Polly. Nay, my Dear, I have no Reason to doubt you, for I find in the Romance you lent me, none of the great Heroes were ever false in Love.
[ AIR XV. Pray, Fair one, be kind—]
Macheath.
My Heart was so free,
It rov’d like the Bee,
’Till Polly my Passion requited;
I sipt each Flower,
I chang’d every Hour,