Mrs. Peachum. With Polly’s Fortune, she might very well have gone off to a Person of Distinction. Yes, that you might, you pouting Slut!
Peachum. What is the Wench dumb? Speak, or I’ll make you plead by squeezing out an Answer from you.
Are you really bound Wife to him, or are you only upon liking? Pinches her.
Polly. Oh! Screaming.
Mrs. Peachum. How the Mother is to be pitied who hath handsom Daughters! Locks, Bolts, Bars, and Lectures of Morality are nothing to them: They break through them all. They have as much Pleasure in cheating a Father and Mother, as in cheating at Cards.
Peachum. Why, Polly, I shall soon know if you are married, by Macheath’s keeping from our House.
[ AIR VIII. Grim King of the Ghosts, &c.]
Polly.