Those that act otherwise are their own Bubbles.
LUCY. But Love, Sir, is a Misfortune that may happen to the most
discreet Women, and in Love we are all Fools alike--Notwithstanding
all he swore, I am now fully convinc'd that Polly Peachum is actually
his Wife.--Did I let him escape, (Fool that I was!) to go to her?--
Polly will wheedle herself into his Money, and then Peachum will hang
him, and cheat us both.
LOCKIT. So I am to be ruin'd, because, forsooth, you must be in
Love!--a very pretty Excuse!
LUCY. I could murder that impudent happy Strumpet: --I gave him his
Life, and that Creature enjoys the Sweets of it.--Ungrateful
Macheath!
AIR XLI. South-Sea Ballad.
My Love is all Madness and Folly,
Alone I lie,
Toss, tumble, and cry,
What a happy Creature is Polly!
Was e'er such a Wretch as I!
With rage I redden like Scarlet,
That my dear inconstant Varlet,
Stark blind to my Charms,
Is lost in the Arms
Of that Jilt, that inveigling Harlot!
Stark blind to my Charms,
Is lost in the Arms
Of that Jilt, that inveigling Harlot!
This, this my Resentment alarms.
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