"THE BEGGAR'S OPERA"
INTRODUCTION
BEGGAR, PLAYER.
BEGGAR. If
Poverty be a Title to Poetry, I am sure no-body can dispute mine. I
own myself of the Company of Beggars; and I make one at their Weekly
Festivals at St. Giles's. I have a small Yearly Salary for my
Catches, and am welcome to a Dinner there whenever I please, which
is more than most Poets can say.
PLAYER. As we
live by the Muses, it is but Gratitude in us to encourage Poetical
Merit wherever we find it. The Muses, contrary to all other Ladies,
pay no Distinction to Dress, and never partially mistake the
Pertness of Embroidery for Wit, nor the Modesty of Want for Dulness.
Be the Author who he will, we push his Play as far as it will go. So
(though you are in Want) I wish you success heartily.
BEGGAR. This
piece I own was originally writ for the celebrating the Marriage of
James Chaunter and Moll Lay, two most excellent Ballad- Singers. I
have introduced the Similes that are in all your celebrated Operas:
The Swallow, the Moth, the Bee, the Ship, the Flower, &c. Besides, I
have a Prison-Scene, which the Ladies always reckon charmingly
pathetic. As to the Parts, I have observed such a nice Impartiality
to our two Ladies, that it is impossible for either of them to take
Offence. I hope I may be forgiven, that I have not made my Opera
throughout unnatural, like those in vogue; for I have no Recitative;
excepting this, as I have consented to have neither Prologue nor
Epilogue, it must be allowed an Opera in all its Forms. The Piece
indeed hath been heretofore frequently represented by ourselves in
our Great Room at St. Giles's, so that I cannot too often
acknowledge your Charity in bringing it now on the Stage.
PLAYER. But I
see it is time for us to withdraw; the Actors are preparing to
begin. Play away the Overture.
[Exeunt.]
OVERTURE
ACT I. SCENE I.
SCENE, Peachum's House.
Peachum sitting
at a Table with a large Book of Accounts before him.
AIR I. An old
Woman clothed in Gray, &c.
Through all the
Employments of Life
Each Neighbour abuses his Brother;
Whore and Rogue they call Husband and Wife:
All Professions be-rogue one another:
The Priest calls the Lawyer a Cheat,
The Lawyer be-knaves the Divine:
And the Statesman, because he's so great,
Thinks his Trade as honest as mine.
A Lawyer is an
honest Employment, so is mine. Like me too he acts in a double
Capacity, both against Rogues and for 'em; for 'tis but fitting that
we should protect and encourage Cheats, since we live by them.
[Enter Filch.]
FILCH. Sir,
Black Moll hath sent word her Trial comes on in the Afternoon, and
she hopes you will order Matters so as to bring her off.
PEACHUM. As the
Wench is very active and industrious, you may satisfy her that I'll
soften the Evidence.
FILCH. Tom Gagg,
Sir, is found guilty.
PEACHUM. A lazy
Dog! When I took him the time before, I told him what he would come
to if he did not mend his Hand. This is Death without Reprieve. I
may venture to Book him [writes.] For Tom Gagg, forty Pounds. Let
Betty Sly know that I'll save her from Transportation, for I can get
more by her staying in England.
FILCH. Betty
hath brought more Goods into our Lock to-year than any five of the
Gang; and in truth, 'tis a pity to lose so good a Customer.
PEACHUM. If
none of the Gang take her off, she may, in the common course of
Business, live a Twelve-month longer. I love to let Women scape. A
good Sportsman always lets the Hen Partridges fly, because the Breed
of the Game depends upon them. Besides, here the Law allows us no
Reward; there is nothing to be got by the Death of Women—except our
Wives.
FILCH. Without
dispute, she is a fine Woman! 'Twas to her I was obliged for my
Education, and (to say a bold Word) she hath trained up more young
Fellows to the Business than the Gaming table.
PEACHUM. Truly,
Filch, thy Observation is right. We and the
Surgeons are more beholden to Women than all the Professions
besides.
AIR II. The
bonny gray-ey'd Morn, &c.
FILCH. 'Tis
Woman that seduces all Mankind,
By her we first were taught the wheedling Arts:
Her very Eyes can cheat; when most she's kind,
She tricks us of our Money with our Hearts.
For her, like Wolves by Night we roam for Prey,
And practise ev'ry Fraud to bribe her Charms;
For Suits of Love, like Law, are won by Pay,
And Beauty must be fee'd into our Arms.
PEACHUM. But
make haste to Newgate, Boy, and let my Friends know what I intend;
for I love to make them easy one way or other.
FILCH. When a
Gentleman is long kept in suspence, Penitence may
break his Spirit ever after. Besides, Certainty gives a Man a good
Air upon his Trial, and makes him risk another without Fear or
Scruple. But I'll away, for 'tis a Pleasure to be the Messenger of
Comfort to Friends in Affliction.
[Exit Filch.]
PEACHUM. But
'tis now high time to look about me for a decent Execution against
next Sessions. I hate a lazy Rogue, by whom one can get nothing
'till he is hang'd. A Register of the Gang, [Reading.] Crook-finger'd
Jack. A Year and a half in the Service; Let me see how much the
Stock owes to his industry; one, two, three, four, five Gold
Watches, and seven Silver ones. A mighty clean- handed Fellow!
Sixteen Snuff-boxes, five of them of true Gold. Six Dozen of
Handkerchiefs, four silver-hilted Swords, half a Dozen of Shirts,
three Tye-Periwigs, and a Piece of Broad-Cloth. Considering these
are only the Fruits of his leisure Hours, I don't know a prettier
Fellow, for no Man alive hath a more engaging Presence of Mind upon
the Road. Wat Dreary, alias Brown Will, an irregular Dog, who hath
an underhand way of disposing of his Goods. I'll try him only for a
Sessions or two longer upon his Good-behaviour. Harry Paddington, a
poor petty-larceny Rascal, without the least Genius; that Fellow,
though he were to live these six Months, will never come to the
Gallows with any Credit. Slippery Sam; he goes off the next
Sessions, for the Villain hath the Impudence to have Views of
following his Trade as a Tailor, which he calls an honest
Employment. Mat of the Mint; listed not above a Month ago, a
promising sturdy Fellow, and diligent in his way; somewhat too bold
and hasty, and may raise good Contributions on the Public, if he
does not cut himself short by Murder. Tom Tipple, a guzzling soaking
Sot, who is always too drunk to stand himself, or to make others
stand. A Cart is absolutely necessary for him. Robin of Bagshot,
alias Gorgon, alias Bluff Bob, alias Carbuncle, alias Bob Booty.
[Enter Mrs.
Peachum.]
MRS. PEACHUM.
What of Bob Booty, Husband? I hope nothing bad hath betided him. You
know, my Dear, he's a favourite Customer of mine. 'Twas he made me a
present of this Ring.
PEACHUM. I have
set his Name down in the Black List, that's all, my Dear; he spends
his Life among Women, and as soon as his Money is gone, one or other
of the Ladies will hang him for the Reward, and there's forty Pound
lost to us for-ever.
MRS. PEACHUM.
You know, my Dear, I never meddle in matters of Death;
I always leave those Affairs to you. Women indeed are bitter bad
Judges in these cases, for they are so partial to the Brave that
they
think every Man handsome who is going to the Camp or the Gallows.
AIR III. Cold
and raw, &c.
If any Wench
Venus's Girdle wear,
Though she be never so ugly;
Lilies and Roses will quickly appear,
And her Face look wond'rous smugly.
Beneath the left Ear so fit but a Cord,
(A Rope so charming a Zone is!)
The Youth in his Cart hath the Air of a Lord,
And we cry, There dies an Adonis!
But really,
Husband, you should not be too hard-hearted, for you never had a
finer, braver set of Men than at present. We have not had a Murder
among them all, these seven Months. And truly, my Dear, that is a
great Blessing.
PEACHUM. What a
dickens is the Woman always a whimpring about Murder for? No
Gentleman is ever look'd upon the worse for killing a Man in his own
Defence; and if Business cannot be carried on without it, what would
you have a Gentleman do?
MRS. PEACHUM.
If I am in the wrong, my Dear, you must excuse me, for no body can
help the Frailty of an over-scrupulous Conscience.
PEACHUM. Murder
is as fashionable a Crime as a Man can be guilty of. How many fine
Gentlemen have we in Newgate every Year, purely upon that Article!
If they have wherewithal to persuade the Jury to bring it in
Manslaughter, what are they the worse for it? So, my Dear, have done
upon this Subject. Was Captain Macheath here this Morning, for the
Bank-Notes he left with you last Week?
MRS. PEACHUM.
Yes, my Dear; and though the Bank hath stopt Payment, he was so
chearful and so agreeable! Sure there is not a finer Gentleman upon
the Road than the Captain! if he comes from Bagshot at any
reasonable Hour, he hath promis'd to make one this Evening with
Polly and me, and Bob Booty at a Party of Quadrille. Pray, my Dear,
is the Captain rich?
PEACHUM. The
Captain keeps too good Company 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 train'd up to it from his Youth.
MRS. PEACHUM.
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.
PEACHUM. Upon
Polly's Account! What, a Plague, does the Woman mean?—Upon Polly's
Account!
MRS. PEACHUM.
Captain Macheath is very fond of the Girl.
PEACHUM. And
what then?
MRS. PEACHUM.
If I have any Skill in the Ways of Women, I am sure
Polly thinks him a very pretty Man.
PEACHUM. And
what then? You would not be so mad to have the Wench marry him!
Gamesters and Highwaymen are generally very good to their Whores,
but they are very Devils to their Wives.
MRS. PEACHUM.
But if Polly should be in Love, how should we help her, or how can
she help herself? Poor Girl, I am in the utmost Concern about her.
AIR IV. Why is
your faithful Slave disdain'd? &c.
If Love the
Virgin's Heart invade,
How, like a Moth, the simple Maid
Still plays about the Flame!
If soon she be not made a Wife,
Her Honour's sing'd, and then for Life,
She's—what I dare not name.
PEACHUM. 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. You see I would indulge
the Girl as far as prudently we can. In any thing, but Marriage!
After that, my Dear, how shall we be safe? Are we not then in her
Husband's Power? For a Husband hath the absolute Power over all a
Wife's Secrets but her own. If the Girl had the Discretion of a
Court-Lady, who can have a Dozen young Fellows at her Ear without
complying with one, I should not matter it; but Polly is Tinder, and
a Spark will at once set her on a Flame. Married! If the Wench does
not know her own Profit, sure she knows her own Pleasure better than
to make herself a Property! 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. PEACHUM.
May-hap, 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.
PEACHUM. 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 meantime, 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 the City. [Exit Peachum.]
MRS. PEACHUM.
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
Observations, 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.
AIR V. Of all
the simple Things we do, &c.
A Maid is like
the Golden Ore,
Which hath Guineas intrinsical in't,
Whose Worth is never known before
It is try'd and imprest in the Mint.
A Wife's like a Guinea in Gold,
Stampt with the Name of her Spouse;
Now here, now there; is bought, or is sold;
And is current in every House.
[Enter Filch.]
MRS. PEACHUM.
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-finger'd 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. PEACHUM.
Colour'd ones, I see. They are of sure Sale from our
Warehouse at Redriff among the Seamen.
FILCH. And this
Snuff-box.
MRS. PEACHUM.
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 forc'd
to make my Escape under a Coach. Really, Madam, I fear I shall be
cut off in the Flower of my Youth, so that every now and then (since
I was pumpt) I have Thoughts of taking up and going to Sea.
MRS. PEACHUM.
You should go to Hockley in the 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 Baily!
For the first Fact I'll insure thee from being hang'd; and going to
Sea, Filch, will come time enough upon a Sentence of Transportation.
But now, since you have nothing better to do, ev'n 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 Lye; for you
know I hate a Liar. Do you know of anything that hath pass'd between
Captain Macheath and our Polly?
FILCH. I beg
you, Madam, don't ask me; for I must either tell a Lye to you or to
Miss Polly; for I promis'd her I would not tell.
MRS. PEACHUM.
But when the Honour of our Family is concern'd -
FILCH. I shall
lead a sad Life with Miss Polly, if ever she comes to know that I
told you. Besides, I would not willingly forfeit my own Honour by
betraying any body.
MRS. PEACHUM.
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,
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 in a 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
Common.
AIR VI. What
shall I do to shew how much I love her, &c.
Virgins are
like the fair Flower in its Lustre,
Which in the Garden enamels the Ground;
Near it the Bees in play flutter and cluster,
And gaudy Butterflies frolick around.
But, when once pluck'd, 'tis no longer alluring,
To Covent-Garden 'tis sent (as yet sweet),
There fades, and shrinks, and grows past all enduring,
Rots, stinks, and dies, and is trod under feet.
PEACHUM. 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 play'd the Fool and are married, you
Jade you, I'll cut your Throat, Hussy. Now you know my Mind.
[Enter Mrs.
Peachum, in a very great Passion.]
AIR VII. Oh
London is a fine Town.
Our Polly is a
sad Slut! nor heeds what we have taught her.
I wonder any Man alive will ever rear a Daughter!
For she must have both Hoods and Gowns, and Hoops to swell her
Pride,
With Scarfs and Stays, and Gloves and Lace; and she will have Men
beside;
And when she's drest with Care and Cost, all tempting, fine and gay,
As Men should serve a Cucumber, she flings herself away.
Our Polly is a sad Slut! &c.
You Baggage!
you Hussy! you inconsiderate Jade! had you been hang'd, it would not
have vex'd me, for that might have been your Misfortune; but to do
such a mad thing by Choice; The Wench is married, Husband.
PEACHUM.
Married! the Captain is a bold Man, and will risk any thing for
Money; to be sure he believes her a Fortune. Do you think your
Mother and I should have liv'd comfortably so long together, if ever
we had been married? Baggage!
MRS. PEACHUM. I
knew she was always a proud Slut; and now the Wench hath play'd the
Fool and Married, because forsooth she would do like the Gentry. Can
you support the Expence of a Husband, Hussy, in Gaming, Drinking and
Whoring? Have you Money enough to carry on the daily Quarrels of Man
and Wife about who shall squander most? There are not many Husbands
and Wives, who can bear the Charges of plaguing one another in a
handsom way. If you must be married, could you introduce no body
into our Family but a Highwayman? Why, thou foolish Jade, thou wilt
be as ill-us'd, and as much neglected, as if thou hadst married a
Lord!
PEACHUM. 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 he hath already, I know he is in a
fair way of getting, or of dying; and both these ways, let me tell
you, are most excellent Chances for a Wife. Tell me, Hussy, are you
ruin'd or no?
MRS. PEACHUM.
With Polly's Fortune, she might very well have gone off to a Person
of Distinction. Yes, that you might, you pouting Slut!
PEACHUM. 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. PEACHUM.
How the Mother is to be pitied who hath handsom 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.
PEACHUM. Why,
Polly, I shall soon know if you are married, by
Macheath's keeping from our House.
AIR VIII. Grim
King of the Ghosts, &c.
POLLY. Can Love
be control'd by Advice?
Will Cupid our Mothers obey?
Though my Heart were as frozen as Ice,
At his Flame 'twould have melted away.
When he kist me so closely he prest,
'Twas so sweet that I must have comply'd:
So I thought it both safest and best
To marry, for fear you should chide.
MRS. PEACHUM.
Then all the Hopes of our Family are gone for ever and ever!
PEACHUM. And
Macheath may hang his Father and Mother-in-law, in hope 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. PEACHUM.
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 myself—Oh! [Faints.]
PEACHUM. See,
Wench, to what a Condition you have reduc'd 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 Mama drinks double the
Quantity whenever she is out of Order. This, you see, fetches her.
MRS. PEACHUM.
The Girl shews such a Readiness, and so much Concern, that I could
almost find in my Heart to forgive her.
AIR IX. O
Jenny, O Jenny, where hast thou been.
POLLY. O Polly,
you might have toy'd and kist.
By keeping Men off, you keep them on.
But he so teaz'd me,
And he so pleas'd me,
What I did, you must have done.
MRS. PEACHUM.
Not with a Highwayman.—You sorry Slut!
PEACHUM. A Word
with you, Wife. 'Tis no new thing for a Wench to take Man without
Consent of Parents. You know 'tis the Frailty of Women, my Dear.
MRS. PEACHUM.
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.
PEACHUM. 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. PEACHUM.
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. PEACHUM. A
mighty likely Speech in troth, for a Wench who is just married!
AIR X. Thomas,
I cannot, &c.
POLLY. I, like
a Ship in Storms, was tost;
Yet afraid to put in to Land:
For seiz'd in the Port the Vessel's lost,
Whose Treasure is contreband.
The Waves are laid,
My Duty's paid.
O Joy beyond Expression!
Thus, safe a-shore,
I ask no more,
My All is in my Possession.
PEACHUM. I hear
Customers in t'other Room: Go, talk with 'em, Polly; but come to us
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 Suky 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-brow'd Jemmy hath it on, and he doth not come
from Tunbridge 'till Tuesday Night; so that it cannot be had 'till
then.
[Exit Polly.]
PEACHUM. 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.
MRS. PEACHUM.
If she had only an Intrigue with the Fellow, why the very best
Families have excus'd and huddled up a Frailty of that sort. 'Tis
Marriage, Husband, that makes it a Blemish.
PEACHUM. But
Money, Wife, is the true Fuller's Earth for
Reputations, there is not a Spot or a Stain but what it can take
out.
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. PEACHUM. 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.
PEACHUM. That,
indeed, is a Point which ought to be consider'd.
AIR XI. A
Soldier and a Sailor.
A Fox may steal
your Hens, Sir,
A Whore your Health and Pence, Sir,
Your Daughter rob your Chest, Sir,
Your Wife may steal your Rest, Sir.
A Thief your Goods and Plate.
But this is all but picking,
With Rest, Pence, Chest and Chicken;
It ever was decreed, Sir,
If Lawyer's Hand is fee'd, Sir,
He steals your whole Estate.
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 happen'd last Night.
PEACHUM. 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 left as they are. You are married then, it
seems?
POLLY. Yes,
Sir.
PEACHUM. And
how do you propose to live, Child?
POLLY. Like
other Women, Sir, upon the Industry of my Husband.
MRS. PEACHUM.
What, is the Wench turn'd Fool? A Highwayman's Wife, like a
Soldier's, hath as little of his Pay, as of his Company.
PEACHUM. And
had not you the common Views of a Gentlewoman in your
Marriage, Polly?
POLLY. I don't
know what you mean, Sir.
PEACHUM. Of a
Jointure, and of being a Widow.
POLLY. But I
love him, Sir; how then could I have Thoughts of parting with him?
PEACHUM.
Parting with him! Why, this is the whole Scheme and Intention of all
Marriage-Articles. The comfortable Estate of Widow- hood, 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 pleas'd? 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.
PEACHUM. Secure
what he hath got, have him peach'd 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.
PEACHUM. 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 rob,
so 'tis ours to take Robbers; every Man in his Business. So that
there is no Malice in the Case.
MRS. PEACHUM.
Ay, Husband, now you have nick'd the Matter. To have him peach'd is
the only thing could ever make me forgive her.
AIR XII. Now
ponder well, ye Parents dear.
POLLY. O ponder
well! be not severe;
So save a wretched Wife!
For on the Rope that hangs my Dear
Depends poor Polly's Life.
MRS. PEACHUM.
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 Widow-hood to me? I know my
Heart. I cannot survive him.
AIR XIII. Le
printems rapelle aux armes.
The Turtle thus
with plaintive Crying,
Her Lover dying,
The Turtle thus with plaintive Crying,
Laments her Dove.
Down she drops quite spent with Sighing.
Pair'd in Death, as pair'd in Love.
Thus, Sir, it
will happen to your poor Polly.
MRS. PEACHUM.
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 ever lov'd -
MRS. PEACHUM.
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.
PEACHUM. Keep
out of the way, Polly, for fear of Mischief, and consider of what is
proposed to you.
MRS. PEACHUM.
Away, Hussy. Hang your Husband, and be dutiful.
[Exit Polly.]
[Re-enter
Polly, and listens behind column.]
MRS. PEACHUM.
The Thing, Husband, must and shall be done. For the sake of
Intelligence we must take other measures, and have him peached the
next Session without her Consent. If she will not know her Duty, we
know ours.
PEACHUM. But
really, my Dear, it grieves one's Heart to take off a great Man.
When I consider his Personal Bravery, his fine Stratagem, how much
we have already got by him, and how much more we may get, methinks I
can't find in my Heart to have a hand in his Death. I wish you could
have made Polly undertake it.
MRS. PEACHUM.
But in a Case of Necessity—our own Lives are in danger.
PEACHUM. Then,
indeed, we must comply with the Customs of the World, and make
Gratitude give way to Interest.—He shall be taken off.
MRS. PEACHUM.
I'll undertake to manage Polly.
PEACHUM. And
I'll prepare Matters for the Old-Baily.
[Exeunt
severally.]
POLLY. Now I'm
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!—What Vollies of Sighs are
sent from the Windows of Holborn, that so comely a Youth should be
brought to Disgrace!—I see him at the Tree! The whole Circle are in
Tears!—even Butchers weep!—Jack Ketch himself hesitates to perform
his Duty, and would be glad to lose his Fee, by a Reprieve. What
then will become of Polly!—As yet I may inform him of their Design,
and aid him in his Escape.—It shall be so—But then he flies, absents
himself, and I bar myself from his dear dear Conversation! That too
will distract me.—If he keep out of the way, my Papa and Mama may in
time relent, and we may be happy.—If he stays, he is hang'd, and
then he is lost for ever!—He intended to lie conceal'd in my Room,
'till the Dusk of the Evening: If they are abroad I'll this Instant
let him out, lest some Accident should prevent him.
[Exit, and
returns with Macheath.]
Macheath.
AIR XIV. Pretty
Parrot, say -
MACHEATH.
Pretty Polly, say,
When I was away,
Did your fancy never stray
To some newer Lover?
POLLY. Without Disguise,
Heaving Sighs,
Doting Eyes,
My constant Heart discover.
Fondly let me loll!
MACHEATH. O pretty, pretty Poll.
POLLY. And are
YOU as fond as ever, my Dear?
MACHEATH.
Suspect my Honour, my Courage, suspect any thing but my
Love.—May my Pistols miss Fire, and my Mare slip her Shoulder while
I am pursu'd, 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 Heroes were ever false in Love.
AIR XV. Pray,
Fair one, be kind -
MACHEATH. My
Heart was so free,
It rov'd like the Bee,
'Till Polly my Passion requited;
I sipt each Flower,
I chang'd every Hour,
But here every Flower is united.
POLLY. Were you
sentenc'd to Transportation, sure, my Dear, you could not leave me
behind you—could you?
MACHEATH. 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 XVI. Over
the Hills and far away.
Were I laid on
Greenland's Coast,
And in my Arms embrac'd my Lass;
Warm amidst eternal Frost,
Too soon the Half Year's Night would pass.
POLLY. Were I sold on Indian Soil,
Soon as the burning Day was clos'd,
I could mock the sultry Toil
When on my Charmer's Breast repos'd.
MACHEATH. And I would love you all the Day,
POLLY. Every Night would kiss and play,
MACHEATH. If with me you'd fondly stray
POLLY. Over the Hills and far away.
POLLY. Yes, I
would go with thee. But oh!—how shall I speak it? I must be torn
from thee. We must part.
MACHEATH. How!
Part!
POLLY. We must,
we must.—My Papa and Mama 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 XVII. Gin
thou wert mine awn thing -
Oh what Pain it
is to part!
Can I leave thee, can I leave thee?
O what pain it is to part!
Can thy Polly ever leave thee?
But lest Death my Love should thwart,
And bring thee to the fatal Cart,
Thus I tear thee from my bleeding Heart!
Fly hence, and let me leave thee.
One Kiss and
then—one Kiss—be gone—farewel.
MACHEATH. My
Hand, my Heart, my Dear, is so riveted to thine, that I cannot
unloose my Hold.
POLLY. But my
Papa may intercept thee, and then I should lose the very glimmering
of Hope. A few Weeks, perhaps, may reconcile us all. Shall thy Polly
hear from thee?
MACHEATH. Must
I then go?
POLLY. And will
not Absence change your Love?
MACHEATH. If
you doubt it, let me stay—and be hang'd.
POLLY. O how I
fear! how I tremble!—Go—but when Safety will give you leave, you
will be sure to see me again; for 'till then Polly is wretched.
AIR XVIII. O
the Broom, &c.
MACHEATH. The
Miser thus a Shilling sees,
Which he's oblig'd to pay,
With sighs resigns it by degrees,
And fears 'tis gone for ay.
[Parting, and
looking back at each other with fondness; he at one
Door, she at the other.]
POLLY. The Boy,
thus, when his Sparrow's flown,
The Bird in Silence eyes;
But soon as out of Sight 'tis gone,
Whines, whimpers, sobs and cries.
ACT II. SCENE I.
A tavern near Newgate.
Jemmy Twitcher,
Crook-finger'd Jack, Wat Dreary, Robin of Bagshot, Nimming Ned,
Henry Paddington, Matt of the Mint, Ben Budge, and the rest of the
Gang, at the Table, with Wine, Brandy and Tobacco.
BEN. But
pr'ythee, Matt, what is become of thy Brother Tom? I have not seen
him since my Return from Transportation.
MATT. Poor
Brother Tom had an Accident this time Twelve-month, and so clever a
made fellow he was, that I could not save him from those fleaing
Rascals the Surgeons; and now, poor Man, he is among the Otamys at
Surgeons Hall.
BEN. So it
seems, his Time was come.
JEMMY. But the
present Time is ours, and no body alive hath more. Why are the Laws
levell'd 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!
ROBIN. Of try'd
Courage, and indefatigable Industry!
NED. Who is
there here that would not die for his Friend?
HARRY. Who is
there here that would betray him for his Interest?
MATT. Shew 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.
MATT. We
retrench the Superfluities of Mankind. The World is avaritious, 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?
JEMMY. Our
several Stations for the Day are fixt. Good luck attend us all. Fill
the Glasses.
AIR XIX. Fill
every Glass, &c.
MATT. Fill
every Glass, for Wine inspires us,
And fires us
With Courage, Love and Joy.
Women and Wine should life employ.
Is there ought else on Earth desirous?
CHORUS. Fill every Glass, &c.
[To them enter
Macheath.]
MACHEATH.
Gentlemen, well met. My Heart hath been with you this Hour; but an
unexpected Affair hath detain'd me. No Ceremony, I beg you.
MATT. We were
just breaking up to go upon Duty. Am I to have the Honour of taking
the Air with you, Sir, this Evening upon the Heath? I drink a Dram
now and then with the Stagecoachmen in the way of Friendship and
Intelligence; and I know that about this Time there will be
Passengers upon the Western Road, who are worth speaking with.
MACHEATH. I was
to have been of that Party—but -
MATT. But what,
Sir?
MACHEATH. Is
there any Man who suspects my Courage?
MATT. We have
all been Witnesses of it.
MACHEATH. My
Honour and Truth to the Gang?
MATT. I'll be
answerable for it.
MACHEATH. In
the Division of our Booty, have I ever shewn the least
Marks of Avarice or Injustice?
MATT. By these
Questions something seems to have ruffled you. Are any of us
suspected?
MACHEATH. I
have a fixed Confidence, Gentlemen, in you all, as Men of Honour,
and as such I value and respect you. Peachum is a Man that is useful
to us.
MATT. Is he
about to play us any foul Play? I'll shoot him through the Head.
MACHEATH. I beg
you, Gentlemen, act with Conduct and Discretion. A
Pistol is your last Resort.
MATT. He knows
nothing of this Meeting.
MACHEATH.
Business cannot go on without him. He is a Man who knows the World,
and is a necessary Agent to us. We have had a slight Difference, and
'till it is accommodated I shall be oblig'd to keep out of his way.
Any private Dispute of mine shall be of no ill consequence to my
Friends. You must continue to act under his Direction, for the
moment we break loose from him, our Gang is ruin'd.
MATT. As a Bawd
to a Whore, I grant you, he is to us of great
Convenience.
MACHEATH. Make
him believe I have quitted the Gang, which I can never do but with
Life. At our private Quarters I will continue to meet you. A Week or
so will probably reconcile us.
MATT. Your
Instructions shall be observ'd. 'Tis now high time for us to repair
to our several Duties; so 'till the Evening at our Quarters in
Moor-Fields we bid you farewel.
MACHEATH. I
shall wish myself with you. Success attend you.
[Sits down
melancholy at the Table.]
AIR XX. March
in Rinaldo, with Drums and Trumpets.
MATT. Let us
take the Road.
Hark! I hear the Sound of Coaches!
The Hour of Attack approaches,
To your Arms, brave Boys, and load.
See the Ball I hold!
Let the Chymists toil like Asses,
Our Fire their Fire surpasses,
And turns all our Lead to Gold.
[The Gang,
rang'd in the Front of the Stage, load their Pistols, and stick them
under their Girdles; then go off singing the first Part in Chorus.]
MACHEATH. What
a Fool is a fond Wench! Polly is most confoundedly bit.—I love the
Sex. And a Man who loves Money, might as well be contented with one
Guinea, as I with one Woman. The Town perhaps have been as much
obliged to me, for recruiting it with free-hearted Ladies, as to any
Recruiting Officer in the Army. If it were not for us, and the other
Gentlemen of the Sword, Drury-Lane would be uninhabited.
AIR XXI. Would
you have a young Virgin, &c.
If the Heart of
a Man is deprest with Cares,
The Mist is dispell'd when a Woman appears;
Like the Notes of a Fiddle, she sweetly, sweetly
Raises the Spirits, and charms our Ears,
Roses and Lilies her Cheeks disclose,
But her ripe Lips are more sweet than those.
Press her,
Caress her,
With Blisses,
Her Kisses
Dissolve us in Pleasure, and soft Repose.
I must have
Women. There is nothing unbends the Mind like them.
Money is not so strong a Cordial for the Time. Drawer—[Enter
Drawer.] Is the Porter gone for all the Ladies according to my
Directions?
DRAWER. I
expect him back every Minute. But you know, Sir, you sent him as far
as Hockley in the Hole for three of the Ladies, for one in
Vinegar-Yard, and for the rest of them somewhere about Lewkner's-
Lane. Sure some of them are below, for I hear the Bar-Bell. As they
come I will shew them up. Coming, Coming.
[Enter Mrs.
Coaxer, Dolly Trull, Mrs. Vixen, Betty Doxy, Jenny Diver,
Mrs. Slammekin, Suky Tawdry, and Molly Brazen.]
MACHEATH. Dear
Mrs. Coaxer, you are welcome. You look charmingly to-day. I hope you
don't want the Repairs of Quality, and lay on Paint.—Dolly Trull!
kiss me, you Slut; are you as amorous as ever, Hussy? You are always
so taken up with stealing Hearts, that you don't allow yourself Time
to steal any thing else.—Ah Dolly, thou wilt ever be a Coquette!
Mrs. Vixen, I'm yours, I always lov'd a Woman of Wit and Spirit;
they make charming Mistresses, but plaguy Wives—Betty Doxy! Come
hither, Hussy. Do you drink as hard as ever? You had better stick to
good wholesom Beer; for in troth, Betty, Strong-Waters will in time
ruin your Constitution. You should leave those to your
Betters.—What! and my pretty Jenny Diver too! As prim and demure as
ever! There is not any Prude, though ever so high bred, hath a more
sanctify'd Look, with a more mischievous Heart. Ah! thou art a dear
artful Hypocrite.—Mrs. Slammekin! as careless and genteel as ever!
all you fine Ladies, who know your own Beauty, affect an
Undress.—But see, here's Suky Tawdry come to contradict what I was
saying. Every thing she gets one way she lays out upon her Back.
Why, Suky, you must keep at least a Dozen Tallymen. Molly Brazen!
[She kisses him.] That's well done. I love a free-hearted Wench.
Thou hast a most agreeable Assurance, Girl, and art as willing as a
Turtle.—But hark! I hear Music. The Harper is at the Door. If Music
be the Food of Love, play on. Ere you seat yourselves, Ladies, what
think you of a Dance? Come in. [Enter Harper.] Play the French Tune,
that Mrs. Slammekin was so fond of.
[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.
BRAZEN. Oh dear
Madam!—But sure nothing can come up to your handling of Laces! And
then you have such a sweet deluding Tongue! To cheat a Man is
nothing; but the Woman must have fine Parts indeed who cheats a
Woman.
MRS. VIXEN.
Lace, Madam, lies in a small Compass, and is of easy
Conveyance. But you are apt, Madam, to think too well of your
Friends.
MRS. COAXER. If
any woman hath more Art than another, to be sure, 'tis Jenny Diver.
Though her Fellow be never so agreeable, she can pick his Pocket as
coolly, as if money were her only Pleasure. Now that is a Command of
the Passions uncommon in a Woman!
JENNY. I never
go to the Tavern with a Man, but in the View of
Business. I have other Hours, and other sort of Men for my Pleasure.
But had I your Address, Madam
MACHEATH. Have
done with your Compliments, Ladies; and drink about:
You are not so fond of me, Jenny, as you use to be.
JENNY. 'Tis not
convenient, Sir, to shew my Fondness among so many Rivals. 'Tis your
own Choice, and not the Warmth of my Inclination that will determine
you.
AIR XXIII. All
in a misty Morning, &c.
Before the
Barn-Door crowing,
The Cock by Hens attended,
His Eyes around him throwing,
Stands for a while suspended.
Then One he singles from the Crew,
And cheers the happy Hen;
With how do you do, and how do you do,
And how do you do again.
MACHEATH. Ah
Jenny! thou art a dear Slut.
JENNY. A Man of
Courage should never put any thing to the Risk but his Life. These
are the Tools of a Man of Honour. Cards and Dice are only fit for
cowardly Cheats, who prey upon their Friends.
[She takes up
his Pistol. Tawdry takes up the other.]
TAWDRY. This,
Sir, is fitter for your Hand. Besides your Loss of
Money, 'tis a Loss to the Ladies. Gaming takes you off from Women.
How fond could I be of you! but before Company 'tis ill bred.
MACHEATH.
Wanton Hussies!
JENNY. I must
and will have a Kiss to give my Wine a Zest.
[They take him
about the Neck and make signs to Peachum and
Constables, who rush in upon him.]
PEACHUM. I
seize you, Sir, as my Prisoner.
MACHEATH. Was
this well done, Jenny?—Women are Decoy Ducks; who can trust them!
Beasts, Jades, Jilts, Harpies, Furies, Whores!
PEACHUM. Your
Case, Mr. Macheath, is not particular. The greatest Heroes have been
ruin'd by Women. But, to do them Justice, I must own they are a
pretty sort of Creatures, if we could trust them. You must now, Sir,
take your Leave of the Ladies, and if they have a mind to make you a
Visit, they will be sure to find you at home. This Gentleman,
Ladies, lodges in Newgate. Constables, wait upon the Captain to his
Lodgings.
AIR XXIV. When
first I laid Siege to my Chloris, &c.
MACHEATH. At
the Tree I shall suffer with Pleasure,
At the Tree I shall suffer with Pleasure,
Let me go where I will,
In all kinds of Ill,
I shall find no such Furies as these are.
PEACHUM.
Ladies, I'll take care the Reckoning shall be discharged.
[Exit Macheath,
guarded with Peachum and Constables.]
MRS. VIXEN.
Look ye, Mrs. Jenny, though Mr. Peachum may have made a private
Bargain with you and Suky Tawdry for betraying the Captain, as we
were all assisting, we ought all to share alike.
MRS. COAXER. I
think Mr. Peachum, after so long an Acquaintance, might have trusted
me as well as Jenny Diver.
MRS. SLAMMEKIN.
I am sure at least three Men of his hanging, and in a Year's time
too (if he did me Justice) should be set down to my Account.
TRULL. Mrs.
Slammekin, that is not fair. For you know one of them was taken in
Bed with me.
JENNY. As far
as a Bowl of Punch or a Treat, I believe Mrs. Suky will join with
me.—As for any thing else, Ladies, you cannot in Conscience expect
it.
MRS. SLAMMEKIN.
Dear Madam -
TRULL. I would
not for the World -
MRS. SLAMMEKIN.
'Tis impossible for me -
TRULL. As I
hope to be sav'd, Madam -
MRS. SLAMMEKIN.
Nay, then I must stay here all Night -
TRULL. Since
you command me.
[Exeunt with
great Ceremony.]
SCENE II. Newgate.
Lockit, Turnkeys, Macheath,
Constables.
LOCKIT. Noble
Captain, you are welcome. You have not been a Lodger of mine this
Year and half. You know the Custom, Sir. Garnish, Captain, Garnish.
Hand me down those Fetters there.
MACHEATH.
Those, Mr. Lockit, seem to be the heaviest of the whole
Set. With your Leave, I should like the further Pair better.
LOCKIT. Look
ye, Captain, we know what is fittest for our Prisoners. When a
Gentleman uses me with Civility, I always do the best I can to
please him.—Hand them down I say.—We have them of all Prices, from
one Guinea to ten, and 'tis fitting every Gentleman should please
himself.
MACHEATH. I
understand you, Sir. [Gives Money.] The Fees here are so many, and
so exorbitant, that few Fortunes can bear the Expence of getting off
handsomly, or of dying like a Gentleman.
LOCKIT. Those,
I see, will fit the Captain better—Take down the further Pair. Do
but examine them, Sir.—Never was better work. How genteely they are
made!—They will fit as easy as a Glove, and the nicest Man in
England might not be asham'd to wear them. [He puts on the Chains.]
If I had the best Gentleman in the Land in my Custody I could not
equip him more handsomly. And so, Sir—I now leave you to your
private Meditations.
[Exeunt leaving
Macheath solus.]
MACHEATH.
AIR XXV.
Courtiers, Courtiers, think it no Harm, &c.
Man may escape
from Rope and Gun;
Nay, some have out liv'd the Doctor's Pill;
Who takes a Woman must be undone,
That Basilisk is sure to kill.
The Fly that sips Treacle is lost in the Sweets,
So he that tastes Woman, Woman, Woman,
He that tastes Woman, ruin meets.
To what a woful
Plight have I brought myself! Here must I (all Day long, 'till I am
hang'd) be confin'd to hear the Reproaches of a Wench who lays her
Ruin at my Door—I am in the Custody of her Father, and to be sure,
if he knows of the matter, I shall have a fine time on't betwixt
this and my Execution.—But I promis'd the Wench Marriage—What
signifies a Promise to a Woman? Does not Man in Marriage itself
promise a hundred things that he never means to perform? Do all we
can, Women will believe us; for they look upon a Promise as an
Excuse for following their own Inclinations.—But here comes Lucy,
and I cannot get from her.—Wou'd I were deaf!
[Enter Lucy.]
LUCY. You base
Man you,—how can you look me in the Face after what hath passed
between us?—See here, perfidious Wretch, how I am forc'd to bear
about the Load of Infamy you have laid upon me—O Macheath! thou hast
robb'd me of my Quiet—to see thee tortur'd would give me Pleasure.
AIR XXVI. A
lovely Lass to a Friar came, &c.
Thus when a
good Housewife sees a Rat
In her Trap in the Morning taken,
With Pleasure her Heart goes pit-a-pat,
In Revenge for her Loss of Bacon.
Then she throws him
To the Dog or Cat,
To be worried, crush'd and shaken.
MACHEATH. Have
you no Bowels, no Tenderness, my dear Lucy, to see a
Husband in these Circumstances?
LUCY. A
Husband!
MACHEATH. In
ev'ry Respect but the Form, and that, my Dear, may be said over us
at any time.—Friends should not insist upon Ceremonies. From a Man
of Honour, his Word is as good as his Bond.
LUCY. 'Tis the
Pleasure of all you fine Men to insult the Women you have ruin'd.
AIR XXVII.
'Twas when the Sea was roaring, &c.
How cruel are
the Traitors,
Who lye and swear in jest,
To cheat unguarded Creatures
Of Virtue, Fame, and Rest!
Whoever steals a Shilling,
Through Shame the Guilt conceals:
In Love the perjur'd Villain
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.
MACHEATH. I am
ready, my dear Lucy, to give you Satisfaction—if you think there is
any in Marriage.—What can a Man of Honour say more?
LUCY. So then,
it seems, you are not married to Miss Polly.
MACHEATH. You
know, Lucy, the Girl is prodigiously conceited. No
Man can say a civil thing to her, but (like other fine Ladies) her
Vanity makes her think he's her own for ever and ever.
AIR XXVIII. The
Sun had loos'd his weary Teams, &c.
The first time
at the Looking-glass
The Mother sets her Daughter,
The Image strikes the smiling Lass
With Self-love ever after,
Each time she looks, she, fonder grown,
Thinks ev'ry Charm grows stronger.
But alas, vain Maid, all Eyes but your own
Can see you are not younger.
When Women
consider their own Beauties, they are all alike unreasonable in
their Demands; for they expect their Lovers should like them as long
as they like themselves.
LUCY. Yonder is
my Father—perhaps this way we may light upon the Ordinary, who shall
try if you will be as good as your Word.—For I long to be made an
honest Woman.
[Exeunt.]
[Enter Peachum
and Lockit with an Account-Book.]
LOCKIT. In this
last Affair, Brother Peachum, we are agreed. You have consented to
go halves in Macheath.
PEACHUM. We
shall never fall out about an Execution—But as to that
Article, pray how stands our last Year's Account?
LOCKIT. If you
will run your Eye over it, you'll find 'tis fair and clearly stated.
PEACHUM. This
long Arrear of the Government is very hard upon us! Can it be
expected that we would hang our Acquaintance for nothing, when our
Betters will hardly save theirs without being paid for it. Unless
the People in Employment pay better, I promise them for the future,
I shall let other Rogues live besides their own.
LOCKIT.
Perhaps, Brother, they are afraid these Matters may be carried too
far. We are treated too by them with Contempt, as if our Profession
were not reputable.
PEACHUM. In one
respect indeed our Employment may be reckon'd dishonest, because,
like Great Statesmen, we encourage those who betray their Friends.
LOCKIT. Such
Language, Brother, any where else, might turn to your
Prejudice. Learn to be more guarded, I beg you.
AIR XXIX. How
happy are we, &c.
When you
censure the Age,
Be cautious and sage,
Lest the Courtiers offended should be:
If you mention Vice or Bribe,
'Tis so pat to all the Tribe;
Each cries—That was levell'd at me.
PEACHUM. Here's
poor Ned Clincher's Name, I see. Sure, Brother Lockit, there was a
little unfair Proceeding in Ned's Case: for he told me in the
Condemn'd Hold, that for Value receiv'd, you had promis'd him a
Session or two longer without Molestation.
LOCKIT. Mr.
Peachum—this is the first time my Honour was ever call'd in
Question.
PEACHUM.
Business is at an end—if once we act dishonourably.
LOCKIT. Who
accuses me?
PEACHUM. You
are warm, Brother.
LOCKIT. He that
attacks my Honour, attacks my Livelihood.—And this
Usage—Sir—is not to be borne.
PEACHUM. Since
you provoke me to speak—I must tell you too, that Mrs. Coaxer
charges you with defrauding her of her Information-Money, for the
apprehending of curl-pated Hugh. Indeed, indeed, Brother, we must
punctually pay our Spies, or we shall have no Information.
LOCKIT. Is this
Language to me, Sirrah,—who have sav'd you from the
Gallows, Sirrah!
[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.]
LOCKIT. Whence
come you, Hussy?
LUCY. My Tears
might answer that Question.
LOCKIT. You
have then been whimpering and fondling, like a Spaniel, over the
Fellow that hath abus'd you.
LUCY. One can't
help Love; one can't cure it. 'Tis not in my Power to obey you, and
hate him.
LOCKIT. Learn
to bear your Husband's Death like a reasonable Woman.
'Tis not the fashion, now-a-days, so much as to affect Sorrow upon
these Occasions. No Woman would ever marry, if she had not the
Chance of Mortality for a Release. Act like a Woman of Spirit,
Hussy, and thank your Father for what he is doing.
AIR XXX. Of a
noble Race was Shenkin.
LUCY. Is then
his Fate decreed, Sir?
Such a Man can I think of quitting?
When first we met, so moves me yet,
O see how my Heart is splitting!
LOCKIT. Look
ye, Lucy—There is no saving him.—So, I think, you must ev'n do like
other Widows—buy yourself Weeds, and be chearful.
AIR XXXI.
You'll think
ere many Days ensue
This Sentence not severe;
I hang your Husband, Child, 'tis true,
But with him hang your Care.
Twang dang dillo dee.
Like a good
Wife, go moan over your dying Husband. That, Child is your
Duty—Consider, Girl, you can't have the Man and the Money too— so
make yourself as easy as you can, by getting all you can from him.
[Exit Lockit.]
[Enter Macheath.]
LUCY. Though
the Ordinary was out of the way to-day, I hope, my
Dear, you will, upon the first Opportunity, quiet my Scruples—Oh
Sir! my Father's hard heart is not to be soften'd, and I am in the
utmost Despair.
MACHEATH. But
if I could raise a small Sum—Would not twenty
Guineas, think you, move him?—Of all the Arguments in the way of
Business, the Perquisite is the most prevailing—Your Father's
Perquisites for the Escape of Prisoners must amount to a
considerable
Sum in the Year. Money well tim'd, and properly apply'd, will do any
thing.
AIR XXXII.
London Ladies.
If you at an
Office solicit your Due,
And would not have Matters neglected;
You must quicken the Clerk with the Perquisite too,
To do what his Duty directed.
Or would you
the Frowns of a Lady prevent,
She too has this palpable Failing,
The Perquisite softens her into Consent;
That Reason with all is prevailing.
LUCY. What Love
or Money can do shall be done: for all my Comfort depends upon your
Safety.
[Enter Polly.]
POLLY. Where is
my dear Husband?—Was a Rope ever intended for this
Neck!—O let me throw my Arms about it, and throttle thee with Love!-
-Why dost thou turn away from me?—'Tis thy Polly—'Tis thy Wife.
MACHEATH. Was
ever such an unfortunate Rascal as I am!
LUCY. Was there
ever such another Villain!
POLLY. O
Macheath! was it for this we parted? Taken! Imprisoned! Try'd!
Hang'd—cruel Reflection! I'll stay with thee 'till Death— no Force
shall tear thy dear Wife from thee now.—What means my Love?—Not one
kind Word! not one kind Look! think what thy Polly suffers to see
thee in this Condition.
AIR XXXIII. All
in the Downs, &c.
Thus when the
Swallow seeking Prey,
Within the Sash is closely pent,
His Consort, with bemoaning Lay,
Without sits pining for th' Event.
Her chatt'ring Lovers all around her skim;
She heeds them not (poor Bird!) her Soul's with him.
MACHEATH.
[Aside.] I must disown her. [Aloud.] The Wench is distracted.
LUCY. Am I then
bilk'd of my Virtue? Can I have no Reparation?
Sure Men were born to lie, and Women to believe them! O Villain!
Villain!
POLLY. Am I not
thy Wife?—Thy Neglect of me, thy Aversion to me too severely proves
it.—Look on me.—Tell me, am I not thy Wife?
LUCY.
Perfidious Wretch!
POLLY.
Barbarous Husband!
LUCY. Hadst
thou been hang'd five Months ago, I had been happy.
POLLY. And I
too—If you had been kind to me 'till Death, it would not have vexed
me—And that's no very unreasonable Request, (though from a Wife) to
a Man who hath not above seven or eight Days to live.
LUCY. Art thou
then married to another? Hast thou two Wives,
Monster?
MACHEATH. If
Women's Tongues can cease for an Answer—hear me.
LUCY. I
won't.—Flesh and Blood can't bear my Usage.
POLLY. Shall I
not claim my own? Justice bids me speak.
AIR XXXIV. Have
you heard of a frolicksome Ditty, &c.
MACHEATH. How
happy could I be with either,
Were t'other dear Charmer away!
But while you thus teaze me together,
To neither a Word will I say;
But tol de rol, &c.
POLLY. Sure, my
Dear, there ought to be some Preference shewn to a Wife! At least
she may claim the Appearance of it. He must be distracted with his
Misfortunes, or he could not use me thus.
LUCY. O
Villain, Villain! thou hast deceiv'd me—I could even inform against
thee with Pleasure. Not a Prude wishes more heartily to have Facts
against her intimate Acquaintance, than I now wish to have Facts
against thee. I would have her Satisfaction, and they should all
out.
AIR XXXV. Irish
Trot.
POLLY. I am
bubbled.
LUCY. . . . I'm bubbled.
POLLY. O how I am troubled!
LUCY. Bambouzled, and bit!
POLLY. . . . My Distresses are doubled.
LUCY. When you come to the Tree, should the Hangman refuse,
These Fingers, with Pleasure, could fasten the Noose.
POLLY. I'm bubbled, &c.
MACHEATH. Be
pacified, my dear Lucy—This is all a Fetch of Polly's, to make me
desperate with you in case I get off. If I am hang'd, she would fain
have the Credit of being thought my Widow—Really, Polly, this is no
time for a Dispute of this sort; for whenever you are talking of
Marriage, I am thinking of Hanging.
POLLY. And hast
thou the Heart to persist in disowning me?
MACHEATH. And
hast thou the Heart to persist in persuading me that I am married?
Why, Polly, dost thou seek to aggravate my Misfortunes?
LUCY. Really,
Miss Peachum, you but expose yourself. Besides, 'tis barbarous in
you to worry a Gentleman in his Circumstances.
AIR XXXVI.
POLLY. Cease
your Funning;
Force or Cunning
Never shall my Heart trapan.
All these Sallies
Are but Malice
To seduce my constant Man.
'Tis most certain,
By their flirting
Women oft' have Envy shown.
Pleas'd, to ruin
Others wooing;
Never happy in their own.
POLLY. Decency,
Madam, methinks might teach you to behave yourself with some Reserve
with the Husband, while his Wife is present.
MACHEATH. But
seriously, Polly, this is carrying the Joke a little too far.
LUCY. If you
are determin'd, Madam, to raise a Disturbance in the
Prison, I shall be obliged to send for the Turnkey to shew you the
Door. I am sorry, Madam, you force me to be so ill-bred.
POLLY. Give me
leave to tell you, Madam: These forward Airs don't become you in the
least, Madam. And my Duty, Madam, obliges me to stay with my
Husband, Madam.
AIR XXXVII.
Good-morrow, Gossip Joan.
LUCY. Why how
now, Madam Flirt?
If you thus must chatter;
And are for flinging Dirt,
Let's try who best can spatter;
Madam Flirt.
POLLY. Why how
now, saucy Jade;
Sure the Wench is tipsy!
How can you see me made [To him.]
The Scoff of such a Gipsy?
Saucy Jade! [To her.]
[Enter Peachum.]
PEACHUM.
Where's my Wench? Ah Hussy! Hussy!—Come you home, you
Slut; and when your Fellow is hang'd, hang yourself, to make your
Family some Amends.
POLLY. Dear,
dear Father, do not tear me from him—I must speak; I have more to
say to him—Oh! twist thy Fetters about me, that he may not haul me
from thee!
PEACHUM. Sure
all Women are alike! If ever they commit the Folly, they are sure to
commit another by exposing themselves—Away Not a Word more—You are
my Prisoner, now, Hussy.
AIR XXXVIII.
Irish Howl.
POLLY. No Power
on Earth can e'er divide
The Knot that sacred Love hath ty'd.
When Parents draw against our Mind,
The True-Love's Knot they faster bind.
Oh, oh ray, oh Amborah—oh, oh, &c.
[Holding
Macheath, Peachum pulling her.]
SCENE III. The Same.
Lucy, Macheath.
MACHEATH. I am
naturally compassionate, Wife; so that I could not use the Wench as
she deserv'd; which made you at first suspect there was something in
what she said.
LUCY. Indeed,
my Dear, I was strangely puzzled.
MACHEATH. If
that had been the Case, her Father would never have brought me into
this Circumstance— No, Lucy, I had rather die than be false to thee.
LUCY. How happy
am I, if you say this from your Heart! For I love thee so, that I
could sooner bear to see thee hang'd than in the Arms of another.
MACHEATH. But
could'st thou bear to see me hang'd?
LUCY. O
Macheath, I can never live to see that Day.
MACHEATH. You
see, Lucy; in the Account of Love you are in my Debt, and you must
now be convinc'd, that I rather choose to die than be another's.
Make me, if possible, love thee more, and let me owe my Life to
thee—If you refuse to assist me, Peachum and your Father will
immediately put me beyond all means of Escape.
LUCY. My
Father, I know, hath been drinking hard with the Prisoners: and I
fancy he is now taking his Nap in his own Room—If I can procure the
Keys, shall I go off with thee, my Dear?
MACHEATH. If we
are together, 'twill be impossible to lie conceal'd. As soon as the
Search begins to be a little cool, I will send to thee—'Till then my
Heart is thy Prisoner.
LUCY. Come
then, my dear Husband—owe thy Life to me—and though you love me
not—be grateful,—but that Polly runs in my Head strangely.
MACHEATH. A
moment of Time may make us unhappy for ever.
AIR XXXIX. The
Lass of Patie's Mill, &c.
LUCY. I like
the Fox shall grieve,
Whose Mate hath left her Side,
Whom Hounds from Morn to Eve,
Chase o'er the Country wide.
Where can my Lover hide?
Where cheat the wary Pack?
If Love be not his Guide,
He never will come back! [Exeunt.]
ACT III. SCENE I.
Scene, Newgate.
Lockit, Lucy.
LOCKIT. To be
sure, Wench, you must have been aiding and abetting to help him to
this Escape.
LUCY. Sir, here
hath been Peachum and his Daughter Polly, and to be sure they know
the Ways of Newgate as well as if they had been born and bred in the
Place all their Lives. Why must all your Suspicion light upon me?
LOCKIT. Lucy,
Lucy, I will have none of these shuffling Answers.
LUCY. Well
then—If I know any thing of him I wish I may be burnt!
LOCKIT. Keep
your Temper, Lucy, or I shall pronounce you guilty.
LUCY. Keep
yours, Sir,—I do wish I may be burnt. I do—And what can I say more
to convince you?
LOCKIT. Did he
tip handsomly?—How much did he come down with? Come, Hussy, don't
cheat your Father; and I shall not be angry with you—Perhaps, you
have made a better Bargain with him than I could have done—How much,
my good Girl?
LUCY. You know,
Sir, I am fond of him, and would have given Money to have kept him
with me.
LOCKIT. Ah
Lucy! thy Education might have put thee more upon thy
Guard; for a Girl in the Bar of an Ale-house is always besieg'd.
LUCY. Dear Sir,
mention not my Education—for 'twas to that I owe my
Ruin.
AIR XL. If
Love's a sweet Passion, &c.
When young at
the Bar you first taught me to score,
And bid me be free of my Lips, and no more;
I was kiss'd by the Parson, the Squire, and the Sot,
When the Guest was departed, the Kiss was forgot.
But his Kiss was so sweet, and so closely he prest,
That I languish'd and pin'd till I granted the rest.
If you can
forgive me, Sir, I will make a fair Confession, for to be sure he
hath been a most barbarous Villain to me.
LOCKIT. And so
you have let him escape, Hussy—Have you?
LUCY. When a
Woman loves; a kind Look, a tender Word can persuade her to any
thing—And I could ask no other Bribe.
LOCKIT. Thou
wilt always be a vulgar Slut, Lucy.—If you would not be look'd upon
as a Fool, you should never do any thing but upon the foot of
Interest. Those that act otherwise are their own Bubbles.
LUCY. But Love,
Sir, is a Misfortune that may happen to the most discreet Women, and
in Love we are all Fools alike—Notwithstanding all he swore, I am
now fully convinc'd that Polly Peachum is actually his Wife.—Did I
let him escape, (Fool that I was!) to go to her?— Polly will wheedle
herself into his Money, and then Peachum will hang him, and cheat us
both.
LOCKIT. So I am
to be ruin'd, because, forsooth, you must be in
Love!—a very pretty Excuse!
LUCY. I could
murder that impudent happy Strumpet: —I gave him his
Life, and that Creature enjoys the Sweets of it.—Ungrateful
Macheath!
AIR XLI.
South-Sea Ballad.
My Love is all
Madness and Folly,
Alone I lie,
Toss, tumble, and cry,
What a happy Creature is Polly!
Was e'er such a Wretch as I!
With rage I redden like Scarlet,
That my dear inconstant Varlet,
Stark blind to my Charms,
Is lost in the Arms
Of that Jilt, that inveigling Harlot!
Stark blind to my Charms,
Is lost in the Arms
Of that Jilt, that inveigling Harlot!
This, this my Resentment alarms.
LOCKIT. And so,
after all this Mischief, I must stay here to be entertain'd with
your Catterwauling, Mrs. Puss!—Out of my Sight, wanton Strumpet! you
shall fast and mortify yourself into Reason, with now and then a
little handsom Discipline to bring you to your Senses.—Go.
[Exit Lucy.]
Peachum then
intends to outwit me in this Affair; but I'll be even with him.—The
Dog is leaky in his Liquor, so I'll ply him that way, get the Secret
from him, and turn this Affair to my own Advantage.— Lions, Wolves,
and Vultures don't live together in Herds, Droves or Flocks.—Of all
Animals of Prey, Man is the only sociable one. Every one of us preys
upon his Neighbour, and yet we herd together.— Peachum is my
Companion, my Friend.—According to the Custom of the World, indeed,
he may quote thousands of Precedents for cheating me— And shall not
I make use of the Privilege of Friendship to make him a Return.
AIR XLII.
Packington's Pound.
Thus Gamesters
united in Friendship are found,
Though they know that their Industry all is a Cheat;
They flock to their Prey at the Dice-Box's Sound,
And join to promote one another's Deceit.
But if by mishap
They fail of a Chap,
To keep in their Hands, they each other entrap.
Like Pikes, lank with Hunger, who miss of their Ends,
They bite their Companions, and prey on their Friends.
Now, Peachum,
you and I, like honest Tradesmen, are to have a fair
Trial which of us two can over-reach the other.
SCENE II. A Gaming-House.
Macheath in a fine tarnish'd
Coat, Ben Budge, Matt of the Mint.
MACHEATH. I am
sorry, Gentlemen, the Road was so barren of Money. When my Friends
are in Difficulties, I am always glad that my Fortune can be
serviceable to them. [Gives them Money.] You see, Gentlemen, I am
not a mere Court Friend, who professes every thing and will do
nothing.
AIR XLIII.
Lillibullero.
The Modes of
the Court so common are grown,
That a true Friend can hardly be met;
Friendship for Interest is but a Loan,
Which they let out for what they can get.
'Tis true, you find
Some Friends so kind,
Who will give you good Counsel themselves to defend.
In sorrowful Ditty,
They promise, they pity,
But shift for your Money, from Friend to Friend.
But we,
Gentlemen, have still Honour enough to break through the Corruptions
of the World.—And while I can serve you, you may command me.
BEN. It grieves
my Heart that so generous a Man should be involv'd in such
Difficulties, as oblige him to live with such ill Company, and herd
with Gamesters.
MATT. See the
Partiality of Mankind!—One Man may steal a Horse, better than
another look over a Hedge.—Of all Mechanics, of all servile
Handicrafts-men, a Gamester is the vilest. But yet, as many of the
Quality are of the Profession, he is admitted amongst the politest
Company. I wonder we are not more respected.
MACHEATH. There
will be deep Play to-night at Marybone, and consequently Money may
be pick'd up upon the Road. Meet me there, and I'll give you the
Hint who is worth Setting.
MATT. The
Fellow with a brown Coat with a narrow Gold Binding, I am told, is
never without Money.
MACHEATH. What
do you mean, Matt?—Sure you will not think of meddling with
him!—He's a good honest kind of a Fellow, and one of us.
BEN. To be
sure, Sir, we will put ourselves under your Direction.
MACHEATH. Have
an Eye upon the Money-Lenders.—A Rouleau, or two, would prove a
pretty sort of an Expedition. I hate Extortion.
MATT. Those
Rouleaus are very pretty Things.—I hate your Bank
Bills.—There is such a Hazard in putting them off.
MACHEATH. There
is a certain Man of Distinction, who in his Time hath nick'd me out
of a great deal of the Ready. He is in my Cash, Ben;—I'll point him
out to you this Evening, and you shall draw upon him for the
Debt.—The Company are met; I hear the Dice-Box in the other Room.
So, Gentlemen, your Servant. You'll meet me at Mary- bone.
SCENE III. Peachum's Lock.
A Table with Wine, Brandy,
Pipes and Tobacco.
Peachum, Lockit.
LOCKIT. The
Coronation Account, Brother Peachum, is of so intricate a nature,
that I believe it will never be settled.
PEACHUM. It
consists indeed of a great Variety of Articles.—It was worth to our
People, in Fees of different kinds, above ten Instalments.—This is
part of the Account, Brother, that lies open before us.
LOCKIT. A
Lady's Tail of rich Brocade: —that, I see, is dispos'd of.
PEACHUM. To
Mrs. Diana Trapes, the Tally-Woman and she will make a good Hand
on't in Shoes and Slippers, to trick out young Ladies, upon their
going into Keeping. -
LOCKIT. But I
don't see any Article of the Jewels.
PEACHUM. Those
are so well known that they must be sent abroad— You'll find them
enter'd under the Article of Exportation.—As for the Snuff-Boxes,
Watches, Swords, &c.—I thought it best to enter them under their
several Heads.
LOCKIT. Seven
and twenty Women's Pockets complete; with the several things therein
contain'd; all Seal'd, Number'd, and Enter'd.
PEACHUM. But,
Brother, it is impossible for us now to enter upon this Affair,—We
should have the whole Day before us.—Besides, the Account of the
last Half Year's Plate is in a Book by itself, which lies at the
other Office.
LOCKIT. Bring
us then more Liquor—To-day shall be for Pleasure—To- morrow for
Business—Ah, Brother, those Daughters of ours are two slippery
Hussies—Keep a watchful Eye upon Polly, and Macheath in a Day or two
shall be our own again.
AIR XLIV. Down
in the North Country, &c.
LOCKIT. What
Gudgeons are we Men!
Ev'ry Woman's easy Prey.
Though we have felt the Hook, agen
We bite and they betray.
The Bird that
hath been trapt,
When he hears his calling Mate,
To her he flies, again he's clapt
Within the wiry Grate.
PEACHUM. But
what signifies catching the Bird, if your Daughter Lucy will set
open the Door of the Cage?
LOCKIT. If men
were answerable for the Follies and Frailties of their Wives and
Daughters, no Friends could keep a good Correspondence together for
two Days.—This in unkind of you, Brother; for among good Friends,
what they say or do goes for nothing.
[Enter a
Servant.]
SERVANT. Sir,
here's Mrs. Diana Trapes wants to speak with you.
PEACHUM. Shall
we admit her, Brother Lockit?
LOCKIT. By all
means,—She's a good Customer, and a fine-spoken
Woman—And a Woman who drinks and talks so freely, will enliven the
Conversation.
PEACHUM. Desire
her to walk in.
[Exit Servant.]
Peachum,
Lockit, Mrs. Trapes.
PEACHUM. Dear
Mrs. Dye, your Servant—One may know by your Kiss, that your Ginn is
excellent.
MRS. TRAPES. I
was always very curious in my Liquors.
LOCKIT. There
is no perfum'd Breath like it—I have been long acquainted with the
Flavour of those Lips—Han't I, Mrs. Dye.
MRS. TRAPES.
Fill it up—I take as large Draughts of Liquor, as I did of Love.—I
hate a Flincher in either.
AIR XLV. A
Shepherd kept Sheep, &c.
In the Days of
my Youth I could bill like a Dove, fa, la, la, &c.
Like a Sparrow at all times was ready for Love, fa, la, la, &c.
The Life of all Mortals in Kissing should pass,
Lip to Lip while we're young—then the Lip to the Glass, fa, la, &c.
But now, Mr.
Peachum, to our Business.—If you have Blacks of any kind, brought in
of late; Mantoes—Velvet Scarfs—Petticoats—Let it be what it will—I
am your Chap—for all my Ladies are very fond of Mourning.
PEACHUM. Why,
look ye, Mrs. Dye—you deal so hard with us, that we can afford to
give the Gentlemen, who venture their Lives for the Goods, little or
nothing.
MRS. TRAPES.
The hard Times oblige me to go very near in my Dealing.—To be sure,
of late Years I have been a great Sufferer by the Parliament.—Three
thousand Pounds would hardly make me amends.— The Act for destroying
the Mint, was a severe Cut upon our Business— 'Till then, if a
Customer stept out of the way—we knew where to have her—No doubt you
know Mrs. Coaxer—there's a Wench now ('till to- day) with a good
Suit of Clothes of mine upon her Back, and I could never set Eyes
upon her for three Months together.—Since the Act too against
Imprisonment for small Sums, my Loss there too hath been very
considerable, and it must be so, when a Lady can borrow a handsom
Petticoat, or a clean Gown, and I not have the least Hank upon her!
And, o' my Conscience, now-a-days most Ladies take a Delight in
cheating, when they can do it with Safety.
PEACHUM. Madam,
you had a handsom Gold Watch of us 'tother Day for seven
Guineas.—Considering we must have our Profit.—To a Gentleman upon
the Road, a Gold Watch will be scarce worth the taking.
MRS. TRAPES.
Consider, Mr. Peachum, that Watch was remarkable, and not of very
safe Sale.—If you have any black Velvet Scarfs—they are a handsom
Winter-wear, and take with most Gentlemen who deal with my
Customers.—'Tis I that put the Ladies upon a good Foot. 'Tis not
Youth or Beauty that fixes their Price. The Gentlemen always pay
according to their Dress, from half a Crown to two Guineas; and yet
those Hussies make nothing of bilking of me.—Then too, allowing for
Accidents.—I have eleven fine Customers now down under the Surgeon's
Hands—what with Fees and other Expenses, there are great Goings-out,
and no Comings in, and not a Farthing to pay for at least a Month's
Clothing.—We run great Risques—great Risques indeed.
PEACHUM. As I
remember, you said something just now of Mrs. Coaxer.
MRS. TRAPES.
Yes, Sir.—To be sure I stript her of a Suit of my own Clothes about
two Hours ago; and have left her as she should be, in her Shift,
with a Lover of hers at my House. She call'd him up Stairs, as he
was going to Mary-bone in a Hackney Coach.—And I hope, for her own
sake and mine, she will persuade the Captain to redeem her, for the
Captain is very generous to the Ladies.
LOCKIT. What
Captain?
MRS. TRAPES. He
thought I did not know him—An intimate Acquaintance of yours, Mr.
Peachum—Only Captain Macheath—as fine as a Lord.
PEACHUM.
To-morrow, dear Mrs. Dye, you shall set your own Price upon any of
the Goods you like—We have at least half a Dozen Velvet Scarfs, and
all at your Service. Will you give me leave to make you a Present of
this Suit of Night-clothes for your own wearing?—But are you sure it
is Captain Macheath.
MRS. TRAPES.
Though he thinks I have forgot him; no body knows him better. I have
taken a great deal of the Captain's Money in my Time at second-hand,
for he always lov'd to have his Ladies well drest.
PEACHUM. Mr.
Lockit and I have a little Business with the Captain;—
You understand me—and we will satisfy you for Mrs. Coaxer's Debt.
LOCKIT. Depend
upon it—we will deal like Men of Honour.
MRS. TRAPES. I
don't enquire after your Affairs—so whatever
happens, I wash my Hands on't—It hath always been my Maxim, that one
Friend should assist another—But if you please—I'll take one of the
Scarfs home with me. 'Tis always good to have something in Hand.
SCENE IV. Newgate.
LUCY. Jealousy, Rage, Love and
Fear are at once tearing me to pieces, How I am weather-beaten and
shatter'd with Distresses!
AIR XLVI. One
Evening, having lost my Way, &c.
I'm like a
Skiff on the Ocean tost,
Now high, now low, with each Billow born,
With her Rudder broke, and her Anchor lost,
Deserted and all forlorn.
While thus I lie rolling and tossing all Night,
That Polly lies sporting on Seas of Delight!
Revenge, Revenge, Revenge,
Shall appease my restless Spirit.
I have the
Rats-bane ready.—I run no Risque; for I can lay her Death upon the
Ginn, and so many die of that naturally that I shall never be call'd
in question.—But say, I were to be hang'd.—I never could be hang'd
for any thing that would give me greater Comfort, than the poisoning
that Slut.
[Enter Filch.]
FILCH. Madam,
here's Miss Polly come to wait upon you.
LUCY. Show her
in.
[Enter Polly.]
Dear Madam,
your Servant.—I hope you will pardon my Passion, when I was so happy
to see you last.—I was so over-run with the Spleen, that I was
perfectly out of myself. And really when one hath the Spleen, every
thing is to be excus'd by a Friend.
AIR XLVII. Now
Roger, I'll tell thee because thou 'rt my Son.
When a Wife's
in her Pout,
(As she's sometimes, no doubt;)
The good Husband as meek as a Lamb,
Her Vapours to still,
First grants her her Will,
And the quieting Draught is a Dram. Poor Man!
And the quieting Draught is a Dram.
- I wish all
our Quarrels might have so comfortable a Reconciliation.
POLLY. I have
no Excuse for my own Behaviour, Madam, but my
Misfortunes.—And really, Madam, I suffer too upon your Account.
LUCY. But, Miss
Polly—in the way of Friendship, will you give me leave to propose a
Glass of Cordial to you?
POLLY.
Strong-Waters are apt to give me the Headache—I hope, Madam, you
will excuse me.
LUCY. Not the
greatest Lady in the Land could have better in her
Closet, for her own private drinking.—You seem mighty low in
Spirits, my Dear.
POLLY. I am
sorry, Madam, my Health will not allow me to accept of your Offer.—I
should not have left you in the rude manner I did when we met last,
Madam, had not my Papa haul'd me away so unexpectedly—I was indeed
somewhat provok'd, and perhaps might use some Expressions that were
disrespectful.—But really, Madam, the Captain treated me with so
much Contempt and Cruelty, that I deserv'd your Pity, rather than
your Resentment.
LUCY. But since
his Escape, no doubt all Matters are made up again.- -Ah Polly!
Polly! 'tis I am the unhappy Wife; and he loves you as if you were
only his Mistress.
POLLY. Sure,
Madam, you cannot think me so happy as to be the object of your
Jealousy.—A Man is always afraid of a Woman who loves him too
well—so that I must expect to be neglected and avoided.
LUCY. Then our
Cases, my dear Polly, are exactly alike. Both of us indeed have been
too fond.
AIR XLVIII. O
Bessy Bell.
POLLY. A Curse
attend that Woman's Love,
Who always would be pleasing.
LUCY. The Pertness of the billing Dove,
Like Tickling, is but teazing.
POLLY. What then in Love can Woman do:
LUCY. If we grow fond they shun us.
POLLY. And when we fly them, they pursue:
LUCY. But leave us when they've won us.
LUCY. Love is
so very whimsical in both Sexes, that it is impossible to be
lasting.—But my Heart is particular, and contradicts my own
Observation.
POLLY. But
really, Mistress Lucy, by his last Behaviour, I think I ought to
envy you.—When I was forc'd from him, he did not shew the least
Tenderness.—But perhaps, he hath a Heart not capable of it.
AIR XLIX. Would
Fate to me Belinda give.
Among the Men,
Coquettes we find,
Who court by turns all Woman-kind;
And we grant all their Hearts desir'd,
When they are flatter'd, and admir'd.
The Coquettes
of both Sexes are Self-lovers, and that is a Love no other whatever
can dispossess. I hear, my dear Lucy, our Husband is one of those.
LUCY. Away with
these melancholy Reflections,—indeed, my dear Polly, we are both of
us a Cup too low—Let me prevail upon you to accept of my Offer.
AIR L. Come,
sweet Lass.
Come, sweet
Lass,
Let's banish Sorrow
'Till To-morrow;
Come, sweet Lass,
Let's take a chirping Glass.
Wine can clear
The Vapours of Despair
And make us light as Air;
Then drink, and banish Care.
I can't bear,
Child, to see you in such low Spirits.—And I must persuade you to
what I know will do you good. [Aside.] I shall now soon be even with
the hypocrytical Strumpet. [Exit.]
POLLY. All this
Wheedling of Lucy cannot be for nothing.—At this time too! when I
know she hates me!—The Dissembling of a Woman is always the
Forerunner of Mischief.—By pouring Strong-Waters down my Throat, she
thinks to pump some Secrets out of me,—I'll be upon my Guard, and
won't taste a Drop of her Liquor, I'm resolv'd.
[Re-enter Lucy,
with Strong-Waters.]
LUCY. Come,
Miss Polly.
POLLY. Indeed,
Child, you have given yourself trouble to no purpose.—You must, my
Dear, excuse me.
LUCY. Really,
Miss Polly, you are as squeamishly affected about taking a Cup of
Strong-Waters as a Lady before Company. I vow, Polly, I shall take
it monstrously ill if you refuse me.—Brandy and Men (though Women
love them ever so well) are always taken by us with some
Reluctance—unless 'tis in private.
POLLY. I
protest, Madam, it goes against me.—What do I see! Macheath again in
Custody!—Now every Glimm'ring of Happiness is lost.
[Drops the
Glass of Liquor on the Ground.]
LUCY. Since
things are thus, I'm glad the Wench hath escap'd: for by this Event,
'tis plain, she was not happy enough to deserve to be poison'd.
[Enter Lockit,
Macheath, Peachum.]
LOCKIT. Set
your Heart to rest, Captain.—You have neither the Chance of Love or
Money for another Escape,—for you are order'd to be call'd down upon
your Trial immediately.
PEACHUM. Away,
Hussies!—This is not a Time for a Man to be hamper'd with his Wives
.—You see, the Gentleman is in Chains already.
LUCY. O
Husband, Husband, my Heart long'd to see thee; but to see thee thus
distracts me?
POLLY. Will not
my dear Husband look upon his Polly? Why hadst thou not flown to me
for Protection? with me thou hadst been safe.
AIR LI. The
last time I went o'er the Moor.
POLLY. Hither,
dear Husband, turn your Eyes.
LUCY. Bestow one Glance to cheer me.
POLLY. Think with that Look, thy Polly dies.
LUCY. O shun me not—but hear me.
POLLY. 'Tis Polly sues.
LUCY. —'Tis Lucy speaks.
POLLY. Is thus true Love requited?
LUCY. My Heart is bursting.
POLLY. —Mine too breaks.
LUCY. Must I
POLLY. —Must I be slighted?
MACHEATH. What
would you have me say, Ladies?—You see this affair will soon be at
an end, without my disobliging either of you.
PEACHUM. But
the settling this Point, Captain, might prevent a Law-
Suit between your two Widows.
AIR LII. Tom
Tinker's my true Love.
MACHEATH. Which
way shall I turn me—How can I decide?
Wives, the Day of our Death, are as fond as a Bride.
One Wife is too much for most Husbands to hear,
But two at a time there's no mortal can bear.
This way, and that way, and which way I will,
What would comfort the one, t' other Wife would take ill.
POLLY. But if
his own Misfortunes have made him insensible to mine—
A Father sure will be more compassionate—Dear, dear Sir, sink the
material Evidence, and bring him off at his Trial—Polly upon her
Knees begs it of you.
AIR LIII. I am
a poor Shepherd undone.
When my Heroe
in Court appears,
And stands arraign'd for his Life;
Then think of poor Polly's Tears;
For Ah! poor Polly's his Wife.
Like the Sailor he holds up his hand,
Distrest on the dashing Wave.
To die a dry Death at Land,
Is as bad as a watery Grave.
And alas, poor Polly!
A lack, and well-a-day!
Before I was in Love,
Oh! every Month was May.
LUCY. If
Peachum's Heart is harden'd; sure you, Sir, will have more
Compassion on a Daughter.—I know the Evidence is in your Power.—How
then can you be a Tyrant to me? [Kneeling.]
AIR LIV. Ianthe
the lovely, &c.
When he holds
up his Hand arraign'd for his Life,
O think of your Daughter, and think I'm his Wife!
What are Canons, or Bombs, or clashing of Swords?
For Death is more certain by Witnesses Words.
Then nail up their Lips; that dread Thunder allay;
And each Month of my Life will hereafter be May.
LOCKIT.
Macheath's Time is come, Lucy.—We know our own Affairs, therefore
let us have no more Whimpering or Whining.
AIR LV. A
Cobler there was, &c.
Ourselves, like
the Great, to secure a Retreat,
When Matters require it, must give up our Gang:
And good reason why,
Or, instead of the Fry,
Ev'n Peachum and I.
Like poor petty Rascals, might hang, hang;
Like poor petty Rascals, might hang.
PEACHUM. Set
your Heart at rest, Polly.—Your Husband is to die to- day.—Therefore
if you are not already provided, 'tis high time to look about for
another. There's Comfort for you, you Slut.
LOCKIT. We are
ready, Sir, to conduct you to the Old Baily.
AIR LVI. Bonny
Dundee.
MACHEATH. The
Charge is prepar'd; the Lawyers are met,
The Judges all rang'd (a terrible Show!)
I go, undismay'd.—For Death is a Debt,
A Debt on Demand.—So take what I owe.
Then farewell, my Love—Dear Charmers, adieu.
Contented I die—'Tis the better for you.
Here ends all Disputes the rest of our Lives,
For this way at once I please all my Wives.
Now, Gentlemen,
I am ready to attend you.
[Exeunt
Macheath, Lockit, and Peachum.]
[Enter Filch.]
POLLY. Follow
them, Filch, to the Court. And when the Trial is over, bring me a
particular Account of his Behaviour, and of every thing that
happen'd—You'll find me here with Miss Lucy. [Exit Filch.] But why
is all this Musick?
LUCY. The
Prisoners, whose Trials are put off 'till next Session, are
diverting themselves.
POLLY. Sure
there is nothing so charming as Music! I'm fond of it
to Distraction!—But alas!—now, all Mirth seems an Insult upon my
Affliction.—Let us retire, my dear Lucy, and indulge our Sorrows.—
The noisy Crew, you see, are coming upon us. [Exeunt.]
[A Dance of
Prisoners in Chains, &c.]
SCENE V. The Condemn'd Hold.
Macheath, in a melancholy Posture.
AIR LVII. Happy Groves.
O cruel, cruel,
cruel Case!
Must I suffer this Disgrace?
AIR LVIII. Of
all the Girls that are so smart.
Of all the
Friends in time of Grief,
When threatning Death looks grimmer,
Not one so sure can bring Relief,
As this best Friend, a Brimmer. [Drinks.]
AIR LIX.
Britons strike home.
Since I must
swing,—I scorn, I scorn to wince or whine.
[Rises.]
AIR LX. Chevy
Chase.
But now again
my Spirits sink;
I'll raise them high with Wine. [Drinks a Glass of Wine.]
AIR LXI. To old
Sir Simon the King.
But Valour the
stronger grows,
The stronger Liquor we'er drinking;
And how can we feel our Woes,
When we've lost the Trouble of Thinking? [Drinks.]
AIR LXII. Joy
to Great Caesar.
If thus—A Man
can die
Much bolder with Brandy. [Pours out a Bumper of Brandy.]
AIR LXIII.
There was an old Woman.
So I drink off
this Bumper.—And now I can stand the Test,
And my Comrades shall see, that I die as brave as the Best.
[Drinks.]
AIR LXIV. Did
you ever hear of a gallant Sailor.
But can I leave
my pretty Hussies,
Without one Tear, or tender Sigh?
AIR LXV. Why
are mine Eyes still flowing.
Their Eyes,
their Lips, their Busses
Recall my Love,—Ah must I die!
AIR LXVI. Green
Sleeves.
Since Laws were
made for ev'ry Degree,
To curb Vice in others, as well as me,
I wonder we han't better Company,
Upon Tyburn Tree!
But Gold from Law can take out the Sting;
And if rich Men like us were to swing,
'Twou'd thin the Land, such Numbers to string
Upon Tyburn Tree!
JAILOR. Some
Friends of yours, Captain, desire to be admitted
I leave you together.
[Enter Ben
Budge, Matt of the Mint.]
MACHEATH. For
my having broke Prison, you see, Gentlemen, I am order'd immediate
Execution.—The Sheriff's Officers, I believe, are now at the
Door.—That Jemmy Twitcher should peach me, I own surpris'd me!—'Tis
a plain Proof that the World is all alike, and that even our Gang
can no more trust one another than other People. Therefore, I beg
you, Gentlemen, look well to yourselves, for in all probability you
may live some Months longer.
MATT. We are
heartily sorry, Captain, for your Misfortune.—But 'tis what we must
all come to.
MACHEATH.
Peachum and Lockit, you know, are infamous Scoundrels.
Their Lives are as much in your Power, as yours are in theirs.—
Remember your dying Friend!—'Tis my last Request.—Bring those
Villains to the Gallows before you, and I am satisfied.
MATT. We'll
do't.
JAILOR. Miss
Polly and Miss Lucy intreat a Word with you.
MACHEATH.
Gentlemen, adieu.
[Exeunt Ben
Budge and Matt.]
[Enter Lucy and
Polly.]
MACHEATH. My
dear Lucy—My dear Polly—Whatsoever hath pass'd between us is now at
an end—If you are fond of marrying again, the best Advice I can give
you, is to Ship yourselves off for the West- Indies, where you'll
have a fair Chance of getting a Husband a-piece, or by good Luck,
two or three, as you like best.
POLLY. How can
I support this Sight!
LUCY. There is
nothing moves one so much as a great Man in Distress.
AIR LXVII. All
you that must take a Leap, &c.
LUCY. Would I
might be hang'd!
POLLY. —And I would so too!
LUCY. To be hang'd with you.
POLLY. —My Dear, with you.
MACHEATH. O leave me to Thought! I fear! I doubt!
I tremble! I droop!—See, my Courage is out.
[Turns up the empty Bottle.]
POLLY. No Token of Love?
MACHEATH.—See, my Courage is out.
[Turns up the empty Pot.]
LUCY. No Token of Love?
POLLY. —Adieu.
LUCY. —Farewell.
MACHEATH. But hark! I hear the Toll of the Bell.
CHORUS. Tol de rol lol, &c.
JAILOR. Four
Women more, Captain, with a Child apiece! See, here they come.
[Enter Women
and Children.]
MACHEATH.
What—four Wives more!—This is too much—Here—tell the
Sheriff's Officers I am ready.
[Exit Macheath
guarded.]
[To them, Enter
Player and Beggar.]
PLAYER. But,
honest Friend, I hope you don't intend that Macheath shall be really
executed.
BEGGAR. Most
certainly, Sir.—To make the Piece perfect, I was for doing strict
poetical Justice.—Macheath is to be hang'd; and for the other
Personages of the Drama, the Audience must have suppos'd they were
all either hang'd or transported.
PLAYER. Why
then, Friend, this is a downright deep Tragedy. The
Catastrophe is manifestly wrong, for an Opera must end happily.
BEGGAR. Your
Objection, Sir, is very just, and is easily remov'd.
For you must allow, that in this kind of Drama, 'tis no matter how
absurdly things are brought about—So—you Rabble there—run and cry,
A Reprieve!—let the Prisoner be brought back to his Wives in
Triumph.
PLAYER. All
this we must do, to comply with the Taste of the Town.
BEGGAR. Through
the whole Piece you may observe such a Similitude of Manners in high
and low Life, that it is difficult to determine whether (in the
fashionable Vices) the fine Gentlemen imitate the Gentlemen of the
Road, or the Gentlemen of the Road the fine Gentlemen.—Had the Play
remained, as I at first intended, it would have carried a most
excellent Moral. 'Twould have shewn that the lower Sort of People
have their Vices in a degree as well as the Rich: And that they are
punish'd for them.
[To them,
Macheath with Rabble, &c.]
MACHEATH. So,
it seems, I am not left to my Choice, but must have a
Wife at last.—Look ye, my Dears, we will have no Controversy now.
Let us give this Day to Mirth, and I am sure she who thinks herself
my Wife will testify her Joy by a Dance.
ALL. Come, a
Dance—a Dance.
MACHEATH.
Ladies, I hope you will give me leave to present a Partner to each
of you. And (if I may without Offence) for this time, I take Polly
for mine.—And for Life, you Slut,—for we were really marry'd.—As for
the rest.—But at present keep your own Secret. [To Polly.]
[A DANCE.]
AIR LXVIII.
Lumps of Pudding, &c.
Thus I stand
like the Turk, with his Doxies around;
From all Sides their Glances his Passion confound;
For Black, Brown, and Fair, his Inconstancy burns,
And the different Beauties subdue him by turns:
Each calls forth her Charms to provoke his Desires:
Though willing to all, with but one he retires.
But think of this Maxim, and put off your Sorrow,
The Wretch of To-day, may be happy To-morrow.
CHORUS. But think of this Maxim, &c.
