Ourselves, like the Great, to secure a Retreat,
When Matters require it, must give up our Gang:
And good reason why,
Or, instead of the Fry,
Ev’n Peachum and I.
Like poor petty Rascals, might hang, hang;
Like poor petty Rascals, might hang.
Peachum. Set your Heart at rest, Polly.—Your Husband is to die to-day.—Therefore if you are not already provided, ’tis high time to look about for another. There’s Comfort for you, you Slut.
Lockit. We are ready, Sir, to conduct you to the Old Baily.