mpudence to have Views
of following his Trade as a Tailor, which he calls an honest Employment.
_Mat of the Mint_; listed not above a Month ago, a promising sturdy
Fellow, and diligent in his way; somewhat too bold and hasty, and may
raise good Contributions on the Public, if he does not cut himself short
by Murder. _Tom Tipple_, a guzzling soaking Sot, who is always too drunk
to stand himself, or to make others stand. A Cart is absolutely
necessary for him. _Robin of Bagshot_, alias _Gorgon_, alias _Bluff
Bob_, alias _Carbuncle_, alias _Bob Booty_.

Enter _Mrs. Peachum_.

_Mrs. Peachum._ What of _Bob Booty_, Husband? I hope nothing bad hath
betided him. You know, my Dear, he's a favourite Customer of mine. 'Twas
he made me a present of this Ring.

_Peachum._ I have set his Name down in the Black List, that's all, my
Dear; he spends his Life among Women, and as soon as his Money is gone,
one or other of the Ladies will hang him for the Reward, and there's
forty Pound lost to us for-ever.

_Mrs. Peachum._ You know, my Dear, I never meddle in matters of Death;
I always leave those Affairs to you. Women indeed are bitter bad Judges
in these cases, for they are so partial to the Brave that they think
every Man handsome who is going to the Camp or the Gallows.

AIR III. Cold and raw, &c.

[Music]

If any Wench _Venus's_ Girdle wear,
Though she be never so ugly;
Lilies and Roses will quickly appear,
And her Face look wond'rous smugly.
Beneath the left Ear so fit but a Cord,
(A Rope so charming a Zone is!)
The Youth in his Cart hath the Air of a Lord,
And we cry, There dies an _Adonis_!

But really, Husband, you should not be too hard-hearted, for you never
had a finer, braver set of Men than at present. We have not had a Murder
among them all, these seven Months. And truly, my Dear, that is a great
Blessing.

_Peachum._ What a dickens is the Woman always a whimpring about Murder
for? No Gentleman is ever look'd upon the worse for killing a Man in his
own Defence; and if Business cannot be carried on without it, what would
you have a Gentleman do?

_Mrs. Peachum._ If I am in the wrong, my Dear, you must excuse me, for
no body can help the Frailty of an over-scrupulous Conscience.

_Peachum._ Murder is as fashionable a Crime as a Man can be guilty of.
How many fine Gentlemen have we in _Newgate_ every Year, purely upon
that Article! If they have wherewithal to persuade the Jury to br