The Beggar's Opera [12]
hath passed between us?--See here, perfidious Wretch, how I am forc'd to bear about the Load of Infamy you have laid upon me--O Macheath! thou hast robb'd me of my Quiet--to see thee tortur'd would give me Pleasure.
AIR XXVI. A lovely Lass to a Friar came, &c.
Thus when a good Housewife sees a Rat In her Trap in the Morning taken, With Pleasure her Heart goes pit-a-pat, In Revenge for her Loss of Bacon. Then she throws him To the Dog or Cat, To be worried, crush'd and shaken.
MACHEATH. Have you no Bowels, no Tenderness, my dear Lucy, to see a Husband in these Circumstances?
LUCY. A Husband!
MACHEATH. In ev'ry Respect but the Form, and that, my Dear, may be said over us at any time.--Friends should not insist upon Ceremonies. From a Man of Honour, his Word is as good as his Bond.
LUCY. 'Tis the Pleasure of all you fine Men to insult the Women you have ruin'd.
AIR XXVII. 'Twas when the Sea was roaring, &c.
How cruel are the Traitors, Who lye and swear in jest, To cheat unguarded Creatures Of Virtue, Fame, and Rest! Whoever steals a Shilling, Through Shame the Guilt conceals: In Love the perjur'd Villain With Boasts the Theft reveals.
MACHEATH. The very first Opportunity, my Dear, (have but Patience) you shall be my Wife in whatever manner you please.
LUCY. Insinuating Monster! And so you think I know nothing of the Affair of Miss Polly Peachum.--I could tear thy Eyes out!
MACHEATH. Sure, Lucy, you can't be such a Fool as to be jealous of Polly!
LUCY. Are you not married to her, you Brute, you.
MACHEATH. Married! Very good. The Wench gives it out only to vex thee, and to ruin me in thy good opinion. 'Tis true, I go to the House; I chat with the Girl, I kiss her, I say a thousand things to her (as all Gentlemen do) that mean nothing, to divert myself; and now the silly Jade hath set it about that I am married to her, to let me know what she would be at. Indeed, my dear Lucy, these violent Passions may be of ill consequence to a Woman in your Condition.
LUCY. Come, come, Captain, for all your Assurance, you know that Miss Polly hath put it out of your Power to do me the Justice you promis'd me.
MACHEATH. A jealous Woman believes every thing her Passion suggests. To convince you of my Sincerity, if we can find the Ordinary, I shall have no Scruples of making you my Wife; and I know the Consequence of having two at a time.
LUCY. That you are only to be hang'd, and so get rid of them both.
MACHEATH. I am ready, my dear Lucy, to give you Satisfaction--if you think there is any in Marriage.--What can a Man of Honour say more?
LUCY. So then, it seems, you are not married to Miss Polly.
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.
PEACHUM. We shall never fall out about an Execution--But as to that Article, pray how stands our last Year's Account?
LOCKIT. If you will run your Eye over it, you'll find 'tis fair and clearly stated.
PEACHUM. This long Arrear of the Government is very hard upon us! Can it be expected that we would hang
AIR XXVI. A lovely Lass to a Friar came, &c.
Thus when a good Housewife sees a Rat In her Trap in the Morning taken, With Pleasure her Heart goes pit-a-pat, In Revenge for her Loss of Bacon. Then she throws him To the Dog or Cat, To be worried, crush'd and shaken.
MACHEATH. Have you no Bowels, no Tenderness, my dear Lucy, to see a Husband in these Circumstances?
LUCY. A Husband!
MACHEATH. In ev'ry Respect but the Form, and that, my Dear, may be said over us at any time.--Friends should not insist upon Ceremonies. From a Man of Honour, his Word is as good as his Bond.
LUCY. 'Tis the Pleasure of all you fine Men to insult the Women you have ruin'd.
AIR XXVII. 'Twas when the Sea was roaring, &c.
How cruel are the Traitors, Who lye and swear in jest, To cheat unguarded Creatures Of Virtue, Fame, and Rest! Whoever steals a Shilling, Through Shame the Guilt conceals: In Love the perjur'd Villain With Boasts the Theft reveals.
MACHEATH. The very first Opportunity, my Dear, (have but Patience) you shall be my Wife in whatever manner you please.
LUCY. Insinuating Monster! And so you think I know nothing of the Affair of Miss Polly Peachum.--I could tear thy Eyes out!
MACHEATH. Sure, Lucy, you can't be such a Fool as to be jealous of Polly!
LUCY. Are you not married to her, you Brute, you.
MACHEATH. Married! Very good. The Wench gives it out only to vex thee, and to ruin me in thy good opinion. 'Tis true, I go to the House; I chat with the Girl, I kiss her, I say a thousand things to her (as all Gentlemen do) that mean nothing, to divert myself; and now the silly Jade hath set it about that I am married to her, to let me know what she would be at. Indeed, my dear Lucy, these violent Passions may be of ill consequence to a Woman in your Condition.
LUCY. Come, come, Captain, for all your Assurance, you know that Miss Polly hath put it out of your Power to do me the Justice you promis'd me.
MACHEATH. A jealous Woman believes every thing her Passion suggests. To convince you of my Sincerity, if we can find the Ordinary, I shall have no Scruples of making you my Wife; and I know the Consequence of having two at a time.
LUCY. That you are only to be hang'd, and so get rid of them both.
MACHEATH. I am ready, my dear Lucy, to give you Satisfaction--if you think there is any in Marriage.--What can a Man of Honour say more?
LUCY. So then, it seems, you are not married to Miss Polly.
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.
PEACHUM. We shall never fall out about an Execution--But as to that Article, pray how stands our last Year's Account?
LOCKIT. If you will run your Eye over it, you'll find 'tis fair and clearly stated.
PEACHUM. This long Arrear of the Government is very hard upon us! Can it be expected that we would hang