AIR XXXVI.
Polly. Cease your Funning;
Force or Cunning
Never shall my Heart trapan.
All these Sallies
Are but Malice
To seduce my constant Man.
’Tis most certain,
By their flirting
Women oft’ have Envy shown.
Pleas’d, to ruin
Others wooing;
Never happy in their own.
Polly. Decency, Madam, methinks might teach you to behave yourself with some Reserve with the Husband, while his Wife is present.
Macheath. But seriously, Polly, this is carrying the Joke a little too far.
Lucy. If you are determin’d, Madam, to raise a Disturbance in the Prison, I shall be obliged to send for the Turnkey to shew you the Door. I am sorry, Madam, you force me to be so ill-bred.
Polly. Give me leave to tell you, Madam: These forward Airs don’t become you in the least, Madam. And my Duty, Madam, obliges me to stay with my Husband, Madam.
AIR XXXVII. Good-morrow, Gossip Joan.
Lucy. Why how now, Madam Flirt?
If you thus must chatter;
And are for flinging Dirt,
Let’s try who best can spatter;
Madam Flirt.
Polly. Why how now, saucy Jade;
Sure the Wench is tipsy!
How can you see me made [To him.]
The Scoff of such a Gipsy?
Saucy Jade! [To her.]
Enter Peachum.
Peachum. 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.
Polly. 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!
Peachum. Sure all Women are alike! If ever they commit the Folly, they are sure to commit another by exposing themselves—Away—Not a Word more—You are my Prisoner, now, Hussy.
AIR XXXVIII. Irish Howl.
Polly. No Power on Earth can e’er divide
The Knot that sacred Love hath ty’d.
When Parents draw against our Mind,
The True-Love’s Knot they faster bind.
Oh, oh ray, oh Amborah—oh, oh, &c.
[Holding Macheath, Peachum pulling her.