After the Song he follows her—the Pimp struts about and sings.
AIR III. Maggy Lawther.
Pimping is a Science, Sir, The only Mode and Fashion, To Virtue bids Defiance, Sir, 'Tis the Glory of the Nation. In City, Country, or in Court, It is the Coup d'Grace, Sir; If you your Patron's Vice support, You need not fear a Place, Sir.
The Lawyer pimps to gain a Coif, While Porters pimp for Hire; Kind Betty serves his Worship's Wife, The Page pimps for the Squire, 'Tis pimping gains a large Estate, Makes Valets wear their Swords, Sir, For Pimps oft look as big and great, As any Duke or Lord, Sir.
After the Song he follows the Debauchee.—The Scene changes to the Street; the Debauchee having found Harlequin in Company with Miss Kitty, turns her out of Doors, and the Pimp kicks out Harlequin; Kitty goes out in the greatest Distress—Harlequin by his Action signifies he's in Love, and is in doubt whether to hang or drown himself, or cut his Throat, &c. At length he resolves to follow her, and determines to dress himself like a smart Cadet, in order to address her: To accomplish which he strikes the Ground, and there rises a Dressing-Table fix'd in a Cloud, furnish'd with all necessary Appurtenances.——After he is drest, the Table vanishes and he goes out. The Scene changes to the Lodging that Beau Mordecai has provided for Kitty, whom he has just taken into high Keeping. (This Scene is taken from the Second Print) she is discovered lolling upon a Settée, attended by her Maid and Black-Boy, admiring the Grandeur of which she is possess'd, and then sings.
AIR IV. Oh! what Pleasures will abound.
Who wou'd not a Mistress be, Kept in Splendor thus like me? Deckt in golden rich Array, Sparkling at each Ball and Play! Gaily toying, Sweets enjoying Foreign to that thing a Wife, Flirting, flaunting, Jilting, jaunting, Oh the Charming happy Life!
After the Song Harlequin creeps from under her Toilet, in the Habit of the Cadet, and courts Miss Kitty; she appears Coy at first, but at length yields to him.—Then sings.
AIR V. Lad's a Dunce.
Thus finely set out, I'll make such a Rout, And top all the Rantipole Girls of the Town; With Glances so bright, Lords and Dukes I'll delight, And make all the Rakes with their Ready come down, The Stock-jobbing Cit, For a hundred I'll hit, While me he is rifling, I'll riflle his Purse; With Saint-like Smile I'll Zealots beguile, And make the fond Hypocrite freely disburse.