"What think you, doctor?" whispered Gay to Pepusch. "Can you see her as Polly—not Peggy mind ye—I'm fixed on Polly Peachum."
"De girl ver goot voice has. But dat one song—it tell me noting. Can she Haendel sing?"
"That I know not, but I'll warrant she'll not be a dunce with Purcell. And you must admit, doctor, that your George Frederick Handel is much beholden to our Henry Purcell."
"Vat?" cried Pepusch a little angrily. "Nein—nein. Haendel the greatest composer of music in de vorld is."
"I grant you his genius but he comes after Purcell. Have you heard Purcell's setting of 'Arise, ye subterranean winds?' If not, I'll get Leveridge to sing it. Has not your Handel helped himself to that? Not note for note, but in style, in dignity, in expression? Ah, I have you there. But we mustn't quarrel. You must hear the girl again. Look 'ee here. Have we not agreed that 'Virgins are like the Fair Flower' in the first act shall be set to Purcell's 'What shall I do to show how much I love her?' I would have you play the air and Polly shall sing it."
"Sing dat air? But it most difficult is. It haf de trills—de appogiaturas. Has she dem been taught?"
"You will soon see. For myself I hold not with the Italian style and its eternal ornament and repetitions."
"Aha—ha Mistare Gay, I haf you now," chuckled Pepusch. "Your Purcell Engleesh is. He copy de Italian den."
"Oh, may be—may be in his own style," rejoined Gay hastily. "But here is my verse. Oblige me with the music."
During the discussion Gay had been turning over a pile of manuscript on the table. This manuscript was a rough draft of the "Beggar's Opera." Pepusch had before him the music of a number of tunes, most of them well known, selected by Gay and himself as suitable for the songs in the opera. Poet and musician had had repeated differences as to the choice of melodies but things had now fairly settled down.