]
MACHEATH. So, it seems, I am not left to my Choice, but must have a
Wife at last.--Look ye, my Dears, we will have no Controversy now.
Let us give this Day to Mirth, and I am sure she who thinks herself
my Wife will testify her Joy by a Dance.
ALL. Come, a Dance--a Dance.
MACHEATH. Ladies, I hope you will give me leave to present a Partner
to each of you. And (if I may without Offence) for this time, I take
Polly for mine.--And for Life, you Slut,--for we were really
marry'd.--As for the rest.--But at present keep your own Secret. [To
Polly.]
[A DANCE.]
AIR LXVIII. Lumps of Pudding, &c.
Thus I stand like the Turk, with his Doxies around;
From all Sides their Glances his Passion confound;
For Black, Brown, and Fair, his Inconstancy burns,
And the different Beauties subdue him by turns:
Each calls forth her Charms to provoke his Desires:
Though willing to all, with but one he retires.
But think of this Maxim, and put off your Sorrow,
The Wretch of To-day, may be happy To-morrow.
CHORUS.
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