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.
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