--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.
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