e charming Mistresses, but plaguy Wives-- _Betty Doxy!_
Come hither, Hussy. Do you drink as hard as ever? You had better stick
to good wholesom Beer; for in troth, _Betty_, Strong-Waters will in time
ruin your Constitution. You should leave those to your Betters. --What!
and my pretty _Jenny Diver_ too! As prim and demure as ever! There is
not any Prude, though ever so high bred, hath a more sanctify'd Look,
with a more mischievous Heart. Ah! thou art a dear artful Hypocrite.
--Mrs. _Slammekin!_ as careless and genteel as ever! all you fine
Ladies, who know your own Beauty, affect an Undress. --But see, here's
_Suky Tawdry_ come to contradict what I was saying. Every thing she gets
one way she lays out upon her Back. Why, _Suky_, you must keep at least
a Dozen Tallymen. _Molly Brazen!_ [She kisses him.] That's well done.
I love a free-hearted Wench. Thou hast a most agreeable Assurance, Girl,
and art as willing as a Turtle. --But hark! I hear Music. The Harper is
at the Door. _If Music be the Food of Love, play on._ Ere you seat
yourselves, Ladies, what think you of a Dance? Come in. [Enter Harper.]
Play the _French_ Tune, that Mrs. _Slammekin_ was so fond of.

[A Dance _a la ronde_ in the _French_ manner; near the end of it
this song and Chorus.

AIR XXII. Cotillon.

[Music]

Youth's the Season made for Joys,
Love is then our Duty,
She alone who that employs,
Well deserves her Beauty.
Let's be gay,
While we may,
Beauty's a Flower, despis'd in Decay.
Youth's the Season, &c.

Let us drink and sport to-day,
Ours is not to-morrow.
Love with Youth flies swift away,
Age is nought but Sorrow.
Dance and sing,
Time's on the Wing.
Life never knows the Return of Spring.

_Chorus._ Let us drink, &c.

_Macheath._ Now, pray Ladies, take your Places. Here Fellow. [Pays the
Harper.] Bid the Drawer bring us more Wine. [Exit Harper.] If any of the
Ladies choose Ginn, I hope they will be so free to call for it.

_Jenny._ You look as if you meant me. Wine is strong enough for me.
Indeed, Sir, I never drink Strong-Waters, but when I have the Cholic.

_Macheath._ Just the Excuse of the fine Ladies! Why, a Lady of Quality
is never without the Cholic. I hope, Mrs. _Coaxer_, you have had good
Success of late in your Visits among the Mercers.

_Mrs. Coaxer._ We have so many Interlopers-- Yet with Industry, one may
still have a little P