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Trudge. [Capering about] Wows, gire

Ah! how can I forbear me a kiss ! [Wowski goes to Trudge.

To join the jocund dance? Yar. And shall we-shall we be happy?

To and fro, couples go, Inkle. Aye; ever, ever, Yarico.

On the light fantastic toe, Yar. I knew we should – and yet I feared

While with glee, merrily, -but shall I still watch over you? Oh! love,

The rosy hours advance. you surely gave your Yarico such pain, only Yarico. When first the swelling, sea to make her feel this happiness the greater.

Hither bore my love and me, Wows. [Going to Yarico] Oh \Vowski

What then my fate would be, so happy!-and yet I think I not glad neither.

Little did I thinkTrudge. Eh, iVows! How !- why not?

Doom'd to know care and woe, Wows. 'Cause I can't help cry:

Happy still is Yarico; Sir Chr. Then, if that's the case-curse me,

Since her love will constant prore if I think I'm very glad either. What the

And nobly scorn to shrink. plague's the matter with my eyes? - Young Wowski. Whilst all around rejoice, man, your hand-I am now proud and happy

Pipe and tabor raise the voice, to shake it.

It can't be Wowski's choice, Med. Well, sir Christopher, what do you say to my hopeful nephew now?

Whilst Trudge's, to be dumt. Sir Chr. Say! why; confound the fellow, I

No, no, day bliibe and gay,

Shall like massy, missy plas, say, that it is ungenerous enough to remember

Dance and sing, bey ding, ding, the bad action of a man who has virtue left

Strike fiddle and beat drum. in his heart to repent it.-As for you, my good fellow, [to. Trudge] I must, with your Trudge. 'Sbobs! now I'm fix'd for love, master's permission, employ you myself.

My fortune's fair, though block: Trudge. O rare!-Bless your honour!

my wife, Wows! you'll be lady, you jade, to a gover

Who fears domestic strifenor's factotum.

Who cares now a sous! Wows. Iss.--I lady Jactotum.

Merry cheer my dingy dear Sir Chr. And now, my young folks, we'll

Shall sind with her Factolum bere, drive home, and celebrate ihe wedding. Od's

Night and day, I'll frisk and piv

About the house with Wow my life! I long to be skaking, a foot at the siddles, and I shall dance ten times the lighter, Inkle. Love's convert bere behold. for reforming an Inkle, while I have it in my

Banish'd now my thirst of god power to reward the innocence of a Yarico.

Bless'd in these arms to fold

My gentle Yarico.
Hence all care,

all doubt, and fex, Campley. Come, let us dance and sing,

Love anıl joy each want shall de
While all Barbadoes bells shallring:

Happy night, pure delight,
Love scrapes the fiddle string,

Shall make our bosoms glow.
And Venus plays the lule;
lymen gay, foots away,


Let Patty say a word-
Happy at our wedding-day,

A chambermaid may sure be heart

Sure men are grown absurd, Cocks his chio, and figures in,

Thus taking black for white; To tabor, fise, and Ilute. orus. Come then,

To hug and kiss a dingy miss,

Will hardly suit an age like this Narcissa. Since thus each anxious care

Unless, here, some friends appea Is vanish'd into empty air,

Who like this wedding uiget



Tus gen:leman, descended from an ancient family in Devonshire, was born at Excler, and received bis eder. at the free-school of Barnstaple, in that county, under the care of Mr. William Rayner.

He was

bred the Strand: but having a small fortune independent of business, and considering the allendaace on a shar as dation of those talents which he found himseli possessed of, he quilted that oceapation, and applied himseli tsa views, and to the indulgence of his inclination for the Muses. Mr. Gay was born in the year 1688. him secretary, or rather domestic sleward, so the Dutchess of Monmouth; in which slation he continued ginning of the year 1714, at which tiine he accompanied the Earl of Clarendon lo Hanover, whither that bobles: dispatched by Queen Anne. In the ļaller end of the same year, in consequence of the Queen's death, be rerne England, where he lived in the highest estimation and intimacy of friendship with many persons of the art dins both in rank and abilities. He was even particularly laken notice of by Queen Caroline, then Princess of War whom he had the lionour of reading in manuscript his tragedy of The Captives; and in 1976 dedicated his Fuden permission, to the Duke of Cumberland. From This countenance shown to him, and numberless promises made is prelermeni, it was reasonable to suppose, that he would have been geuteelly provided for in some ofhce sex bis inclination and abilities. Instead of which, in 1727, he was offered the place of gentleman-usher to one youngest princesses; an office which, as he looked on it as rather an indignity lo a man whose talents : ce

so much better employed, he thought proper to refuse; and some prelly warm renogstrances were made a occasion by his sincere friends and joalons patrons the Duke and Duchess of Queensberry, which terisia aled sa two nobile presonages withdrawing from court in disgust. Mr. Gay's dependence on the promises of the great, disappointments he met with, he has figuratively described in his fable of The Hare with many Friends,

s! and when first he mentioned it to Swill, the doctor did not much like the project.

the very extraordinary success he met with from public encouragement made an ample amends, both with respect to od satisfaction and omolument, for those private disappointments : for, in the season of 1727 – 28, appeared his Beggar's

Opera, the success of which was not only unprecedented, but almost incredible, It had an uninterrupled run in London of sixty-three nights in the first season, and was renewed in the ensuing one with equal approbation. It spread into all the great towns of England; was played in many places to the thirtieth and forlieth time, and at Bath and Bristol ffiv; made its progress into Wales, Scotland, and Ireland, in which last place it was acted for twenty-four succensive nights, and last of all it was performed at Minorca. Nor was the fame of it confined to the reading and representation alone, for the card-table and the drawing-room shared with the theatre and the closet in this respect; the ladies carried about the favourite songs of it engraven on their fan-mounts, and screers and other pieces of furnia ture were decorated with the same. Miss Fenlon, who acted Polly, though will then perfectly obscure, became all at once the idol of the town; her pictures were engraven, and sold in great numbers ; her life written; books of letters and verses to her published ; and pamphlets made of even her very sayings and jesls; nay, she herself was received to a station, in consequence of which she, before her death, attained the highest rank a limale subjeưl can acquire, being married to the Duke of Bolton. In short, the salire of this piece was so striking, so apparent, and so perfecily adapted to the taste of sil degrees of people, that it even for that season overthrew the Italian oprra, that Dagon of the nobiling and geniry, whicle bind so long seduced them to idolatry, and which Dennis, by the labours and outcries of a whole lite, arid many other writers, hy the force of reason and reflection had in vain endeavoured to drive from the throne ut public taste. Yet the Hercule an exploit did this little piece al onco bring to its completion, and for some time recalled the devotion of the town from an adoration of mere sound and show, to the admiration of, and relish for, true satire and sound understanding. The profils of this piece were so very great, both to the author and Mr. Rich the manager, that it gave rise to a qnibble, which became frequent in the mouths of many, viz. That it had made lich gay, and Gay rich; and we have heard il asserted, that the author's own advantages from it were not less than two thousond pounds. In consequence of this success, Mr. Gay was induced to write a second part in il, which he entitled Polly. But, nwing to the disgust subsisting between liim and the court, together with the missepresentations made of him, as having been the author of some disalleeteil libels and seditious pamphleis, a charge which, however, he warmly disavows in his preface to this opera, a prohibition of it was sent from the Lord Chamberlain, at the very time when every Whing was in readiness for ihe rehearsal of it. This disappointment, however, was far from being a loss the

author; for, as it was asicrwards confessed, even by his very best friends, to be in every respeel infinitely inferior to delete the first part, it is more than probable, that it might have failed of that great success in the representation which Mr.

Cay miglit promise himself from it; whereas the profits arising from the publication of it afterwards in quarto, in con

sequence of a very large subscription, which this appearance of persecution, added to the author's great personal interest OF procured for him, were at least adequate to what could have accrued to him from a moderate run, bad it been repre

sented. He alterwards new wrote The Wise of Bath, which was the last dramatic piece by him that made ils appearance doring his life; his opera of Achilles, the comedy of the Distrest Wife and his farce of The Rehearsal 'at Goatham, being brought on the stage or published after his death. Besides these, Mr. Gay wrote many very valuable pieces in verse ; among whith his Trivia; or, The Art of walking in the Streets of London ; though one of his first poetical attempts, is far from being the least considerable ; but, as among his dramatic works, his Beggar's Opera did et first, and perhaps ever will, stand as an unrivalled masterpiece, so, among his poetical works, lis Fables hold the same rank of estimation: the Jaller having been almost as universally read as the former was represented, and both equally admired. It would therefore be superfluous here to add any thing further to these sell-reared monuments of his farne as a poet. As a man, he appears in have been morally amiable. Bis disposition was sweet and allable, his temper generous, and his conversation agreeable aud entertaining. He had indeed one foible, too frequently incident to men of great literary abilities, and which subjected him at times to inconveniences, which otherwise he needed not to have experienced, viz, an excess of indulence, which prevented him from exerting the full force of his lalenis. He was, however, not in allentive to the means of procuring an independence, in which he would probably have succeeded, had not his spirits been kept down by disappointments. He haci, however, saved several thousand pounds at the time of his death, which happened at the bouse of the Duke and Dutchess of Queensberry in Hurlington Gardens, in December

1932. He was interred in Westminster Abhey, and a monument erected to his memory, at the expense of his afore e tyre mentioned noble benefactors, with an inscription expressive of their regards and his own deserts, and an epitaph in

verse by Mr. Pope; but, as both of them are still in existence, and free of access to every one, it would be inpera tinent to repeat either of them in this place.

By Jo Gay, Acted at Lincoln's Inn fields. The great success of this piece has rendered its merits sufficiently known. It was written in ridicule of the musical Italian drama, was first ofered to Cibber and his brethren an Drary Lane, and by them rejected. of the origin and progress of this new species of composition, Mr. Spencer has given a relation in the words of Pope: “ Dr. Swilt had been observing once lo Mr. Gay, what an odd prelly sort of ibing a Newgate pastoral might make. Gay was inclined to try at such a thing for some time; but afterwards thought it would be better to write a comedy on the same plan. This was what gave rise to 'The Beggar's Opera. He began on it;

As be carried it on, he showed it to both of us, and we now and then gave a correction, or a word or two of advice; but it was wholly of his own writing. When it was done, neither of its thought it would succeed. We showed it to Congreve, who, afier reading it over, said, it would either take greatly, or be damned confoundedly. We were all at the first night of it, in very great uncertainly of the even', till we were very wuch encouraged, by orer hearing the Duke of Argyle, who sat in the next box to us, say, 'I will do ; it must do ; I see it in the eyes of them.' This was a good while before the first act was over, and so gave us ease soon : for that Duke (besides his own good taste) has a particular knack, as any one living, in discovering the taste of the public. He was quite right in this, as usual; the goud-nature of the audience appeared stronger and stronger every act, and ended in a clamuur of applause." Many persons, however, have decried this piece; written, and even preached in the pulpit, against it, from mistaking the ursign of it: which was, not to recommend the characters of highwaymen, pick pockets, and strumpels, as examples to be followed, but to show that The principles and behaviour of many persons in what is called hiig! life were no better than those of highwaymen, thieves, sharpers, and strumpels. Nor can Wicse characters be seductive to persons in low life, when they see that they must all expect to be hunged. 'Tis what we must all come to, says one ni them; and it is a kind of miracle, if they coutique six months in their evil courses, This fellow', suys Peachum, if he were to have these six months, would never come to the gallows with any grace. The women of the town are far from being made desirable objects; since they are all shown to be pickpockels and shoplifiers, as well as ladies of plea-ure, and so treacherous, that even those who seem foodest of Machicall, at the very time they are caressing him, are beckoning behind his back to the thief-laker and constables to lay hold of him. Sir Robert Walpule was frequently the subject of Mr. Gay's satire. The minister however, was not delerred from attending the performance of the poet's Beggar's Opera. Being in the stage boxes at its first representation, a most universal encore attended the following air of Lockit, and all eyes were direeled on the minister at the instant of its being repealed : When you censure the age,

If you mention vice or bribe
Be cautious and sage,

'Tis so pat to all the tribe,
Lest the courtiers offended should be:

That each cries, That was levell d at me! Sir Robert, observing the pointed manner in which the andience applied the last line 10 him, porried the thrust by encoring it with bis single voice ; and thus not only blunted the poetical shaft, but gained a general huzza from tho andience.


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holden to women, than all the professions be

Scene I. --- Peachum's House.

Peachum sitting at a Table, with a large "Tis woman that seduces all mankind;
Book of Accounts before him.

By her we first were taught the wheedling arts;

Her very eyes can cheat; when most she's kind, Through all the employments of life,

She tricks us of our money, with our hearts. Each neighbour abuses bis brother:

For ber, like wolves by night, we roam for prey, Whore and rogue, they call husband and wife : And practise every fraud to bribe her charms; All professions be-rogue one another. For, suits of love, like law, are won by pas, The priest calls the lawyer a cheat;

And beauty must be feed into our arms. The lawyer be-knaves the divine;

Peach. But make baste to Newgate, bor, And the statesman, because he's so great, Thinks his trade is as bonest as mine.

and let my friends know what I intend; fc:

I love to make them easy, one way or another. A lawyer is an honest employment, so is Filch. When a gentleman is long kept in mine. Like me too, he acts in a double ca- suspense, penitence may break his spirit ever pacily, both against rogues, and for them; after. Besides

, certainty gives a man a good for 'tis' but filling, that we should protect air upon his trial, and makes him risk another

, and encourage cheats, since we live by them. without fear or scruple. But I'll away, for Enter Filch.

|'lis a pleasure to be a messenger of comfort to friends in affliction.

(Ed. Filch. Sir, Black Moil has sent word, her

Peach. But it is now high time to look trial comes on in the afternoon, and she hopes about me, for a decent execution against dest you will order matters so as to bring her off. sessions. I hate a lazy rogue, by wbom ose

Peach. Why, as the wench is very active can get nothing till be is hanged. A register and industrious, you may satisfy her that I'll of the gang. [Reading] Crook-finger'd Jack soften the evidence.

-a year and a half in the service - let Filch. Tom Gagę, sir, is found guilty. me see, how much the stock owes to his in

Peach. A lazy dog!' When look him, dustry; -One, two, three, four, five gold the time before ,' I told him what he would watches, and seven silver' ones. A mighty come to, if he did not mend his band. This clean-handed fellow! sixteen snuff-bores, fre is death, without reprieve. I may venture to of them of true gold, six dozen of handkerbook him; [Writes) for Tom Gags, forly chiefs, four silver-hilted swords , balf-a-dozen pounds 2). Let Betty Sly know, that I'll save of shirts, three tie-perriwigs, and a piece of her from transportation, for I can get more broadcloth. Considering these are only the by her staying in Englandi

fruits of his leisure hours, I don't know a Filch. Belly hath brought more goods to prettier fellow; for no man alive hath a more our lock this year, than any five of the gang; engaging presence of mind upon the roadand, in truth, ''lis pity to lose so good a cus- Wat Dreary, alias Brown Will-an irregular tomer. Peach. If none of the gang takes her off), his goods2); I'll try him only for a session

dog; who hath an underband way of disposing of she may, in the common course of business, or two longer, upon his good bebaviour.live a {welvemonth longer. I love to let wo- Harry Puddington - a poor petty-lare men 'scape. A good sportsman always lets rascal, without the least genius!' that fellos, the hen-partridges fly, because the breed of though he were to live these six months, ww the game depends upon them. Besides, here never come to the gallows with any creditthe law allows us no reward: there is nothing Slippery Sam-be goes off the next sessines; to be got by the death of women–except our for the villain hath the impudence to have wives.

views of following his trade as a tailor, whacka Filch. Without dispute, she is a fine wo- he calls an honest employment,- Mat-o the man! 'Twas to her 1 was obliged for my Mint-listed not above a month ago; a pro education.

a bold word, she has mising, sturdy fellow, and diligent in his way, trained up more young fellows to the busi- somewhat too bold and hasly, and may rais ness, than the gaming-table.

good contributions on the public, if he doet Peach. Truly,, Filch, thy, observation is not cut himself short by murder), -T right. We and the surgeons 5) are more be- Tipple-a guzzling, soaking sot, who is a 1) Blood money, as it is called, or the sum paid to any ways too drunk to stand bimself, or to mak

one for the conviction of a person who has commined others stand 5) a cart 4) is absolutely necessary A robbery. Peachum's character has, unfortunately, but too many trails of what is done every day in London. 1) Sells his stolen goods to other people.

2) Get hanged for murdering some person. 3) The bodies of those hanged for caurder, are given ovor 3) The highway-robbers potring a pistol at your heroes to tho surgeons for dissection.

and desiring you to stand, come upon you so sad.com

To say

2) Marries ber.

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for him.-Robin of Bagshot, alias Gorgon, What business bath he to keep company alias Bluff Bob, alias Carbuncle, alias with lords and gentlemen ? he should leave Bob Booty

them to prey upon one another.

Peach. C'pon Polly's account! what a Enter MRS. PEACHUM.

plague doth the woman mean?-Upon Polly's Mrs. P. Whal of Bob Booty, husband? Taccount! bope nothing bad hath betided him. - You Mrs.P. Captain Macheath is very fond of know, my dear, he's a favourite customer of the girl. mine — 'twas be made me a present of this Pcach. And what then? ring

Mrs. P. If I have any skill in the ways of Peach. I have set his name down in the women, I am sure Polly thinks him a very black list, that's all, my dear; he spends his pretty man. life among women, and, as soon as his mo Peach. And what then? you would not be ney is gone, one or other of the ladies will so mad as to have the wench marry him! bang him for the reward, and there's forty Gamesters and highwaymen are, generally, pounds lost to us for ever!

very good to their mistresses, but they are Mrs. P. You know, my dear, I never meddle very devils to their wives. in matters of death; I always leave those af Mrs. P. But if Polly should be in love, bow fairs to you. Women, indeed, are bitter bad should we help her, or bow can she help herjudges in these cases; for they are so partial self?--Poor girl, I'm in the utmost concern to the brave, that they think every man band-about her! some, wbo is going to the camp or the gallows.


If love the virgin's heart invade,
If any wench Venus' girdle wear,

How like a moth, the simple maid
Though she be never so ugly,
Lilies and roses will quickly appear,

Still plays about the flame;

If soon she be not made a wife, And her face look wondrous snugly.

Her honour's sing'd, and then for life Beneath the left ear, so fit for a cord,

She's what I dare not name. A rope so charming a zone is, The youth in the cart hath the air of a lord, in nur way of business, is as profitable as at

Peach. Lookye, wise, a handsome wench, And we cry, There dies an Adonis!

the bar of a Temple coffee-house, who looks But really, husband, you should not be too upon it as her livelihood, to grant every lihard-hearted, for you never had a finer, bra-berty but one. My daughter to me should ver set of men than at present. We bave be like a court lady to a minister of state, a not bad a murder among them all these seven key !o the whole gang. Married! if the afmonths; and truly, my dear, that is a great fair is not already done, I'll terrify her from blessing.

it, by the example of our neighbours. Peach. What a dickens is the woman Mrs. P. Mayhap, my dear, you may injure always wbimpering about murder for? No the poor girl: she loves to imitate the fine gentleman is ever looked upon the worse for ladies, and she may only allow the captain killing a man in his own defence; and if bu- liberties, in the view of interest. siness cannot be carried on without it, what Peach. But 'tis your duty, 'my dear, to would you have a gentleman do? so, my dear, warn the girl against ber ruin, and to instruct have done upon this subject. Was captain ber how to make the most of her beauty. I'll Macbeath here, this morning, for the bank-go to ber this moment, and sift her. In the notes he left with you last week?

mean time, wise, rip out the coronels and Mrs. P. Yes, my dear; and though the marks of these dozen of cambric handkerhank hath stopped payment, he was so cheer-chiefs, for I can dispose of them this afterful, and so agreeable! Sure, there is not a noon to a chap in the city.

[E.rit. finer gentleman upon the road?) than the Mrs. P. Never was a man more out of the captain; if be comes from Bagshot, at any way in an argument than my busband. Why reasonable hour, he bath promised to make must our Polly, forsooth, díffer from her sex, one this evening, with Polly, me, and Bob and love only ber husband? and why must Booty, at a party at quadrille. Pray, my dear, Polly's marriage, contrary to all observation, is the captain rich?

make her the less followed by other men? Peach. The captain keeps too good com- All men are thieves in love, and like a wopany ever to grow rich. Marybone and the man the better for being anotber's property, chocolate-houses are bis undoing. The man

AIR. --MRS. PEACHUM. that proposes to get money by play, should A maid is like the golden ore bave the education of a fine gentleman, and Which halb guineas intrinsical in't, be trained up to it from his youth.

Whose worth is never known before Mrs. P. Really, I am sorry, upon Polly's It is tried and imprest in the mint. account, the captain hath not more discretion. A wife's like a guinea in gold, that is very difficult to obey their snmmons; and la

Stamp'd with the name of her spouse; dies, as well as the weaker part of the male sex, are Now here, now there, is bought or is sold, much more inclined to fall, especially when they order And is current in every house.

you to give your money 4) Formerly, those cast for' death, were conveyed in a

Enler Filcu. cart, all through the streets of London, from Newgate prison to Tyburn; where they were hanged; but now Mrs.P. Come hither, Filch. I am as rond iles are "launched into clernity" before the debtors'door, Newgate.

of this child, as though my mind misgave me 1) A Ilighway-011*

the were my own. He hath as fine a hand

or your "life.

my boy?


cape under


herself away.

at picking a pocket as 'a woman, and is as | But when once plock'd 'tis no longer alluring, nimble-fingered as a juggler. If an unlucky To Covent Garden 'tis sent (as yet sweet), session does not cut the rope of thy life, 1 There fades, and shrinks, and grows past all pronource, boy, thou wilt be a great man in

enduring, history. Where was your post last night, Rots, stinks, and dies, and is trod uader feet

Peach. You know, Polly, I am not against Filch. I plied at the opera, madam; and, considering 'twas neither dark nor rainy, so the way of business, or to get out a secre

! your toying and trisling with a customer, in ibat there was no great hurry, in getting chairs and coaches, made a tolerable band or so; but if I find out that you have played

the fool, and are married, you jade you, Tu on't–These seven handkerchiefs, madam.

Mrs.P. Coloured ones, I see. They are of cut your throat, hussy. Now, you know my sure sale from our warehouse at Redrisl, among the seamen.

Enter Mrs. Peachum, in a very great Passion Filch. And this snuff-box.

Mrs.P. Set in gold! a pretly encourage. Our Polly is a sad slut! nor heeds what we ment this to a young beginner! Filch. I had a fair lug at a charming gold

have taught her, watch. Plague take the tailors, for making I wonder any man alive will ever rear a daughier! the fobs so deep and narrow!-it stuck by For she must bave both boods and gowns

, the way, and I was forced to make my es

and hoops to swell ber pride a coach. Really, madam, I fear With scarfs and stays, and gloves and lace, and I shall be cut off in the flower of my youth,

she will have men beside;

And wben she's dress'd with care and cost, all so that, every now and then, since Í pumped, I have thoughts of taking up and

tempting, fine, and gay, going to sea.

As men should serve a cucumber, she flings Mrs. P. You should go to Hockley-in-thehole ), and to Mary bone, child, to learn va- You baggage! you bussy! you inconsiderate lour; these are the schools that bare bred so jade! bad you been banged it would not hare many brave men. I thought, boy, by this vcred ine; for that might bave been your time, thou badst lost fear as well as shame. rnisfortune; but to do such a mad thing by Poor lad! how little does he know yet of the choice!—The wench is married, husband. Old Bailey! For the first fact, I'll insure thec Peach. Married! the captain is a bold man, from being hanged; and going to sea, Filch, and will risk any thing for money: to be sure will come time enough, upon a sentence of he believes her a fortune. Do you think your transportation. But, hark you, my lad, don't mother and I should bave lived comfortably tell me a lie; for you know I hate a liar:- so long together if ever we had been married, Do you know of any thing that hath passed baggage! between captain Macheath and our Polly? Mrs. P. I knew she was always a proud

Filch. I beg you, madam, don't ask me; slut, and now the wench bath played the forel for I must either tell a lie to you, or to miss and married, because, forsooth, she would do Polly; for I promised her I would not tell. like the gentry! Can you support the es.

Mrs. P. But when the honour of our fami-pense of a búsband, hussy, in gaming and ly is concerned.

drinking?. have you money enough to carry Filch. I shall lead a sad life with miss on the daily quarrels of man and wile about Polly, if ever she comes to know I told you. who shall squander most? If you must be Besides, I would not willingly forfeit my own married, could you introduce nobody into honour, by betraying any body.

our family but a bighwayman? Why, thou Mrs. P. Yonder comes my husband and foolish jade, thou wilt be as ill used and as Polly. Come, Filch, you shall go with me in- much neglected as if thou hadst inarried a

room, and tell me the whole story. lord! MI give

thec a glass of a most delicious cor Peach. Let not your anger, my dear, break dial that I keep for my own drinking. [Exeunt. through the rules of decency; for the captain

Enter PEACHUM and POLLY. looks upon himself, in the military capacity, Polly. I know, as well as any of the fine as a gentleman by his profession. Besides ladies how to make the most of myself, and what he hath already, I know he is in a fau of my man too. A woman knows how to be way of getting or of dying; and both these mercenary, though she hath never been in a ways, let me tell you , are most excellent court or at an assembly. We have it in our chances for a wife. Tell me, hussy, are you nalures, papa. If I allow captain Macheath ruined or no? some trifling liberties, I have ibis watch and Mrs. P. With Polly's fortune she might other visible marks of his favour to show for very well have gone off to a person of diit. A girl who cannot grant some things, and stinction : yes, that you might, you pouting slai refuse what is most material, will make but Pcach. What! is the wench dumb? speal, a poor

band of her beauty, and soon be or I'll make you plead by squecting out as i brown upon the common.

answer from


you really bound will

to him, or are you only upon liking? Virgins are like the fair flow'r in its lustre,

[Pinches her Wbich in the garden enamels the ground;

Polly. Oh!

[Screamins Near it the bees in play butter and cluster, Mrs. P. How we mother is io be pitied And gaudy butterflies frolic around: who hath handsome daughters! Locks, bols, 1) A famous-place for thieves and beggurs,

bars, and lectures of morality, are nolbiog to

to my



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