SCENE I.

A Lawyer is an honeſt Employment, ſo is mine. Like me too he acts in a double Capacity, both againſt Rogues and for 'em; for 'tis but fitting that we ſhould protect and en⯑courage Cheats, ſince we live by them.

SCENE II.

Sir, Black Moll hath ſent word her Tryal comes on in the Afternoon, and ſhe hopes you will order Matters ſo as to bring her off.

Why, ſhe may plead her Belly at worſt; to my Knowledge ſhe hath taken care of that Security. But as the Wench is very active and induſtrious, you may ſatisfy her that I'll ſoften the Evidence.

Tom Gagg, Sir, is found guilty.

A lazy Dog! When I took him the time before, I told him what he would come to if he did not mend his Hand. This is Death without Reprieve. I may venture to Book him.

For Tom Gagg, forty Pounds. Let Betty Sly know that I'll ſave her from Tranſportation, for I can get more by her ſtaying in England.

Betty hath brought more Goods into our Lock to-year than any five of the Gang; and in truth, 'tis a pity to loſe ſo good a Cuſtomer.

If none of the Gang take her off, ſhe may, in the common courſe of Buſineſs, live a Twelve-month longer. I love to let Women ſcape. A good Sportſman always lets the Hen Partridges fly, becauſe the breed of the Game depends upon them. Beſides, here the Law allows us no Reward; there is nothing to be got by the Death of Women—except our Wives.

Without diſpute, ſhe is a fine Woman! 'Twas to her I was oblig'd for my Education, and (to ſay a bold Word) ſhe hath train'd up more young Fellows to the Buſineſs than the Gaming-table.

Truly, Filch, thy Obſervation is right. We and the Surgeons are more beholden to Women than all the Profeſſions beſides.

But make haſte to Newgate, Boy, and let my Friends know what I intend; for I love to make them ea⯑ſy one way or other.

When a Gentleman is long kept in ſuſpence, Pe⯑nitence may break his Spirit ever after. Beſides, Certain⯑ty gives a Man a good Air upon his Tryal, and makes him riſque another without Fear or Scruple. But I'll away, for 'tis a Pleaſure to be the Meſſenger of Comfort to Friends in Affliction.

SCENE III.

But 'tis now high time to look about me for a decent Execution againſt next Seſſions. I hate a lazy Rogue, by whom one can get nothing 'till he is hang'd. A Regiſter of the Gang,

Crook-finger'd Jack. A Year and a half in the Service; Let me ſee how much the Stock owes to his Induſtry; one, two, three, four, five Gold Watches, and ſeven Silver ones. A mighty clean-handed Fellow! Sixteen Snuff boxes, five of them of true Gold. Six dozen of Handkerchiefs, four ſilver-hilted Swords, half a dozen of Shirts, three Tye-Periwigs, and a Piece of Broad Cloath. Conſidering theſe are only the Fruits of [4] his leiſure Hours, I don't know a prettier Fellow, for no Man alive hath a more engaging Preſence of Mind upon the Road. Wat Dreary, alias Brown Will, an irregular Dog, who hath an underhand way of diſpoſing of his Goods. I'll try him only for a Seſſions or two longer up⯑on his good Behaviour. Harry Padington, a poor petty-larceny Raſcal, without the leaſt Genius; that Fellow, though he were to live theſe ſix Months, will never come to the Gallows with any Credit. Slippery Sam; he goes off the next Seſſions, for the Villain hath the Impudence to have views of following his Trade as a Taylor, which he calls an honeſt Employment. Mat of the Miat, liſted not above a Month ago, a promiſing ſturdy Fellow, and diligent in his way; ſomewhat too bold and haſty, and may raiſe good Contributions on the Publick, if he does not cut himſelf ſhort by Murder. Tom Tipple, a guzzling ſoaking Sot, who is always too drunk to ſtand himſelf, or to make others ſtand. A Cart is abſolutely neceſſary for him. Robin of Bagſhot, alias Gorgon, alias Bluff Bob, alias Carbuncle, alias Bob Booty.

SCENE IV.

What of Bob Booty, Husband? I hope no⯑thing bad hath betided him. You know, my Dear, he's a favourite Cuſtomer of mine. 'Twas he made me a Pre⯑ſent of this Ring.

I have ſet his Name down in the black-Liſt, that's all, my Dear; he ſpends his Life among Women, and as ſoon as his Money is gone, one or other of the Ladies will hang him for the Reward, and there's forty Pound loſt to us for ever.

You know, my Dear, I never meddle in matters of Death; I always leave thoſe Affairs to you. Wo⯑men indeed are bitter bad Judges in theſe caſes, for they are ſo partial to the Brave that they think every Man handſome who is going to the Camp or the Gallows.

But really, Husband, you ſhould not be too hard-hearted, for you never had a finer, braver ſet of Men than at preſent. We have not had a Murder among them all, theſe ſeven Months. And truly, my Dear, that is a great Bleſſing.

What a dickens is the Woman always a whim⯑pring about Murder for? No Gentleman is ever look'd up⯑on the worſe for killing a Man in his own Defence; and if Buſineſs cannot be carried on without it, what would you have a Gentleman do?

If I am in the wrong, my Dear, you muſt excuſe me, for No-body can help the Frailty of an over⯑ſcrupulous Conſcience

Murder is as faſhionable a Crime as a Man can be guilty of. How many fine Gentlemen have we in New⯑gate every Year, purely upon that Article! If they have wherewithal to perſuade the Jury to bring it in Man⯑ſlaughter, what are they the worſe for it? So. my Dear, have done upon this Subject. Was Captain Macheath here this Morning for the bank-notes he left with you laſt Week?

Yes, my Dear, and though the Bank hath ſtopt Payment, he was ſo cheerful and ſo agreeable! Sure there is not a finer Gentleman upon the Road than the Cap⯑tain! If he comes from Bagſhot at any reaſonable Hour he hath promiſ'd to make one this [...] and me, [6] and Bob Booty, at a Party of Quadrille. Pray, my Dear, is the Captain rich?

The Captain keeps too good Company ever to grow rich. Mary-bone and the Chocolate-houſes are his undoing. The Man that propoſes to get Money by Play ſhould have the Education of a fine Gentleman, and be train'd up to it from his Youth.

Really, I am ſorry upon Polly's Account the Captain in hath not more Diſcretion. What buſineſs hath he to keep Company with Lords and Gentlemen? he ſhould leave them to prey upon one another.

Upon Polly's Account! What, a Plague, does the Woman mean?—Upon Polly's Account!

Captain Macheath is very fond of the Girl.

And what then?

If I have any Skill in the Ways of Women, I am ſure Polly thinks him a very pretty Man.

And what then? You would not be ſo mad to have the Wench marry him! Gameſters and Highway men are generally very good to their Whores, but they are very Devils to their Wives.

But if Polly ſhould be in love, how ſhould we help her, or how can ſhe help herſelf? Poor Girl, I am in the utmoſt Concern about her.

Look ye, Wife. A handſome Wench in our way of Buſineſs is as profitable as the Bar of a Temple Cof⯑fee-Houſe, who looks upon it as her livelihood to grant every Liberty but one. You ſee I would indulge the Girl [7] as far as prudently we can. In any thing, but Marriage! After that, my Dear, how ſhall we be ſafe? Are we not then in her Husband's Power: For a Husband hath the ab⯑ſolute Power over alla Wife's Secrets but her own. If the Girl had the Diſcretion of a Court Lady, who can have a dozen young Fellows at her Ear without complying with one, I ſhould not matter it; but Polly is Tinder, and a Spark will at once ſet her on a Flame. Married! If the Wench does not know her own Profit, ſure ſhe knows her own Pleaſure better than to make herſelf a Property! My Daughter to me ſhould be, like a Court Lady to a Miniſter of State, a Key to the whole Gang. Married! If the Af⯑fair is not already done, I'll terrify her from it, by the Ex⯑ample of our Neighbours.

May-hap, my Dear, you may injure the Girl. She loves to imitate the fine Ladies, and ſhe may on⯑ly allow the Captain Liberties in the View of Intereſt.

But 'tis your Duty, my Dear, to warn the Girl a⯑gainſt her Ruin, and to inſtruct her how to make the moſt of her Beauty. I'll go to her this Moment, and ſift her. In the mean time, Wife, rip out the Coronets and Marks of theſe dozen of Cambric Handkerchiefs, for I can diſ⯑poſe of them this Afternoon to a Chap in the City.

SCENE V.

Never was a Man more out of the way in an Argument than my Husband! Why muſt our Polly, forſooth, differ from her Sex, and love only her Husband? And why muſt Polly's Marriage, contrary to all Obſervation, make her the leſs followed by other Men? All Men are Thieves in Love, and like a Woman the better for being another's Property.

SCENE VI.

Come hither Filch. I am as fond of this Child, as though my Mind miſgive me he were my own He hath as fine a Hand at picking a Pocket as a Woman, and is as nimble-finger'd as a Juggler. If any unlucky Seſſion does not cut the Rope of thy Life, I pronounce, Boy, thou wilt be a great Man in Hiſtory. Where was your Poſt laſt Night, my Boy?

I play'd at the Opera, Madam; and conſidering 'twas neither dark nor rainy▪ ſo that there was no great Hurry in getting Chairs and Coaches▪ made a tolerable hand on't. There ſeven Handkerchiets, Madam.

Colour'd ones, I ſee. They are of ſure [...] from our Ware-houſe at Redriff among the Seamen.

And this Snuff-box.

Set in Gold! A pretty Encouragement this to a young Beginner.

I had a rare tug at a charming Gold Watch. Pox take the Taylors for making the Fobs ſo deep and narrow! It ſtuck by the way, and I was forc'd to make my Eſcape under a Coach. Really, Madam, I fear I ſhall be cut off in the Flower of my Youth, ſo that every now and then (ſince I was pumpt) I have thoughts of taking up and going to Sea.

You ſhould go to Hockley in the Hole, and to Marybone, Child, to learn Valour Theſe are the Schools that have bred ſo many brave Men. I thought, Boy by this time, thou hadſt loſt Fear as well as Shame. Poor Lad! how little does he know as yet of the Old-Barly! For the firſt Fact I'll inſure thee from being hang'd; and going to Sea, Filch, [...] come time enough upon a Sentence of [9] Tranſportation. But now, ſince you have nothing better to do, ev'n go to your Book, and learn your Catechiſm; for really a Man makes but an ill Figure in the Ordinary's Paper, who cannot give a ſatisfactory Anſwer to his Queſ⯑tions. But, hark you, my Lad, don't tell me a Lye, for you know I hate a Lyar. Do you know of any thing that hath paſt between Captain Macheath and our Polly?

I beg you, Madam, don't ask me, for I muſt either tell a Lye to you or to Miſs Polly; for I promis'd her I would not tell.

But when the Honour of our Family is con⯑cern'd—

I ſhall lead a ſad Life with Miſs Polly, if ever ſhe come to know that I told you. Beſides, I would not wil⯑lingly forefeit my own Honour by betraying any body.

Yonder comes my Husband and Polly Come, Filch, you ſhall go with me into my own Room, and tell me the whole Story. I'll give thee a moſt delicious Glaſs of Cordial that I keep for my own drinking.

SCENE VII

I know as well as any of the fine Ladies how to make the moſt of my ſelf and of my Man too. A Woman knows how to be mercenary, though ſhe hath never been in a Court or at an Aſſembly. We have it in our Natures, Papa. If I allow Captain Macheath ſome trifling Liber⯑ties, I have this Watch and other viſible Marks of his Fa⯑vour to ſhow for it. A Girl who cannot grant ſome Things and refuſe what is moſt material, will make but a poor hand of her Beauty, and ſoon be thrown upon the Com⯑mon.

You know, Polly, I am not againſt your toying and trifling with a Cuſtomer in the way of Buſineſs, or to get out a Secret, or ſo. But if I found out that you have play'd the fool and are married, you Jade you, I'll cut your Throat, Huſſy. Now you know my Mind.

SCENE VIII.

You Baggage! you Huſſy! you inconſiderate Jade! had you been hang'd, it would not have vex'd me, for that might have been your Misfortune; but to do ſuch a mad thing by Choice! The Wench is married, Husband.

Married! The Captain is a bold Man, and will riſque 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!

I knew ſhe was always a proud Slut; and now the Wench hath play'd the Fool and married, becauſe forſooth ſhe would do like the Gentry. Can you ſupport the Expence of a Husband, Huſſy, in gaming, drinking and whoring? have you Money enough to carry on the daily Quarrels of Man and Wife about who ſhall ſquander moſt? There are not many Husbands and Wives, who can bear the Charges of plaguing one another in a handſome way. If you muſt be married, could you introduce no-body into our Family but a Highwayman? Why, thou fooliſh Jade, thou wilt be as ill-us'd, and as much neglected, as if thou hadſt married a Lord!

Let not your Anger, my Dear, break through the Rules of Decency, for the Captain looks upon himſelf in the Military Capacity, as a Gentleman by his Profeſſion. Beſides what he hath already, I know he is in a fair way of getting, or of dying; and both theſe ways, let me tell you, are moſt excellent Chances for a Wife. Tell me Huſſy, are you ruin'd or no?

With Polly's Fortune, ſhe might very well have gone off to a Perſon of Diſtinction. Yes, that you might, you pouting Slut!

What, is the Wench dumb? Speak, or I'll make you plead by ſqueezing out an Anſwer from you. Are you really bound Wife to him, or are you only upon liking?

Oh!

How the Mother is to be pitied who hath handſome 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.

Why, Polly, I ſhall ſoon know if you are married, by Macheath's keeping from our Houſe.

Then all the Hopes of our Family are gone for ever and ever!

And Macheath may hang his Father and Mother-in-Law, in hope to get into their Daughter's Fortune.

I did not marry him (as 'tis the Faſhion) cooly and deliberately for Honour or Money. But, I love him.

Love him! worſe and worſe! I thought the Girl had been better bred. Oh Husband, Husband! her Folly makes me mad! my Head ſwims! I'm diſtracted! I can't ſupport myſelf—Oh!

Lee, Wench, to what a Condition you have re⯑duc'd your poor Mother! a Glaſs of Cordial, this inſtant. How the poor Woman takes it to Heart!

Ah, Huſſy, now this the only Comfort your Mother has left!

Give her another Glaſs, Sir; my Mama drinks double the Quantity whenever ſhe is out of Order. This, you ſee, fetches her.

The Girl ſhows ſuch a Readineſs, and ſo much Concern, that I could almoſt find in my Heart to forgive her.

Not with a Highwayman—You ſorry Slut!

A Word with you, Wife. 'Tis no new thing for a Wench to take Man without conſent of Parents. You know 'tis the Frailty of Woman, my Dear.

Yes, indeed, the Sex is frail. But the firſt time, a Woman is frail, ſhe ſhould be ſomewhat nice me⯑thinks, for then or never is the time to make her Fortune. After that, ſhe hath nothing to do but to guard herſelf from being found out, and ſhe may do what ſhe pleaſes.

Make your ſelf a little eaſy; I have a Thought ſhall ſoon ſet all Matters again to rights. Why ſo melan⯑choly, Polly? ſince what is done cannot be undone, we muſt all endeavour to make the beſt of it.

Well, Polly; as far as one Woman can for⯑give another, I forgive thee—Your Father is too fond of you, Huſſy.

Then all my Sorrows are at an end.

A mighty likely Speech in troth, for a Wench who is juſt married!

I hear Cuſtomers in a'other Room; Go, talk with 'em, Polly; but come to us again, as ſoon as they are gone.—But, heark ye, Child, if 'tis the Gentleman who was here Yeſterday about the Repeating-Watch; ſay, you believe we can't get Intelligence of it, till to-morrow. For I lent it to Suly Straddlo, to make a Figure with it to⯑night at a Tavern in Drury-Lane. If t'other Gentleman calls for the Silver-hilted Sword; you know Beetle-brow'd Jemmy hath it on, and he doth not come from Tunbridge till Tueſday Night; ſo that it cannot be had till then.

SCENE IX.

Dear Wife, be a little pacified. Don't let your Paſſion run away with your Senſes. Polly, I grant you, hath done a raſh thing.

If ſhe had had only an Intrigue with the Fellow, why the very beſt Families have excus'd and hud⯑dled up a Frailty of that ſort. 'Tis Marriage, Husband, that makes it a Blemiſh.

But Money, Wife, is the true Fuller's Earth for Reputations, there is not a Spot or a Stain but what it can take out. A rich Rogue now-a-days is fit Company for any Gentleman; and the World, my Dear, hath not ſuch a Contempt for Roguery as you imagine. I tell you, Wife, I can make this Match turn to our Advantage.

I am very ſenſible, Husband, that Captain Macheath is worth Money, but I am in doubt whether he hath not two or three Wives already, and then if he ſhould dye in a Seſſion or two, Polly's Dower would come into Diſpute.

That, indeed, is a Point which ought to be con⯑ſider'd.

The Lawyers are bitter Enemies to thoſe in our Way. They don't care that any Body ſhould get a Clandeſtine Livelihood but themſelves.

SCENE X.

'Twas only Nimming Ned. He brought in a Da⯑mask Window-Curtain, a Hoop-Petticoat, a Pair of Silver Candleſticks, a Periwig, and one Silk Stocking, from the Fire that happen'd laſt Night.

There is not a Fellow that is cleverer in his way, and ſaves more Goods out of the Fire than Ned. But now, Polly, to your Affair; for Matters muſt not be left as they are. You are married then, it ſeems?

Yes, Sir.

And how do you propoſe to live, Child?

Like other Women, Sir, upon the Induſtry of my Husband.

What, is the Wench turn'd Fool? A High⯑way-man's Wife, like a Soldier's, hath as little of his Pay; as of his Company.

And had not you the common Views of a Gen⯑tlewoman in your Marriage, Polly?

I don't know what you mean, Sir.

Of a Jointure, and of being a Widow.

But I love him, Sir: how then could I have Thoughts of parting with him?

Parting with him! Why, that is the whole Scheme and Intention of all Marriage Articles. The com⯑fortable [16] Eſtate of Widow-hood, is the only Hope that keeps up a Wife's Spirits. Where is the Woman who would ſcruple to be a Wife, if ſhe had it in her Power to be a Widow whenever ſhe pleas'd? If you have any Views of this ſort, Polly, I ſhall think the Match not ſo very un⯑ſeaſonable.

How I dread to hear your Advice! Yet I muſt beg you to explain yourſelf.

Secure what he hath got, have him peach'd the next Seſſions, and then at once you are made a rich Widow.

What, murder the Man I love! The Blood runs cold at my Heart with the very Thought of it.

Fye, Polly! What hath Murder to do in the Af⯑fair? Since the thing ſooner or later muſt happen, I dare ſay, the Captain himſelf would like that we ſhould get the Reward for his Death ſooner than a Stranger. Why, Polly, the Captain knows, that as 'tis his Employment to rob, ſo 'tis ours to take Robbers; every Man in his Buſineſs. So that there is no Malice in the Caſe.

Ay, Husband, now you have nick'd the Matter. To have him peach'd is the only thing could ever make me forgive her.

But your Duty to your Parents, Huſſy, o⯑bliges you to hang him. What would many a Wife give for ſuch an Opportunity!

What is a Jointure, what is Widow-hood to me? I know my Heart. I cannot ſurvive him.

Thus, Sir, it will happen to your poor Polly.

What, is the Fool in love in earneſt then? I hate thee for being particular: Why, Wench, thou art a Shame to thy very Sex.

But hear me, Mother.—If you ever lov'd—

Thoſe curſed Play-books ſhe reads have been her Ruin. One Word more, Huſſy, and I ſhall knock your Brains out, if you have any.

Keep out of the way, Polly, for fear of Miſchief, and conſider of what is propos'd to you.

Away, Huſſy, Hang your Husband, and be dutiful.

SCENE XI.

The Thing, Husband, muſt and ſhall be done. For the ſake of Intelligence we muſt take other Meaſures, and have him peach'd the next Seſſion without her Conſent. If ſhe will not know her Duty, we know ours.

But really, my Dear, it grieves one's Heart to take off a great Man. When I conſider his perſonal Bra⯑very, his fine Stratagem, how much we have already got by him, and how much more we may get, methinks I can't find in my Heart to have a Hand in his Death. I wiſh you could have made Polly undertake it.

But in a Caſe of Neceſſity—our own Lives are in danger.

Then, indeed, we muſt comply with the Cu⯑ſtoms of the World, and make Gratitude give way to In⯑tereſt.—He ſhall be taken off.

I'll undertake to manage Polly.

And I'll prepare Matters for the Old-Bailv.

SCENE XII.

Now I'm a Wretch, indeed.—Methinks I ſee him al⯑ready in the Cart, ſweeter and more lovely than the Noſe⯑gay in his Hand!—I hear the Crowd extolling his Reſo⯑lution 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 my ſelf 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 forever!—He intended to lye con⯑ceal'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.

SCENE XIII.

And are you as fond as ever, my Dear?

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 for⯑ſake thee!

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.

Were you ſentenc'd to Tranſportation, ſure, my Dear, you could not leave me behind you—could you?

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 Wo⯑man from a Looking-glaſs, or any Woman from Qua⯑drille.—But to tear me from thee is impoſſible!

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

How! Part!

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.

One Kiſs and then—one Kiſs—begone—farewel.

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

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?

Muſt I then go?

And will not Abſence change your Love?

If you doubt it, let me ſtay—and be hang'd.

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.

SCENE I.

BUT pr'ythee, Matt, what is become of thy Bro⯑ther Tom? I have not ſeen him ſince my Return from Tranſportation.

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 Surge⯑ons; and now, poor Man, he is among the Otamys at Sur⯑geon's Hall.

So it ſeems, his Time was come.

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, Gen⯑tlemen, [22] is our own by the Law of Arms, and the Right of Conqueſt.

Where ſhall we find ſuch another Set of practi⯑cal Philoſophers, who to a Man are above the Fear of Death?

Sound Men, and true!

Of try'd Courage, and indefatigable Induſtry!

Who is there here that would not dye for his Friend?

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

Show me a Gang of Courtiers that can ſay as much.

We are for a juſt Partition of the World, for eve⯑ry Man hath a Right to enjoy Life.

We retrench the Superfluities of Mankind. The World is avaritious, and I hate Avarice. A covetous Fel⯑low, like a Jack-daw, 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 a⯑nother, what he hath not the Heart to make uſe of?

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

SCENE II.

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

We were juſt breaking up to go upon Duty [...] 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 Stage-Coachmen 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.

I was to have been of that Party—but—

But what, Sir?

Is there any Man who ſuſpects my Courage?

We have all been Witneſſes of it.

My Honour and Truth to the Gang?

I'll be anſwerable for it.

In the Diviſion of our Booty, have I ever ſhown the leaſt Marks of Avarice or Injuſtice?

By theſe Queſtion ſomething ſeems to have ruf⯑fled you. Are any of us ſuſpected?

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

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

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

He knows nothing of this Meeting.

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 accom⯑modated 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 Directi⯑on, for the Moment we break looſe from him, our Gang is ruin'd.

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

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.

Your Inſtructions ſhall be obſerv'd. 'Tis now [24] high Time for us to repair to our ſeveral Duties; ſo till the Evening at our Quarters in Moor-fields we bid you fare⯑wel.

I ſhall wiſh my ſelf with you. Succeſs attend you.

SCENE III.

What a Fool is a fond Wench! Polly is moſt con⯑foundedly 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 oblig'd 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.

I muſt have Women. There is nothing unbends the Mind like them. Money is not ſo ſtrong a Cordial for the Time. Drawer.—

Is the Porter gone for all the Ladies, according to my Directions?

I expect him back every Minute. But you know, Sir, you ſent him as far as Hockley in the Holo, 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 Barr Bell. As they come I will ſhow them up. Coming, Coming.

SCENE IV.

Dear Mrs. Coaxer, you are welcome. You look charmingly to-day. I hope you don't want the Re⯑pairs of Quality, and lay on Paint.—Dolly Trull! kiſs me, you Slut; are you as amorous as ever, Huſſy? You are al⯑ways ſo taken up with ſtealing Hearts, that you don't al⯑low your ſelf Time to ſteal any thing elſe. Ah Dolly, thou wilt ever be a Coquette!—Mrs. Vixen, I'm yours, I al⯑ways lov'd a Woman of Wit and Spirit; they make charm⯑ing Miſtreſſes, but plaguy Wives—Betty Doxy! Come hither, Huſſy. Do you drink as hard as ever? You had better ſtick to good wholeſome Beer; for in troth, Betty, [26] Strong-Waters will in time ruin your Conſtitution. You ſhould leave thoſe to your Betters.—What! and my pret⯑ty 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. Slamakin! as care⯑leſs 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 Tally-men. Molly Brazen!

That's well done. I love a free-hearted Wench. Thou haſt a moſt agreeable Aſſu⯑rance, Girl, and art as willing as a Turtle.—But hark! I hear Muſick. The Harper is at the Door. If Muſick be the Food of Love, play on. E'er you ſeat your ſelves, Ladies, what think you of a Dance? Come in.

Play the French Tune, that Mrs. Slamekin was ſo fond of.

Now, pray Ladies, take your Places. Here Fellow,

Bid the Drawer bring us more Wine.

If any of the Ladies chuſe Ginn, I hope they will be ſo free to call for it.

You look as if you meant me. Wine is ſtrong enough for me. Indeed, Sir, I never drink Strong-Wa⯑ters, but when I have the Cholie.

Juſt the Excuſe of the fine Ladies! Why, a La⯑dy of Quality is never without the Cholic. I hope Mrs. Coaxer, you have had good Succeſs of late in your Viſits among the Mercers.

We have ſo many Interlopers—Yet with Indu⯑ſtry, one may ſtill have a little Picking. I carried a ſilver flower'd Luteſtring, and a Piece of black Padeſoy to Mr. Peachum's Lock but laſt Week.

There's Molly Brazen hath the Ogle of a Rattle-Snake. She rivetted a Linnen-draper's Eye ſo faſt upon her, that he was nick'd of three Pieces of Cambric before he could look off.

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 Wo⯑man!

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

If any Woman hath more Art than another, to be ſure, 'tis Jenny Diver. Though her Fellow be never ſo a⯑greeable, ſhe can pick his Pocket as cooly, as if Money were her only Pleaſure. Now that is a Command of the Paſſions uncommon in a Woman!

I never go to the Tavern with a Man, but in the View of Buſineſs. I have other Hours, and other ſort [28] of Men for my Pleaſure. But had I your Addreſs, Ma⯑dam—

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

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

Ah Jenny! thou art a dear Slut.

Pray, Madam, were you ever in keeping?

I hope, Madam, I ha'nt been ſo long upon the Town, but I have met with ſome good Fortune as well as my Neighbours.

Pardon me, Madam, I meant no harm by the Queſtion; 'twas only in the way of Converſation.

Indeed, Madam, if I had not been a Fool. I might have liv'd very handſomely with my laſt Friend. But upon his miſſing five Guineas, he turn'd me off. Now I never ſuſpected he had counted them.

Who do you look upon, Madam, as your beſt ſort of Keepers?

That, Madam, is thereafter as they be.

I, Madam, was once kept by a Jew; and bating their Religion, to Women they are a good ſort of People.

Now for my part, I own I like an old Fellow: for we always make them pay for what they can't do.

A ſpruce Prentice, let me tell you, Ladies, is no ill thing, they bleed freely. I have ſent at leaſt two or three dozen of them in my time to the Plantations.

But to be ſure, Sir, with ſo much good Fortune as you have had upon the Road, you muſt be grown im⯑menſely rich.

The Road, indeed, hath done me juſtice, but the Gaming-Table hath been my Ruin.

Theſe are the Tools of a Man of Honour. Cards and Dice are only fit for cowardly Cheats, who prey upon their Friends.

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.

Wanton Huſſies!

I muſt and will have a Kiſs to give my Wine a Zeſt,

SCENE V.

I ſeize you, Sir, as my Priſoner.

Was this well done Jenny?—Women are Decoy Ducks; who can truſt them! Beaſts, Jades, Jilts, Har⯑pies, Furies, Whores!

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. The Gentle⯑man, Ladies, lodges in Newgate. Conſtables, wait upon the Captain to his Lodgings.

Ladies, I'll take care the Reckoning ſhall be diſ⯑charg'd.

SCENE VI.

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.

I think Mr. Peachum, after ſo long an acquain⯑tance, might have truſted me as well as Jenny Diver.

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.

Mrs. Slamekin, that is not fair. For you know one of them was taken in Bed with me.

As far as a Bowl of Punch or a Treat, I believe Mrs. Suky will join with me.—As for any thing elſe, La⯑dies, you cannot in conſequence expect it.

Dear Madam—

I would not for the World—

'Tis impoſſible for me—

As I hope to be ſav'd, madam—

Nay, then I muſt ſtay here all Night—

Since you command me.

SCENE VII.

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.

Thoſe, Mr. Lockit, ſeem to be the heavieſt of the whole ſett. With your leave, I ſhould like the further pair better.

Look ye, Captain, you 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.

I underſtand you, Sir.

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.

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 ſit as eaſy as a Glove, and the niceſt Man in England might not be aſham'd to wear them.

If I had the beſt Gentleman in the Land in my Cuſtody I could not equip him more handſom⯑ly. And ſo, Sir—I now leave you to your private Medi⯑tations.

SCENE VII.

To what a woful plight have I brought my ſelf! 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 be⯑twixt 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 be⯑lieve us; for they look upon a Promiſe as an Excuſe for fol⯑lowing their own Inclinations.—But here comes Lucy, and I cannot get from her—Wou'd I were deaf!

SCENE IX.

You baſe Man you,—how can you look me in the Face after what hath paſt 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 hoſt robb'd me of my Quiet—to ſee thee tortur'd would give me pleaſure.

Have you no Bowels, no Tenderneſs, my dear Lucy, to ſee a Husband in theſe Circumſtances?

A Husband!

In ev'ry reſpect but the Form, and that, my Dear, may be ſaid over us at any time.—Friends ſhould not in⯑ſiſt upon Ceremonies. From a Man of Honour, his Word is as good as his Bond.

'Tis the pleaſure of all you fine Men to inſult the Women you have ruin'd.

The very firſt opportunity, my Dear, (have but patience) you ſhall be my Wife in whatever manner you pleaſe.

Inſinuating Monſter! And ſo you think I know nothing of the Affair of Miſs Polly Peachum.—I could tear thy Eyes out!

Sure Lucy, you can't be ſuch a Fool as to be jea⯑lous of Polly!

Are you not married to her, you Brute, you?

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 my ſelf; 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.

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.

A jealous Woman believes ev'ry 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.

That you are only to be hang'd, and ſo get rid of them both.

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?

So then it ſeems, you are not married to Miſs Polly.

You know, Lucy, the Girl is prodigiouſly con⯑ceited. 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.

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.

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.

SCENE X.

In this laſt Affair, Brother Peachum, we are agreed. You have conſented to go halves in Macheath.

We ſhall never fall out about an Execution.—But as to that Article, pray how ſtands our laſt Year's ac⯑count?

If you will run your Eye over it, you'll find 'tis fair and clearly ſtated.

This long Arrear of the Government is very hard upon us! Can it be expected that we ſhould hang our Ac⯑quaintance for nothing, when our Betters will hardly ſave theirs without being paid for it. Unleſs the People in em⯑ployment pay better, I promiſe them for the future, I ſhall let other Rogues live beſides their own.

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.

In one reſpect indeed, our Employment may be reckon'd diſhoneſt, becauſe, like Great Stateſmen, we en⯑courage thoſe who betray their Friends.

Such Language, Brother, any where elſe, might turn to your prejudice. Learn to be more guarded, I beg you.

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.

Mr. Peachum,—This is the firſt time my Ho⯑nour was ever call'd in Queſtion.

Buſineſs is at an end—if once we act diſhonour⯑ably.

Who accuſes me?

You are warm, Brother.

He that attacks my Honour, attacks my Lively⯑hood.—And this Uſage—Sir—is not to be born.

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-pa⯑ted Hugh. Indeed, indeed, Brother, we muſt punctually pay our Spies, or we ſhall have no Information.

Is this Language to me, Sirrah—who have ſav'd you from the Gallows, Sirrah!

If I am hang'd, it ſhall be for ridding the World of an arrant Raſcal.

This Hand ſhall do the Office of the Halter you de⯑ſerve, and throttle you—you Dog!—

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.

Nor you ſo provoking.

'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.

Brother Peachum—I can forgive as well as re⯑ſent.—Give me your Hand. Suſpicion does not become a Friend.

I only meant to give you occaſion to juſtifie your ſelf: But I muſt now ſtep home, for I expect the Gentle⯑man about this Snuff-box, that Filch nimm'd two Nights ago in the Park. I appointed him at this hour.

SCENE XI.

Whence come you, Huſſy?

My Tears might anſwer that Queſtion.

You have then been whimpering and fondling, like a Spaniel, over the Fellow that hath abus'd you.

One can't help Love; one can't cure it. 'Tis not in my Power to obey you, and hate him.

Learn to bear your Husband's Death like a reaſon⯑able 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.

Look ye, Lucy—There is no ſaving him—So. I think, you muſt ev'n do like other Widows—Buy your ſelf Weeds, and be cheerful.

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 your ſelf as eaſy as you can, by getting all you can from him.

SCENE XII.

Though the Ordinary was out of my 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.

But if I could raiſe a ſmall Sum—Would not twenty Guineas, think you, move him?—Of all the Ar⯑guments 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.

What Love or Money can do ſhall be done: for all my Comfort depends upon your Safety.

SCENE XIII.

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.

Was ever ſuch an unfortunate Raſcal as I am!

Was there ever ſuch another Villain!

O Macheath! was it for this we parted? Taken! Impriſon'd! Try'd! Hang'd!—cruel Reflection! I'll ſtay with thee 'till Death—no Force ſhall tear thy dear Wife from thee now,—What means my Love?—Not one kind Word! not one kind Look! think what thy Polly ſuffers to ſee thee in this Condition.

I muſt diſown her.

The Wench is di⯑ſtracted.

Am I then bilk'd of my Virtue? Can I have no Reparation? Sure Men were born to lye, and Women to believe them! O Villain! Villain!

Am I not thy Wife?—Thy Neglect of me, thy Averſion to me too ſeverely proves it.—Look on me—Tell me, am I not thy Wife?

Perfidious Wretch!

Barbarous Husband!

Hadſt thou been hang'd five Months ago, I had been happy.

And I too—If you had been kind to me 'till Death, it would not have vex'd me—And that's no very unreaſonable Requeſt, (though from a Wife) to a Man who hath not above ſeven or eight Days to live.

Art thou then married to another? Haſt thou two Wives, Monſter?

If Women's Tongues can ceaſe for an Anſwer—hear me.

I won't—Fleſh and Blood can't bear my Uſage.

Shall I not claim my own? Juſtice bids me ſpeak.

Sure, my Dear, there ought to be be ſome Prefe⯑ference ſhown to a Wife! At leaſt ſhe may claim the Ap⯑pearance of it. He muſt be diſtracted with his Misfortunes, or he could not uſe me thus!

O Villain, Villain! 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 Acquain⯑tance, than I now wiſh to have Facts againſt thee. I would have her Satisfaction, and they ſhould all out.

Be pacified, my dear Lucy—This is all a Fetch of Polly's, to make me deſperate with you in caſe I get off. If I am hang'd, ſhe would fain have the Credit of being thought my Widow—Really, Polly, this is no time for a Diſpute of this ſort; for whenever you are talking of Mar⯑riage, I am thinking of Hanging.

And haſt thou the Heart to perſiſt in diſowning me?

And haſt thou the Heart to perſiſt in perſuading me that I am married? Why, Polly, doſt thou ſeek to agra⯑vate my Misfortunes?

Really, Miſs Peachum, you but expoſe your ſelf. Beſides, '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 preſent.

But ſeriouſly, Polly, this is carrying the Joke a little too far.

If you are determin'd, Madam, to raiſe a Diſtur⯑bance in the Priſon, I ſhall be oblig'd to ſend for the Turn⯑key to ſhow you the Door. I am ſorry, Madam, you force me to be ſo ill-bred.

Give me leave to tell you, Madam; Theſe for⯑ward Airs don't become you in the leaſt, Madam. And my Duty, Madam, obliges me to ſtay with my Husband, Madam.

SCENE XIV.

Where's my Wench? Ah Huſſy! Huſſy!—Come you home, you Slut; and when your Fellow is hang'd, hang yourſelf, to make your Family ſome amends.

Dear, dear Father, do not tear me from him—I muſt ſpeak; I have more to ſay to him—Oh! twiſt thy Fetters about me, that he may not haul me from thee!

Sure all Women are alike! If ever they commit the Folly, they are ſure to commit another by expoſing themſelves—Away—Nota Word more—You are my Priſoner now, Huſſy.

SCENE XV.

I am naturally compaſſionate, Wife; ſo that I could not uſe the Wench as ſhe deſerv'd; which made you at firſt ſuſpect there was ſomething in what ſhe ſaid.

Indeed, my Dear, I was ſtrangely puzzled.

If that had been the Caſe, her Father would never have brought me into this Circumſtance—No, Lucy,—I had rather dye than be falſe to thee.

How happy am I, if you ſay this from your Heart! For I love thee ſo, that I could ſooner bear to ſee thee hang'd than in the Arms of another.

But couldſt thou bear to ſee me hang'd?

Oh Macheath, I can never live to ſee that Day.

You ſee, Lucy; in the Account of Love you are in my debt, and you muſt now be convinc'd, that I rather chuſe to die than be another's—Make me, if poſſible, love thee more, and let me owe my Life to thee—If you refuſe to aſſiſt me, Peachum and your Father will immediate⯑ly put me beyond all means of Eſcape.

My Father I know hath been drinking hard with the Priſoners: and I fancy he is now taking his Nap in his own Room—If I can procure the Keys, ſhall I go off with thee, my Dear?

If we are together, 'twill be impoſſible to lye con⯑ceal'd. As ſoon as the Search begins to be a little cool, I will ſend to thee—'Till then my Heart is thy Priſoner.

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 ſtrangely.

A Moment of time may make us unhappy for⯑ever.

SCENE I.

TO be ſure, Wench, you muſt have been aiding and abetting him to help him to this Eſcape.

Sir, here hath been Peachum and his Daughter Pol⯑ly, and to be ſure they know the ways of Newgate as well as if they had been born and bred in the Place all their Lives. Why muſtall your Suſpicion light upon me?

Lucy, Lucy, I will have none of theſe ſhuffling Anſwers.

Well then—If I know any Thing of him I wiſh I may be burnt!

Keep your Temper, Lucy, or I ſhall pronounce you guilty.

Keep yours, Sir,—I do wiſh I may be burnt. I do—And what can I ſay more to convince you?

Did he tip handſomely?—How much did he come down with? Come Huffy, cheat your Father; and I ſhall not be angry with you—Perhaps, you have made a better Bargain with him than I could have done—How much, my good Girl?

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

Ah Lucy! thy Education might have put thee more upon thy Guard; for a Girl in the Bar of an Ale-houſe is always beſieg'd.

Dear Sir, mention not my Education—for 'twas to that I owe my Ruin.

If you can forgive me, Sir, I will make a fair Confeſſion, for to be ſure he hath been a moſt barbarous Villain to me.

And ſo you havelet him eſcape, Huſſey—Have you?

When a Woman loves; a kind Look, a tender Word can perſwade her to any thing—And I could ask no other Bribe.

Thou wilt always be a vulgar Slut, Lucy.—If you would not be look'd upon as a Fool, you ſhould never do any thing upon the Foot of Intereſt. Thoſe that act otherwiſe are their own Bubbles.

But Love, Sir, is a Mistortune that may happen to the moſt diſcreet Woman, and in Love we are all Fools a⯑like.—Notwithſtanding all he ſwore, I am now fully con⯑vinc'd that Polly Peachum is actually his Wife.—Did I let him eſcape, (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.

So I am to be ruin'd, becauſe, forſooth you muſt be in Love!—a very pretty Excuſe!

I could murder that impudent happy Strumpet;—I gave him his Life, and that Creature enjoys the Sweets of it.—Ungrateful Macheath!

And ſo, after all this Miſchief, I muſt ſtay here to be entertain'd with your Caterwauling Miſtreſs Puſs!—Out of my Sight, wanton Strumpet! you ſhall faſt and mor⯑tify your ſelf into Reaſon, with now and then a little hand⯑ſome Diſcipline to bring you to your Senſes—Go.

SCENE II.

Peachum then intends to outwit me in this Affair; but I'll be even with him—The Dog is leaky with his Li⯑quor, ſo I'll ply him that way, get the Secret from him, and turn this Affair to my own Advantage.—Lions, Wolves, and Vultures don't live together in Herds, Droves or Flocks.—Of all Animals of Prey, Man is the only ſociable one Eye⯑ry one of us preys upon his Neighbour, and yet we herd to⯑gether.—Peachum is my Companion, my Friend—Ac⯑cording to the Cuſtom of the World, indeed, he may quote thouſands of Precedents for cheating me—And ſhall not I make uſe of the Privilege of Friendſhip to make him a Re⯑turn?

Now, Peachum, you and I, like honeſt Tradeſmen, are to have a fair Tryal which of us two can over-reach the o⯑ther.—Lucy.—

Are there any of Peachum's People now in the Houſe?

Filch, Sir, is drinking a Quartern of Strong-Wa⯑ters in the next Room with Black Moll.

Bid him come to me.

SCENE III.

Why, Boy thou lookeſt as if thou wert half ſtarv'd; like a ſhotten Herring.

One had need have the Conſtitution of a Horſe to go through the Buſineſs.—Since the favourite Child-getter was diſabled by a Mishap, I have pick'd up a little Money by helping the Ladies to a Pregnancy againſt their being call'd down to Sentence.—But if a Man cannot get an honeſt Livelyhood any eaſier way, I am ſure, 'tis what I can't un⯑dertake for another Seſſion.

Truly, if that great Man ſhould tip off, 'twould be an irreparable Loſs. The Vigor and Proweſs of a Knight Errant never ſav'd half the Ladies in Diſtreſs that he hath done.—But, Boy, can'ſt thou tell me where thy Maſter is to be found?

At his ^* Lock, Sir, at the Crooked Billet.

Very well.—I have nothing more with you.

I'll go to him there, for I have many impor⯑tant Affairs to ſettle with him; and in the way of thoſe Tranſactions, I'll artfully get into his Secret.—So that Macheath ſhall not remain a Day longer out of my Clutches.

SCENE IV.

I am ſorry, Gentlemen, the Road was ſo barren of Money. When my Friends are in Difficulties, I am al⯑ways glad that my Fortune can be ſerviceable to them.

You ſee, Gentlemen, I am not a meer Court Friend, who profeſſes every thing and will do no⯑thing.

But we, Gentlemen, have ſtill Honour enough to break through the Corruptions of the World.—And while I can ſerve you, you may command me.

It grieves my Heart that ſo generous a Man ſhould be involv'd in ſuch Difficulties, as oblige him to live with ſuch ill Company, and herd with Gameſters.

See the Partiality of Mankind!—One Man may ſteal a Horſe, better than another look over a Hedge—Of all Mechanics, of all ſervile Handycrafts-men, a Gameſter is the vileſt. But yet, as many of the Quality are of the Pro⯑feſſion, he is admitted amongſt the politeſt Company. I wonder we are not more reſpected.

There will be deep Play to-night at Marybone, and conſequently Money may be pick'd up upon the Road. Meer me there, and I'll give you the Hint who is worth Setting.

The Fellow with a brown Coat with a narrow Gold Binding, I am told, is never without Money.

What do you mean, Matt?—Sure you will not think of meddling with him!—He's a good honeſt kind of a Fellow, and one of us.

To be ſure, Sir, we will put our ſelves under your Direction.

Have an Eye upon the Money-Lenders.—A Rou⯑leau, or two, would prove a pretty ſort of an Expedition. I hate Extortion.

Thoſe Rouleaus are very pretty Things.—I hate your Bank Bills.—There is ſuch a Hazard in putting them off.

There is a certain Man of Diſtinction, who in his Time hath nick'd me out of a great deal of the Ready. He is in my Caſh, Ben;—I'll point him out to you this Even⯑ing, and you ſhall draw upon him for the Debt.—The Company are met; I hear the Dice-box in the other Room. So, Gentlemen, your Servant. You'll meet me at Mary⯑bone.

SCENE V.

The Coronation Account, Brother Peachum, is of ſo intricate'a Nature, that I believe it will never be ſettled.

It conſiſts indeed of a great Variety of Articles—It was worth to our People, in Fees of different Kinds [51] above ten Inſtalments.—This is part of the Account, Brother, that lies open before us.

A Lady's Tail of rich Brocade—that, I ſee, is diſpos'd of.

To Mrs. Diana Trapes, the Tally-woman, and ſhe will make a good Hand on't in Shoes and Slippers, to trick out young Ladies, upon their going into Keeping.—

But I don't ſee any Article of the Jewels.

Theſe are ſo well known, that they muſt be ſent abroad—You'll find them enter'd under the Article of Exportation.—As for the Snuff-Boxes, Watches, Swords, &c.—I thought it beſt to enter them under their ſeveral Heads.

Seven and twenty Women's Pockets compleat; with the ſeveral things therein contain'd; all Seal'd, Num⯑ber'd, and enter'd.

But, Brother, it is impoſſible for us now to enter upon this Affair.—We ſhould have the whole Day before us.—Beſides, the Account of the laſt Half Year's Plate is in a Book by it ſelf, which lies at the other Office.

Bring us then more Liquor.—To-day ſhall be for Pleaſure—To-morrow for Buſineſs.—Ah Brother, thoſe Daughters of ours are two ſlippery Huſſies—Keep a watchful Eye upon Polly, and Macheath in a Day or two ſhall be our own again.

But what ſignifies catching the Bird, if your Daugh⯑ter Lucy will ſet open the Door of the Cage?

If Men were anſwerable for the Follies and Frail⯑ties of their Wives and Daughters, no Friends could keep a good Correſpondence together for two Days.—This is unkind of you, Brother; for among good Friends, what they ſay or do goes for nothing.

Sir, here's Mrs. Diana Trapes wants to ſpeak with you.

Shall we admit her, Brother Lockit?

By all means—She's a good Cuſtomer, and a fine ſpoken Woman—And a Woman who drinks and talks ſo freely, will enliven the Converſation.

Deſire her to walk in.

SCENE VI.

Dear Mrs. Dye, your Servant—One may know by your Kiſs, that your Ginn is excellent.

I was always very curious in my Liquors.

There is no perfum'd Breath like it—I have been long acquainted with the Flavour of thoſe Lips—Han't I, Mrs. Dye?

Fill it up.—I take as large Draughts of Liquor, as I did of Love.—I hate a Flincher in either.

But now Mr. Peachum, to our Buſineſs,—If you have Blacks of any kind, brought in of late; Mantoes—Velvet Scafs—Petticoats—Let it be what it will—I am your Chap—for all my Ladies are very fond of Mourning.

Why, look ye, Mrs. Dye—you deal ſo hard with us, that we can afford to give the Gentlemen, who venture their Lives for the Goods, little or nothing.

The hard Times oblige me to go very near in my Dealing.—To be ſure, of late Years I have been a great Sufferer by the Parliament.—Three thouſand Pounds would hardly make me amends.—The Act for Deſtroying the Mint, was a ſevere Cut upon our Buſineſs—'Till then, if a Cuſtomer ſtept out of the way—we knew where to have her—No doubt you know Mrs. Coaxer—there's a Wench now ('till to-day) with a good Suit of Cloaths of mine upon her Back, and I could never ſet Eyes upon her for three Months together—Since the Act too againſt Im⯑priſonment for ſmall Sums, my Loſs there too hath been very conſiderable, and it muſt be ſo, when a Lady can bor⯑row a handſome Petticoat, or a clean Gown, and I not have the leaſt Hank upon her! And, o' my Conſcience, now-a-days moſt Ladies take a Delight in cheating, when they can do it with Safety.

Madam, you had a handſome Gold Watch of us t'other Day for ſeven Guineas.—Conſidering we muſt have our Profit—To a Gentleman upon the Road, a Gold Watch will be ſcarce worth the taking.

Conſider, Mr. Peachum, that Watch was remark⯑able, and not of very ſafe Sale.—If you have any black Velvet Scarfs—they are a handſome 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 Gentle⯑men 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 Sur⯑geon's Hands,—what with Fees and other Expences, there are great Goings-out, and no Comings-in, and not a Far⯑thing to pay for at leaſt a Month's cloathing.—We run great Riſques—great Riſques indeed.

As I remember, you ſaid ſomething juſt now of Mrs. Coaxer.

Yes, Sir.—To be ſure I ſtript her of a Suit of my own Cloaths about two hours ago; and have left her as ſhe ſhould be, in her Shift, with a Lover of hers at my Houſe. She call'd him up Stairs, as he was going to Mary-bone [54] 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.

What Captain?

He thought I did not know him—An intimate Acquaintance of yours, Mr. Peachum—Only Captain Macheath—as fine as a Lord.

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-cloaths for your own wearing?—But are you ſure it is Captain Macheath?

Though he thinks I have forgot him; no Body knows him better. I have taken a great deal of the Cap⯑tain's Money in my Time at a ſecond-hand, for he always lov'd to have his Ladies well dreſt.

Mr. Lockit and I have a little buſineſs with the Captain;—You underſtand me—and we will ſatis⯑fy you for Mrs. Coaxer's Debt.

Depend upon it—we will deal like Men of Ho⯑nour.

I don't enquire 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 ſave ſomething in Hand.

SCENE VII.

Jealouſy, Rage, Love and Fear, are at once tearing me to pieces. How I am weather-beaten and ſhatter'd with Di⯑ſtreſſes!

I have the Rats-bane ready.—I run no Riſque; for I can lay her Death upon the Gin, and ſo many dye of that naturally that I ſhall never be call'd in Queſtion.—But ſay, I were to be hang'd—I never could be hang'd for any thing that would give me greater Comfort, than the poyſoning that Slut.

Madam, here's our Miſs Polly come to wait upon you.

Show her in.

SCENE VIII.

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 out of my ſelf. And really when one hath the Spleen, every thing is to be excus'd by a Friend.

—I wiſh all our Quarrels might have ſo comfortable a Reconciliation.

I have no Excuſe for my own Behaviour, Madam, but my Misfortunes.—And really, Madam, I ſuffer too upon your Account.

But, Miſs Polly—in the way of Friendſhip, will you give me leave to propoſe a Glaſs of Cordial to you?

Strong-Waters are apt to give me the Head-ache—I hope, Madam, you will excuſe me.

Not the greateſt Lady in the Land could have bet⯑ter in her Cloſet, for her own private drinking.—You ſeem mighty low in Spirits, my Dear.

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 haul'd me away ſo unexpectedly—I was indeed ſomewhat provok'd, and perhaps might uſe ſome Expreſ⯑ſions that were diſreſpectful—But really, Madam, the Captain treated me with ſo much Contempt and Cruelty, that I deſerv'd your Pity, rather than your Reſentment.

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.

Sure, Madam, you cannot think me ſo happy as to be the Object of your Jealouſy.—A Man is always a⯑fraid of a Woman who loves him too well—ſo that I muſt expect to be neglected and avoided.

Then our Caſes, my dear Polly, are exactly alike. Both of us indeed have been too fond.

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.

But really, Miſtreſs Lucy, by his laſt Behaviour; I think I ought to envy you.—When I was forc'd from him, he did not ſhow the leaſt Tenderneſs.—But perhaps, he hath a Heart not capable of it.

The Coquets of both Sexes are Self-lovers, and that is a Love no other whatever can diſpoſſeſs. I fear, my dear Lucy, our Husband is one of thoſe.

Away with theſe melancholy Reflections,—in⯑deed, my dear Polly, we are both of us a Cup too low.—Let me prevail upon you, to accept of my Offer.

I can't bear, Child, to ſee you in ſuch low Spirits.—And I muſt perſuade you to what I know will do you good.—I ſhall now ſoon be even with the hypocritical Strumpet.

SCENE X.

All this wheedling of Lucy cannot be for nothing.—At this time too! when I know ſhe hates me!—The Diſſembling of a Woman is always the Fore-runner 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.

SCENE X.

Come, Miſs Polly.

Indeed, Child, you have given yourſelf trouble to no purpoſe.—You muſt, my Dear, excuſe me.

Really, Miſs Polly, you are ſo ſqueamiſhly affect⯑ed 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 never ſo well) are always taken by us with ſome Reluctance—unleſs 'tis in private.

I proteſt, Madam, it goes againſt me.—What do I ſee! Macheath again in Cuſtody!—Now every glimm'ring of Happineſs is loſt.

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.

SCENE XI.

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 Tryal immediately.

Away, Huſſies!—This is not a time for a Man to be hamper'd with his Wives.—You ſee, the Gentle⯑man is in Chains already.

O Husband, Husband, my Heart long'd to ſee thee; but to ſee thee thus diſtracts me!

Will not my dear Husband look upon his Polly? Why hadſt thou not flown to me for Protection? with me thou hadſt been ſafe.

What would you have me ſay, Ladies?—You ſee, this Affair will ſoon be at an end, without my diſo⯑bliging either of you.

But the ſettling this Point, Captain, might pre⯑vent a Law-ſuit between your two Widows.

But if his own Misfortunes have made him inſen⯑ſible to mine—A Father ſure will be more compaſſi⯑onate.—Dear, dear Sir, ſink the material Evidence, and bring him off at his Tryal—Polly upon her Knees begs it of you.

If Peachum's Heart is harden'd; ſure you, Sir, will have more Compaſſion on a Daughter.—I know the Evidences is in your Power.—How then can you be a Tyrant to me?

Macheath's time is come, Lucy.—We know our own Affairs, therefore let us have no more Whimpering or Whining.

Set your Heart at reſt, Polly.—Your Husband is to dye to-day.—Therefore, if you are not already provi⯑ded, 'tis high time to look about for another. There's Com⯑fort for you, you Slut.

We are ready, Sir, to conduct you to the Old-Boily.

Now, Gentlemen, I am ready to attend you.

SCENE XII.

Follow them, Filch, to the Court. And when the Tryal is over, bring me a particular Account of his Be⯑haviour, [62] and of every thing that happen'd.—You'll find me here with Miſs Lucy.

But why is all this Muſick?

The Priſoners, whoſe Tryals are put off till next Seſſion, are diverting themſelves.

Sure there is nothing ſo charming as Muſick! I'm fond of it to Diſtraction!—But alas!—now, all Mirth ſeems an Inſult upon my Affliction.—Let us retire, my dear Lucy, and indulge our Sorrows.—The noiſy Crew, you ſee, are coming upon us.

SCENE XIII.

Some Friends of yours, Captain, deſire to be ad⯑mitted—I leave you together.

SCENE XIV.

For my having broke Priſon, you ſee, Gentle⯑men, I am order'd immediate Execution.—The Sheriffs Officers, I believe, are now at the Door.—That Jemmy Twitcher ſhould peach me, I own ſurpriz'd me!—'Tis a plain Proof that the World is all alike, and that even our Gang can no more truſt one another than other People. Therefore, I beg you, Gentlemen, look well to yourſelves, for in all probability you may live ſome Months longer.

We are heartily ſorry, Captain, for your Misfor⯑tune.—But 'tis what we muſt all come to.

Peachum and Lockit, you know, are infamous Scoundrels. Their Lives are as much in your Power, as yours are in theirs.—Remember your dying Friend!—'Tis my laſt Requeſt—Bring thoſe Villains to the Gallows before you, and I am ſatisfied.

We'll do't.

Miſs Polly and Miſs Lucy intreat a Word with you.

Gentlemen, adieu.

SCENE XV.

My dear Lucy—My dear Polly—Whatſoever hath paſt between us is now at an end.—If you are fond of marrying again, the beſt Advice I can give you▪ is to ſhip yourſelves off for the Weſt-Indies, where you'll have a [65] fair Chance of getting a Husband a-piece; or by good Luck, two or three, as you like beſt.

How can I ſupport this Sight!

There is nothing moves one ſo much as a great Man in Diſtreſs.

Four Women more, Captain, with a Child a-piece! See, here they come.

What—four Wives more!—This is too much.—Here—tell the Sheriffs Officers I am ready.

SCENE XVI.

But, honeſt Friend, I hope you don't intend that Macheath ſhall be really executed.

Moſt certainly, Sir.—To make the Piece perfect, I was for doing ſtrict poetical Juſtice.—Macheath is to [66] be hang'd; and for the other Perſonages of the Drama, the Audience muſt have ſuppos'd they were all either hang'd or tranſported.

Why then, Friend, this is a down-right deep Tra⯑gedy. The Cataſtrophe is manifeſtly wrong, for an Opera muſt end happily.

Your Objection, Sir, is very juſt; and is eaſily re⯑mov'd. For you muſt allow, that in this kind of Drama, 'tis no matter how abſurdly things are brought about.—So—you Rabble there—run and cry a Reprieve—let the Priſoner be brought back to his Wives in Triumph.

All this we muſt do, to comply with the Taſte of the Town.

Through the whole Piece you may obſerve ſuch a Similitude of Manner in high and low Life, that it is diffi⯑cult to determine whether (in the faſhionable Vices) the fine Gentlemen imitate the Gentlemen of the Road, or the Gentlemen of the Road the fine Gentlemen.—Had the Play remain'd, as I at firſt intended, it would have car⯑ried a moſt excellent Moral. 'Twould have ſhown that the lower Sort of People have their Vices in a degree as well as the Rich: And that they are puniſh'd for them.

SCENE XVII.

So, it ſeems, I am not left to my Choice, but muſt have a Wife at laſt.—Look ye, my Dears, we will have no Controverſie now. Let us give this Day to Mirth, and I am ſure ſhe who thinks her ſelf my Wife will teſtify her Joy by a Dance.

Come, a Dance—a Dance.

Ladies, I hope you will give me leave to preſent a Partner to each of you. And (if I may without Offence) for this time, I take Polly for mine.—And for Life, you Slut,—for we were really marry'd.—As for the reſt.—But at preſent keep your own Secret.