The Beggar's Opera [20]
will you give me leave to propose a Glass of Cordial to you?
POLLY. Strong-Waters are apt to give me the Headache--I hope, Madam, you will excuse me.
LUCY. Not the greatest Lady in the Land could have better in her Closet, for her own private drinking.--You seem mighty low in Spirits, my Dear.
POLLY. I am sorry, Madam, my Health will not allow me to accept of your Offer.--I should not have left you in the rude manner I did when we met last, Madam, had not my Papa haul'd me away so unexpectedly--I was indeed somewhat provok'd, and perhaps might use some Expressions that were disrespectful.--But really, Madam, the Captain treated me with so much Contempt and Cruelty, that I deserv'd your Pity, rather than your Resentment.
LUCY. But since his Escape, no doubt all Matters are made up again.- -Ah Polly! Polly! 'tis I am the unhappy Wife; and he loves you as if you were only his Mistress.
POLLY. Sure, Madam, you cannot think me so happy as to be the object of your Jealousy.--A Man is always afraid of a Woman who loves him too well--so that I must expect to be neglected and avoided.
LUCY. Then our Cases, my dear Polly, are exactly alike. Both of us indeed have been too fond.
AIR XLVIII. O Bessy Bell.
POLLY. A Curse attend that Woman's Love, Who always would be pleasing. LUCY. The Pertness of the billing Dove, Like Tickling, is but teazing. POLLY. What then in Love can Woman do: LUCY. If we grow fond they shun us. POLLY. And when we fly them, they pursue: LUCY. But leave us when they've won us.
LUCY. Love is so very whimsical in both Sexes, that it is impossible to be lasting.--But my Heart is particular, and contradicts my own Observation.
POLLY. But really, Mistress Lucy, by his last Behaviour, I think I ought to envy you.--When I was forc'd from him, he did not shew the least Tenderness.--But perhaps, he hath a Heart not capable of it.
AIR XLIX. Would Fate to me Belinda give.
Among the Men, Coquettes we find, Who court by turns all Woman-kind; And we grant all their Hearts desir'd, When they are flatter'd, and admir'd.
The Coquettes of both Sexes are Self-lovers, and that is a Love no other whatever can dispossess. I hear, my dear Lucy, our Husband is one of those.
LUCY. Away with these melancholy Reflections,--indeed, my dear Polly, we are both of us a Cup too low--Let me prevail upon you to accept of my Offer.
AIR L. Come, sweet Lass.
Come, sweet Lass, Let's banish Sorrow 'Till To-morrow; Come, sweet Lass, Let's take a chirping Glass. Wine can clear The Vapours of Despair And make us light as Air; Then drink, and banish Care.
I can't bear, Child, to see you in such low Spirits.--And I must persuade you to what I know will do you good. [Aside.] I shall now soon be even with the hypocrytical Strumpet. [Exit.]
POLLY. All this Wheedling of Lucy cannot be for nothing.--At this time too! when I know she hates me!--The Dissembling of a Woman is always the Forerunner of Mischief.--By pouring Strong-Waters down my Throat, she thinks to pump some Secrets out of me,--I'll be upon my Guard, and won't taste a Drop of her Liquor, I'm resolv'd.
[Re-enter Lucy, with Strong-Waters.]
LUCY. Come, Miss Polly.
POLLY. Indeed, Child, you have given yourself trouble to no purpose.--You must, my Dear, excuse me.
LUCY. Really, Miss Polly, you are as squeamishly affected about taking a Cup of Strong-Waters as a Lady before Company. I vow, Polly, I shall take it monstrously ill if you refuse me.--Brandy and Men (though Women love them ever so well) are always taken by us with some Reluctance--unless 'tis in private.
POLLY. I protest, Madam, it goes against me.--What do I see! Macheath again in Custody!--Now every Glimm'ring of Happiness is lost.
[Drops the Glass of Liquor on the Ground.]
LUCY. Since things are thus, I'm glad the Wench hath escap'd: for by this Event, 'tis plain, she was not happy enough to deserve to be poison'd.
[Enter Lockit, Macheath, Peachum.]
LOCKIT. Set your Heart to rest, Captain.--You
POLLY. Strong-Waters are apt to give me the Headache--I hope, Madam, you will excuse me.
LUCY. Not the greatest Lady in the Land could have better in her Closet, for her own private drinking.--You seem mighty low in Spirits, my Dear.
POLLY. I am sorry, Madam, my Health will not allow me to accept of your Offer.--I should not have left you in the rude manner I did when we met last, Madam, had not my Papa haul'd me away so unexpectedly--I was indeed somewhat provok'd, and perhaps might use some Expressions that were disrespectful.--But really, Madam, the Captain treated me with so much Contempt and Cruelty, that I deserv'd your Pity, rather than your Resentment.
LUCY. But since his Escape, no doubt all Matters are made up again.- -Ah Polly! Polly! 'tis I am the unhappy Wife; and he loves you as if you were only his Mistress.
POLLY. Sure, Madam, you cannot think me so happy as to be the object of your Jealousy.--A Man is always afraid of a Woman who loves him too well--so that I must expect to be neglected and avoided.
LUCY. Then our Cases, my dear Polly, are exactly alike. Both of us indeed have been too fond.
AIR XLVIII. O Bessy Bell.
POLLY. A Curse attend that Woman's Love, Who always would be pleasing. LUCY. The Pertness of the billing Dove, Like Tickling, is but teazing. POLLY. What then in Love can Woman do: LUCY. If we grow fond they shun us. POLLY. And when we fly them, they pursue: LUCY. But leave us when they've won us.
LUCY. Love is so very whimsical in both Sexes, that it is impossible to be lasting.--But my Heart is particular, and contradicts my own Observation.
POLLY. But really, Mistress Lucy, by his last Behaviour, I think I ought to envy you.--When I was forc'd from him, he did not shew the least Tenderness.--But perhaps, he hath a Heart not capable of it.
AIR XLIX. Would Fate to me Belinda give.
Among the Men, Coquettes we find, Who court by turns all Woman-kind; And we grant all their Hearts desir'd, When they are flatter'd, and admir'd.
The Coquettes of both Sexes are Self-lovers, and that is a Love no other whatever can dispossess. I hear, my dear Lucy, our Husband is one of those.
LUCY. Away with these melancholy Reflections,--indeed, my dear Polly, we are both of us a Cup too low--Let me prevail upon you to accept of my Offer.
AIR L. Come, sweet Lass.
Come, sweet Lass, Let's banish Sorrow 'Till To-morrow; Come, sweet Lass, Let's take a chirping Glass. Wine can clear The Vapours of Despair And make us light as Air; Then drink, and banish Care.
I can't bear, Child, to see you in such low Spirits.--And I must persuade you to what I know will do you good. [Aside.] I shall now soon be even with the hypocrytical Strumpet. [Exit.]
POLLY. All this Wheedling of Lucy cannot be for nothing.--At this time too! when I know she hates me!--The Dissembling of a Woman is always the Forerunner of Mischief.--By pouring Strong-Waters down my Throat, she thinks to pump some Secrets out of me,--I'll be upon my Guard, and won't taste a Drop of her Liquor, I'm resolv'd.
[Re-enter Lucy, with Strong-Waters.]
LUCY. Come, Miss Polly.
POLLY. Indeed, Child, you have given yourself trouble to no purpose.--You must, my Dear, excuse me.
LUCY. Really, Miss Polly, you are as squeamishly affected about taking a Cup of Strong-Waters as a Lady before Company. I vow, Polly, I shall take it monstrously ill if you refuse me.--Brandy and Men (though Women love them ever so well) are always taken by us with some Reluctance--unless 'tis in private.
POLLY. I protest, Madam, it goes against me.--What do I see! Macheath again in Custody!--Now every Glimm'ring of Happiness is lost.
[Drops the Glass of Liquor on the Ground.]
LUCY. Since things are thus, I'm glad the Wench hath escap'd: for by this Event, 'tis plain, she was not happy enough to deserve to be poison'd.
[Enter Lockit, Macheath, Peachum.]
LOCKIT. Set your Heart to rest, Captain.--You