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.
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