AIR XXXIV. Have you heard of a frolicksome Ditty, &c.
MACHEATH. How happy could I be with either,
Were t'other dear Charmer away!
But while you thus teaze me together,
To neither a Word will I say;
But tol de rol, &c.
POLLY. Sure, my Dear, there ought to be some Preference shewn to a
Wife! At least she may claim the Appearance of it. He must be
distracted with his Misfortunes, or he could not use me thus.
LUCY. O Villain, Villain! thou hast deceiv'd me--I could even inform
against thee with Pleasure. Not a Prude wishes more heartily to have
Facts against her intimate Acquaintance, than I now wish to have
Facts against thee. I would have her Satisfaction, and they should
all out.
AIR XXXV. Irish Trot.
POLLY. I am bubbled.
LUCY. . . . I'm bubbled.
POLLY. O how I am troubled!
LUCY. Bambouzled, and bit!
POLLY. . . . My Distresses are doubled.
LUCY. When you come to the Tree, should the Hangman refuse,
These Fingers, with Pleasure, could fasten the Noose.
POLLY. I'm bubbled, &c.
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