When he holds up his Hand arraign’d for his Life,
O think of your Daughter, and think I’m his Wife!
What are Canons, or Bombs, or clashing of Swords?
For Death is more certain by Witnesses Words.
Then nail up their Lips; that dread Thunder allay;
And each Month of my Life will hereafter be May.
Lockit. Macheath’s Time is come, Lucy.—We know our own Affairs, therefore let us have no more Whimpering or Whining.
[ AIR LV. A Cobler there was, &c.]
