends. You must continue to act under his Direction, for the moment we break loose from him, our Gang is ruin'd.

_Matt._ As a Bawd to a Whore, I grant you, he is to us of great Convenience.

_Macheath._ Make him believe I have quitted the Gang, which I can never do but with Life. At our private Quarters I will continue to meet you. A Week or so will probably reconcile us.

_Matt._ Your Instructions shall be observ'd. 'Tis now high time for us to repair to our several Duties; so 'till the Evening at our Quarters in Moor-Fields we bid you farewel.

_Macheath._ I shall wish myself with you. Success attend you.

[Sits down melancholy at the Table.

AIR XX. March in _Rinaldo_, with Drums and Trumpets.

[Music]

_Matt._ Let us take the Road. Hark! I hear the Sound of Coaches! The Hour of Attack approaches, To your Arms, brave Boys, and load. See the Ball I hold! Let the Chymists toil like Asses, Our Fire their Fire surpasses, And turns all our Lead to Gold.

[The Gang, rang'd in the Front of the Stage, load their Pistols, and stick them under their Girdles; then go off singing the first

## Part in Chorus.

_Macheath._ 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 have 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.

AIR XXI. Would you have a young Virgin, &c.

[Music]

If the Heart of a Man is deprest with Cares, The Mist is dispell'd when a Woman appears; Like the Notes of a Fiddle, she sweetly, sweetly Raises the Spirits, and charms our Ears, Roses and Lilies her Cheeks disclose, But her ripe Lips are more sweet than those. Press her, Caress her, With Blisses, Her Kisses Dissolve us in Pleasure, and soft Repose.

I must have Women. There is nothing unbends the Mind like them. Money is not so strong a Cordial for the Time. Drawer-- [Enter Drawer.] Is the Porter gone for all the Ladies according to my Directions?

_Drawer._ I expect him back every Minute. But you know, Sir, you sent him as far as _Hockley in the Hole_ for three of the Ladies, for one in _Vinegar-Yard_, and for the rest of them somewhere about _Lewkner's-Lane_. Sure some of them are below, for I hear the Bar-Bell. As they come I will shew them up. Coming, Coming.

Enter Mrs. _Coaxer_, _Dolly Trull_, Mrs. _Vixen_, _Betty Doxy_, _Jenny Diver_, Mrs. _Slammekin_, _Suky Tawdry_, and _Molly Brazen_.

_Macheath._ Dear Mrs. _Coaxer_, you are welcome. You look charmingly to-day. I hope you don't want the Repairs of Quality, and lay on Paint. --_Dolly Trull!_ kiss me, you Slut; are you as amorous as ever, Hussy? You are always so taken up with stealing Hearts, that you don't allow yourself Time to steal any thing else. --Ah _Dolly_, thou wilt ever be a Coquette! Mrs. _Vixen_, I'm yours, I always lov'd a Woman of Wit and Spirit; they make charming Mistresses, but plaguy Wives-- _Betty Doxy!_ Come hither, Hussy. Do you drink as hard as ever? You had better stick to good wholesom Beer; for in troth, _Betty_, Strong-Waters will in time ruin your Constitution. You should leave those to your Betters. --What! and my pretty _Jenny Diver_ too! As prim and demure as ever! There is not any Prude, though ever so high bred, hath a more sanctify'd Look, with a more mischievous Heart. Ah! thou art a dear artful Hypocrite. --Mrs. _Slammekin!_ as careless and genteel as ever! all you fine Ladies, who know your own Beauty, affect an Undress. --But see, here's _Suky Tawdry_ come to contradict what I was saying. Every thing she gets one way she lays out upon her Back. Why, _Suky_, you must keep at least a Dozen Tallymen. _Molly Brazen!_ [She kisses him.] That's well done. I love a free-hearted Wench. Thou hast a most agreeable Assurance, Girl, and art as willing as a Turtle. --But hark! I hear Music. The Harper is at the Door. _If Music be the Food of Love, play on._ Ere you seat yourselves, Ladies, what think you of a Dance? Come in. [Enter Harper.] Play the _French_ Tune, that Mrs. _Slammekin_ was so fond of.

[A Dance _a la ronde_ in the _French_ manner; near the end of it this song and Chorus.

AIR XXII. Cotillon.

[Music]

Youth's the Season made for Joys, Love is then our Duty, She alone who that employs, Well deserves her Beauty. Let's be gay, While we may, Beauty's a Flower, despis'd in Decay. Youth's the Season, &c.

Let us drink and sport to-day, Ours is not to-morrow. Love with Youth flies swift away, Age is nought but Sorrow. Dance and sing, Time's on the Wing. Life never knows the Return of Spring.

_Chorus._ Let us drink, &c.

_Macheath._ Now, pray Ladies, take your Places. Here Fellow. [Pays the Harper.] Bid the Drawer bring us more Wine. [Exit Harper.] If any of the Ladies choose Ginn, I hope they will be so free to call for it.

_Jenny._ You look as if you meant me. Wine is strong enough for me. Indeed, Sir, I never drink Strong-Waters, but when I have the Cholic.

_Macheath._ Just the Excuse of the fine Ladies! Why, a Lady of Quality is never without the Cholic. I hope, Mrs. _Coaxer_, you have had good Success of late in your Visits among the Mercers.

_Mrs. Coaxer._ We have so many Interlopers-- Yet with Industry, one may still have a little Picking. I carried a silver-flowered Lutestring, and a Piece of black Padesoy to Mr. _Peachum's_ Lock but last Week.

_Mrs. Vixen._ There's _Molly Brazen_ hath the Ogle of a Rattle-Snake. She rivetted a Linen-Draper's Eye so fast upon her, that he was nick'd of three Pieces of Cambric before he could look off.

_Brazen._ Oh dear Madam! --But sure nothing can come up to your handling of Laces! And then you have such a sweet deluding Tongue! To cheat a Man is nothing; but the Woman must have fine Parts indeed who cheats a Woman.

_Mrs. Vixen._ Lace, Madam, lies in a small Compass, and is of easy Conveyance. But you are apt, Madam, to think too well of your Friends.

_Mrs. Coaxer._ If any woman hath more Art than another, to be sure, 'tis _Jenny Diver_. Though her Fellow be never so agreeable, she can pick his Pocket as coolly, as if money were her only Pleasure. Now that is a Command of the Passions uncommon in a Woman!

_Jenny._ I never go to the Tavern with a Man, but in the View of Business. I have other Hours, and other sort of Men for my Pleasure. But had I your Address, Madam--

_Macheath._ Have done with your Compliments, Ladies; and drink about: You are not so fond of me, _Jenny_, as you use to be.

_Jenny._ 'Tis not convenient, Sir, to shew my Fondness among so many Rivals. 'Tis your own Choice, and not the Warmth of my Inclination that will determine you.

AIR XXIII. All in a misty Morning, &c.

[Music]

Before the Barn-Door crowing, The Cock by Hens attended, His Eyes around him throwing, Stands for a while suspended.

Then One he singles from the Crew, And cheers the happy Hen; With how do you do, and how do you do, And how do you do again.

_Macheath._ Ah _Jenny!_ 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! but before Company 'tis ill bred.

_Macheath._ Wanton Hussies!

_Jenny._ I must and will have a Kiss to give my Wine a Zest.

[They take him about the Neck and make signs to _Peachum_ and Constables, who rush in upon him.

_Peachum._ I seize you, Sir, as my Prisoner.

_Macheath._ Was this well done, _Jenny_? --Women are Decoy Ducks; who can trust them! Beasts, Jades, Jilts, Harpies, Furies, Whores!

_Peachum._ Your Case, Mr. _Macheath_, is not particular. The greatest Heroes have been ruin'd by Women. But, to do them Justice, I must own they are a pretty sort of Creatures, if we could trust them. You must now, Sir, take your Leave of the Ladies, and if they have a mind to make you a Visit, they will be sure to find you at home. This Gentleman, Ladies, lodges in _Newgate_. Constables, wait upon the Captain to his Lodgings.

AIR XXIV. When first I laid Siege to my _Chloris_, &c.

[Music]

_Macheath._ At the Tree I shall suffer with Pleasure, At the Tree I shall suffer with Pleasure, Let me go where I will, In all kinds of Ill, I shall find no such Furies as these are.

_Peachum._ Ladies, I'll take care the Reckoning shall be discharged.

[Exit _Macheath_, guarded with _Peachum and Constables_.

_Mrs. Vixen._ Look ye, Mrs. _Jenny_, though Mr. _Peachum_ may have made a private Bargain with you and _Suky Tawdry_ for betraying the Captain, as we were all assisting, we ought all to share alike.

_Mrs. Coaxer._ I think Mr. _Peachum_, after so long an Acquaintance, might have trusted me as well as _Jenny Diver_.

_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. Slammekin._ Dear Madam--

_Trull._ I would not for the World--

_Mrs. Slammekin._ 'Tis impossible for me--

_Trull._ As I hope to be sav'd, Madam--

_Mrs. Slammekin._ Nay, then I must stay here all Night--

_Trull._ Since you command me.

[Exeunt with great Ceremony.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

## SCENE II. _Newgate._

_Lockit_, Turnkeys, _Macheath_, Constables.

_Lockit._ Noble Captain, you are welcome. You have not been a Lodger of mine this Year and half. You know the Custom, Sir. Garnish, Captain, Garnish. Hand me down those Fetters there.

_Macheath._ Those, Mr. _Lockit_, seem to be the heaviest of the whole Set. With your Leave, I should like the further Pair better.

_Lockit._ Look ye, Captain, we know what is fittest for our Prisoners. When a Gentleman uses me with Civility, I always do the best I can to please him. --Hand them down I say. --We have them of all Prices, from one Guinea to ten, and 'tis fitting every Gentleman should please himself.

_Macheath._ I understand you, Sir. [Gives Money.] The Fees here are so many, and so exorbitant, that few Fortunes can bear the Expence of getting off handsomly, or of dying like a Gentleman.

_Lockit._ Those, I see, will fit the Captain better-- Take down the further Pair. Do but examine them, Sir. --Never was better work. --How genteely they are made! --They will fit as easy as a Glove, and the nicest Man in _England_ might not be asham'd to wear them. [He puts on the Chains.] If I had the best Gentleman in the Land in my Custody I could not equip him more handsomly. And so, Sir-- I now leave you to your private Meditations.

[Exeunt leaving _Macheath_ solus.

_Macheath._

AIR XXV. Courtiers, Courtiers, think it no Harm, &c.

[Music]

Man may escape from Rope and Gun; Nay, some have out liv'd the Doctor's Pill; Who takes a Woman must be undone, That Basilisk is sure to kill. The Fly that sips Treacle is lost in the Sweets, So he that tastes Woman, Woman, Woman, He that tastes Woman, ruin meets.

To what a woful Plight have I brought myself! Here must I (all Day long, 'till I am hang'd) be confin'd to hear the Reproaches of a Wench who lays her Ruin at my Door-- I am in the Custody of her Father, and to be sure, if he knows of the matter, I shall have a fine time on't betwixt this and my Execution. --But I promis'd the Wench Marriage-- What signifies a Promise to a Woman? Does not Man in Marriage itself promise a hundred things that he never means to perform? Do all we can, Women will believe us; for they look upon a Promise as an Excuse for following their own Inclinations. --But here comes _Lucy_, and I cannot get from her. --Wou'd I were deaf!

Enter _Lucy_.

_Lucy._ You base Man you, --how can you look me in the Face after what hath passed between us? --See here, perfidious Wretch, how I am forc'd to bear about the Load of Infamy you have laid upon me-- O _Macheath_! 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.

[Music]

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.

[Music]

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_!