With Boasts the Theft reveals.
Macheath. The very first Opportunity, my Dear, (have but Patience) you shall be my Wife in whatever manner you please.
Lucy. Insinuating Monster! And so you think I know nothing of the Affair of Miss Polly Peachum.—I could tear thy Eyes out!
Macheath. Sure, Lucy, you can’t be such a Fool as to be jealous of Polly!
Lucy. Are you not married to her, you Brute, you.
Macheath. Married! Very good. The Wench gives it out only to vex thee, and to ruin me in thy good
Opinion. ’Tis true, I go to the House; I chat with the Girl, I kiss her, I say a thousand things to her (as all Gentlemen do) that mean nothing, to divert myself; and now the silly Jade hath set it about that I am married to her, to let me know what she would be at. Indeed, my dear Lucy, these violent Passions may be of ill consequence to a Woman in your Condition.
Lucy. Come, come, Captain, for all your Assurance, you know that Miss Polly hath put it out of your Power to do me the Justice you promis’d me.
Macheath. A jealous Woman believes every thing her Passion suggests. To convince you of my Sincerity, if we can find the Ordinary, I shall have no Scruples of making you my Wife; and I know the Consequence of having two at a time.
Lucy. That you are only to be hang’d, and so get rid of them both.