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.
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