ever to grow rich. Marybone and the chocolate-houses are his undoing. The man, that proposes to get money by play, should have the education of a fine gentleman, and be trained up to it from his youth. Mrs. Peach. Really I am sorry upon Polly's account, the captain hath not more discretion. What business hath he to keep company with lords and gentlemen? he should leave them to prey upon one another. Peach. Upon Polly's account! What a plague does the woman mean? Upon Polly's Peach. Look ye, wife, a handsome wench in our way of business, is as profitable as at the bar of a Temple coffee-house, who looks upon it as her livelihood to grant every liberty but one. My daughter, to me, should be like a court-lady to a minister of state-a key to the whole gang. Married! if the affair is not already done, I'll terrify her from it, by the example of our neighbours. Mrs. Peach. Mayhap, my dear, you may injure the girl: she loves to imitate the fine ladies, and she may only allow the captain liberties in the view of interest. the city. Peach. But 'tis your duty, my dear, to warn the girl against her ruin, and to instruct her how to make the most of her beauty. I'll go to her this moment, and sift her. In the mean time, wife, rip out the coronets and marks of these dozen of cambric handkerchiefs; for I can dispose of them this afternoon to a chap in [Exit. Mrs. Peach. Never was a man more out of the way in an argument than my husband! Why must our Polly, forsooth, differ from her sex, and love only her husband? And why must Polly's marriage, contrary to all observation, make her the less followed by other men? All men are thieves in love, and like a woman the better for being another's property. Enter FILCH. Come hither, Filch! I am as fond of this child as though my mind misgave me he were my own. He hath as fine a hand at picking a pocket as a woman, and is as nimble-fingered as a juggler. If an unlucky session does not cut the rope of thy life, I pronounce, boy, thou wilt be a great man in history. Where was your post last night, my boy? Filch. I ply'd at the opera, madam; and considering 'twas neither dark nor rainy, so that there was no great hurry in getting chairs and coaches, made a tolerable hand on't. These seven handkerchiefs, madam. Mrs. Peach. Coloured ones, I see. They are of sure sale, from our warehouse at Redriff, among the seamen. Filch. And this snuff-box. Mrs. Peach. Set in gold! a pretty encouragement this to a young beginner! Filch. I had a fair tug at a charming gold watch. Pox take the tailors for making the fobs so deep and narrow! It stuck by the way, and I was forced to make my escape under a coach. Really, madam, I fear I shall be cur off in the flower of my youth; so that, every now and then, since I was pumped, I have thoughts of taking up, and going to sea. Mrs. Peach. You should go to Hockley-inthe-Hole, and to Marybone, child, to learn valour: these are the schools that have bred so many brave men. I thought, boy, by this time, thou hadst lost fear, as well as shame. Poor lad! how little does he know as yet of the Old Bailey! For the first fact I'll ensure thee from being hanged; and going to sea, Filch, will come time enough upon a sentence of transportation. But now, since you have nothing better to do, even go to your book, and learn your catechism; for really a man makes but an ill figure in the Ordinary's paper, who cannot give a satisfactory answer to his questions. But hark you, my lad? don't tell me a lie, for you know I hate a liar; Do you know of any thing that has passed between captain Macheath and our Polly? Filch. I beg you, madam, don't ask me; for I must either tell a lie to you or to Miss Polly, for I promised her I would not tell. Mrs. Peach. But when the honour of our family is concerned Filch. I shall lead a sad life with Miss Polly, if ever she come to know that I told you. Besides, I would not willingly forfeit my own honour, by betraying any body. Mrs. Peach. Yonder comes my husband and Polly. Come, Filch, you shall go with me into my own room, and tell me the whole story. I'll give thee a glass of a most delicious cordial, that I keep for my own drinking. [Exeunt. Enter PEACHUM and POLLY. Polly. I know as well as any of the fine ladies how to make the most of myself, and of my man too. A woman knows how to be mercenary, though she hath never been at court, or at an assembly: we have it in our natures, papa. If I allow captain Macheath some trifling liberties, I have this watch and other visible marks of his favour to shew for it. A girl, who cannot grant some things, and refuse what is most material, will make but a poor hand of her beauty, and soon be thrown upon the Peach. Let not your anger, my dear, break through the rules of decency; for the captain looks upon himself, in the military capacity, as a gentleman by his profession. Besides what AIR. What shall I do to shew how much I love he hath already, I know he is in a fair way of common. her? Virgins are like the fair flower in its lustre, Rots, stinks, and dies, and is trod under feet. Peach. You know, Polly, I am not against your toying and trifling with a customer in the way of business, or to get out a secret or so; but if I find out that you have played the fool, and are married, you jade you, I'll cut know your throat, hussy! Now, you my Enter MRS. PEACHUM. AIR.-O London is a fine town. mind. MRS. PEACHUM [in a very great passion.] Our Polly is a sad slut! nor heeds what we have taught her, I wonder any man alive will ever rear a daugh ter! For she must have both hoods and gowns, and hoops to swell her pride, With scarfs and stays, and gloves and lace, and she'll have men beside; And when she's drest with care and cost, alltempting, fine and gay, As men should serve a cucumber, she flings herself away. You baggage! you hussy! you inconsiderate jade! had you been hanged it would not have vexed me, for that might have been your misfortune; but to do such a mad thing by choice! The wench is married, husband! Peach. Married! the captain is a bold man, and will risk any think for money: to be sure, he believes her a fortune. Do you think your mother and I should have lived comfortably so long together, if ever we had been married, baggage? Mrs. Peach. I knew she was always a proud slut, and now the wench hath played the fool and married, because, forsooth, she would do like the gentry! Can you support the expence of a husband, hussy, in gaming, and drinking? have you money enough to carry on the daily quarrels of man and wife, about who shall squander most? If you must be married, could you introduce nobody into our family but a highwayman? Why, thou foolish jade, thou wilt be as ill used, and as much neglected, as if thou hadst married a lord! | getting, or of dying; and both these ways, let me tell you, are most excellent chances for a wife. Tell me, hussy, are you ruined or no? Mrs. Peach. With Polly's fortune, she might very well have gone off to a person of distinction: yes, that you might, you pouting slut! Peach. What is the wench dumb? speak, or I'll make you plead by squeezing out an answer from you. Are you really bound wife to him, or are you only upon liking? [Pinches her. Polly. Oh! [Screaming. Mrs. Peach. How the mother is to be pitied, who hath handsome daughters? Locks, bolts, bars, and lectures of morality, are nothing to them; they break through them all: they have as much pleasure in cheating a father and mother, as in cheating at cards. Peach. Why, Polly, I shall soon know if you are married, by Macheath's keeping from our house. AIR.-Grim king of the ghosts, &c. Though my heart was as frozen as ice, Mrs. Peach. Then all the hopes of our family are gone for ever and ever! Peach. And Macheath may hang his father and mother-in-law, in hopes to get into their daughter's fortune. Polly. I did not marry him (as 'tis the fashion) coolly and deliberately for honour or money-but I love him. Mrs. Peach. Love him! worse and worse! I thought the girl had been better bred. Oh husband! husband! her folly makes me mad! my head swims! I'm distracted! I can't support [Faints. myself.-Oh! Peach. See, wench, to what a condition you have reduced your poor mother! A glass of cordial this instant! How the poor woman takes it to heart! [Polly goes out, and returns with it.] Ah, hussy! now this is the only comfort your mother has left. Polly. Give her another glass, sir; my mamma drinks double the quantity whenever she is out of order. This, you see, fetches her. Mrs. Peach. The girl shews such a readiness, and so much concern, that I could almost find in my heart to forgive her. AIR.-O Jenny, O Jenny! where hast thou been? | stain but what it can take out. O Polly! you might have toyed and kist ; By keeping men off you keep them on: And he so pleased me, What I did you must have done. Mrs. Peach. Not with a highwayman-you sorry slut! Peach. A word with you, wife. Tis no new thing for a wench to take a man without consent of parents. You know 'tis the frailty of woman, my dear. Mrs. Peach. Yes, indeed, the sex is frail; but the first time a woman is frail, she should be somewhat nice, methinks, for then or never is the time to make her fortune: after that, she hath nothing to do but to guard herself from being found out, and she may do what she pleases. Peach. Make yourself a little easy; I have a thought shall soon set all matters again to rights. Why so melancholy, Polly? since what is done cannot be undone, we must all endeavour to make the best of it. Mrs. Peach. Well, Polly, as far as one woman can forgive another, I forgive thee. Your father is too fond of you, hussy. Polly. Then all my sorrows are at an end. Mrs. Peach. A mighty likely speech, in troth, for a wench who is just married! AIR.-Thomas, I cannot, &c. For seized in the port the vessel's lost, My duty's paid; Ojoy beyond expression ! My all's in my possession. Peach. I hear customers in t'other room; go talk with them, Polly, but come again as soon as they are gone, But hark ye, child! if 'tis the gentleman who was here yesterday about the repeating watch, say, you believe we can't get intelligence of it till to-morrow, for I lent it to Sukey Straddle to make a figure with it to night at a tavern in Drury-lane. If t'other gentleman calls for the silver-hilted sword, you know beetle-browed Jemmy hath it on, and he doth not come from Tunbridge till Tuesday night; so that it cannot be had till then. [Exit POLLY.] Dear wife! be a little pacified; don't let your passion run away with your senses: Polly, I grant you, hath done a rash thing. A rich rogue now-a-days, is fit company for any gentleman; and the world, my dear, hath not such a contempt for roguery as you imagine, I tell you, wife, I can make this match turn to our advantage. Mrs. Peach. If she had only an intrigue with the fellow, why the very best families have excused and huddled up a frailty of that sort. Tis marriage, husband, that makes it a blemish. Peach. But money, wife, is the true fuller's earth for reputations; there is not a spot or a Mrs. Peach. I am very sensible husband, that captain Macheath is worth money; but I am in doubt whether he hath not two or three wives already, and then, if he should die in a session or two, Polly's dower would come into dispute. Peach. That, indeed, is a point which ought to be considered. The lawyers are bitter enemies to those in our way; they don't care that any body should get a clandestine livelihood but themselves. Enter POLLY. Polly. 'Twas only Nimming Ned; he brought in a damask window-curtain, a hoop-petticoat, a pair of silver candlesticks, a periwig, and one silk stocking, from the fire that happened last night. Peach. There is not a fellow that is cleverer in his way, and saves more goods out of the fire, than Ned. But now, Polly, to your affair; for matters must not be as they are. You are married, then it seems? Polly. Yes, sir. Peach. And how do you propose to live, child? Polly Like other women, sir; upon the industry of my husband. Mrs. Peach. What! is the wench turned fool? a highwayman's wife, like a soldier's, hath as little of his pay as his company. Peach. And had not you the common views of a gentlewoman in your marriage, Polly? Polly. I don't know what you mean, sir. Peach. Of a jointure, and of being a widow. Polly. But I love him, sir; how, then, could I have thoughts of parting with him? Peach. Parting with him! why that is the whole scheme and intention of all marriage articles. The comfortable estate of widowhood is the only hope that keeps up a wife's spirits.Where is the woman, who would scruple to be a wife, if she had it in her power to be a widow whenever she pleased? If you have any views of this sort, Polly, I shall think the match not so very unreasonable. Polly. How I dread to hear your advice! yet I must beg you to explain yourself. Peach. Secure what he hath got; have him peached the next sessions; and, then, at once, you are made a rich widow, Polly. What! murder the man I love! the blood runs cold at my heart with the very thought of it! Peach. Fie, Polly! what hath murder to do in the affair? Since the thing sooner or later must happen, I dare say the captain himself would like that we should get the reward for his death sooner than a stranger. Why, Polly, the captain knows that as 'tis his employment to 26 rob, so it is ours to take robbers; every man in his business so that there is no malice in the case. : Mrs. Peach. Ay, husband, now you have nicked the matter! To have him peached is the only thing could ever make me forgive her. AIR.-Now, ponder well, ye parents dear. To save a wretched wife; For, on the rope, that hangs my dear, Mrs. Peach. But your duty to your parents, hussy, obliges you to hang him. What would many a wife give for such an opportunity! Polly. What is a jointure? what is widowhood to me? I know my heart; I cannot survive him. AIR.-Le printemps rapelle aux armes. The turtle thus, with plaintive crying, Down she drops, quite spent with sighing, Thus, sir, it will happen to your poor Polly. Mrs. Peach. What! is the fool in love in earnest, then? I hate thee for being particular.-Why, wench, thou art a shame to thy very sex. Polly. But hear me, mother-if you loved ever Mrs. Peach. Those cursed play-books she reads have been her ruin! One word more, hussy, and I shall knock your brains out, if you have any. Peach. Keep out of the way, Polly, for fear of mischief, and consider of what is proposed to you. Mrs. Peach. Away, hussy! Hang your husband, and be dutiful. [POLLY listening.] The thing, husband, must and shall be done. If she will not know her duty, we know ours. Peach. But really, my dear, it grieves one's heart to take off a great man. When I consider his personal bravery, his fine stratagems, how much we have already got by him, and how much more we may get, methinks I cannot find in my heart to have a hand in his death: I wish you could have made Polly undertake it. Mrs. Peach. But in a case of necessityour own lives are in danger. Peach. Then, indeed, we must comply with the customs of the world, and make gratitude give way to interest. He shall be taken off. Mrs. Peach. I'll undertake to manage Polly. Peach. And I'll prepare matters for the Old Bailey. [Exeunt PEACHUM and MRS. PEACHUM. Polly. Now, I am a wretch, indeed! Methinks I see him already in the cart, sweeter and more lovely than the nosegay in his hand! I hear the crowd extolling his resolution and intrepidity! I see him at the tree! the whole circle are in tears! even butchers weep! Jack [Exit, and returns with MACHEATH. When I was away, Did your fancy never stray Polly. Without disguise, Doting eyes, My constant heart discover, Mac. O, pretty, pretty Poll! Polly. And are you as fond of me as ever, my dear? Mac. Suspect my honour, my courage; susMay my pistole pect any thing, but my love. miss fire, may my mare slip her shoulder while I am pursued, if I ever forsake thee? Polly. Nay, my dear! I have no reason to doubt you; for I find in the romance you lent me, none of the great herocs were ever false in love. AIR.-Pray, fair one, be kind. Till Polly my passion requited; I changed every hour, But here every flower is united. Polly. Were you sentenced to transportation, sure, my dear, you could not leave me behind you could you? Mac. Is there any power, any force, that could tear me from thee? You might sooner tear a pension out of the hands of a courtier, a fee from a lawyer, a pretty woman from a looking-glass, or any woman from quadrille—But to tear me from thee, is impossible! AIR.-Over the hills and far away. Soon as the burning day was closed, Mac. And I would love you all the day, Polly. Yes, I would go with thee, But oh! how shall I speak it? I must be torn from thee! We must part! Mac. How! part! Polly. We must, we must. My papa and mamma are set against thy life: they now, even now, are in search after thee: they are preparing evidence against thee: thy life depends upon a moment, AIR-Gin thou wert my ain thing. Can I leave thee, can I leave thee? Thus I tear thee from my bleeding heart; One kiss and then-one kiss- -Begone- ACT II. SCENE I. A Tavern neur Newgate. JEMMY TWITCHER, Crook-fingerED JACK, WAT DREARY, ROBIN OF BAGSHOT, NIMMING NED, HARRY PADDINGTON, MAT OF THE MINT, BEN BUDGE, and the rest of the gang, at the table, with wine, brandy and tobacco. Ben. But, prithee Mat, what is become of thy brother Tom? I have not seen him since my return from transportation. Mat. Poor brother Tom had an accident this time twelvemonth, and so clever made a fellow he was, that I could not save him from those flaying rascals the surgeons, and now poor man be is among the otamies at Surgeons'-hall Ben. So it seems his time was come. Jem. But the present time is ours, and nobody alive hath more. Why are the laws levelled at us? Are we more dishonest than the rest of mankind? What we win, gentlemen, is our own by the law of arms, and the right of conquest. Crook. Where shall we find such another set of practical philosophers, who, to a man, are above the fear of death? Wat. Sound men and true! Rob. Of tried courage, and indefatigable industry. Ned. Who is there, here, that would not die for his friend. Har. Who is there, here, that would betray him for his interest? Mat. Show me a gang of courtiers that can say as much. Ben. We are for a just partition of the world; for every man hath a right to enjoy life. Mat. We retrench the superfluities of mankind. The world is avaricious, and I hate avarice. A covetous fellow, like a jackdaw, steals what he was never made to enjoy, for the sake of hiding it. These are the robbers of mankind: for money was made for the free-hearted and generous: and where is the injury of taking from another what he hath not the heart to make use of? Jem. Our several stations for the day are fixed. Good luck attend us all! fill the glasses. AIR.-Fill every gluss, &c. Mat. Fill every glass for wine inspires us, With courage, love, and joy. Enter MACHEATH. Mac. Gentlemen, well met: my heart hath been with you this hour, but an unexpected affair hath detained me. No ceremony, I beg you. Mat. We were just breaking up to go upon duty. Am I to have the honour of taking the |