[A Dance a la ronde in the French manner;
near the end of it this song and Chorus.
AIR XXII. Cotillon.
Youth’s the Season made for Joys,
Love is then our Duty,
She alone who that employs,
Well deserves her Beauty.
Let’s be gay,
While we may,
Beauty’s a Flower, despis’d in Decay.
Youth’s the Season, &c.
Let us drink and sport to-day,
Ours is not to-morrow.
Love with Youth flies swift away,
Age is nought but Sorrow.
Dance and sing,
Time’s on the Wing.
Life never knows the Return of Spring.
Chorus. Let us drink, &c.
Macheath. Now, pray Ladies, take your Places. Here Fellow. [Pays the Harper.] Bid the Drawer bring us more Wine. [Exit Harper.] If any of the Ladies choose Ginn, I hope they will be so free to call for it.
Jenny. You look as if you meant me. Wine is strong enough for me. Indeed, Sir, I never drink Strong-Waters, but when I have the Cholic.
Macheath. Just the Excuse of the fine Ladies! Why, a Lady of Quality is never without the Cholic. I hope, Mrs. Coaxer, you have had good Success of late in your Visits among the Mercers.
Mrs. Coaxer. We have so many Interlopers—Yet with Industry, one may still have a little Picking. I carried a silver-flowered Lutestring, and a Piece of black Padesoy to Mr. Peachum’s Lock but last Week.
Mrs. Vixen. There’s Molly Brazen hath the Ogle of a Rattle-Snake. She rivetted a Linen-Draper’s Eye so fast upon her, that he was nick’d of three Pieces of Cambric before he could look off.