[Collaring each other.
Peachum. If I am hang’d, it shall be for ridding the World of an arrant Rascal.
Lockit. This Hand shall do the Office of the Halter you deserve, and throttle you—you Dog!—
Peachum. Brother, Brother—We are both in the Wrong—We shall be both Losers in the Dispute—for you know we have it in our Power to hang each other. You should not be so passionate.
Lockit. Nor you so provoking.
Peachum. ’Tis our mutual Interest; ’tis for the Interest of the World we should agree. If I said any thing, Brother, to the Prejudice of your Character, I ask pardon.
Lockit. Brother Peachum—I can forgive as well as resent.—Give me your Hand. Suspicion does not become a Friend.
Peachum. I only meant to give you Occasion to justify yourself: But I must now step home, for I expect the Gentleman about this Snuff-box, that Filch nimm’d two Nights ago in the Park. I appointed him at this Hour.
[Exit Peachum.
Enter Lucy.