Mrs. Trapes. Fill it up—I take as large Draughts of Liquor, as I did of Love.—I hate a Flincher in either.
[ AIR XLV. A Shepherd kept Sheep, &c.]
In the Days of my Youth I could bill like a Dove, fa, la, la, &c.
Like a Sparrow at all times was ready for Love, fa, la, la, &c.
The Life of all Mortals in Kissing should pass,
Lip to Lip while we’re young—then the Lip to the Glass, fa, la, &c.
But now, Mr. Peachum, to our Business.—If you have Blacks of any kind, brought in of late; Mantoes—Velvet Scarfs—Petticoats—Let it be what it will—I am your Chap—for all my Ladies are very fond of Mourning.
Peachum. 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.