the Credit of being thought my Widow--
Really, _Polly_, this is no time for a Dispute of this sort; for
whenever you are talking of Marriage, I am thinking of Hanging.

_Polly._ And hast thou the Heart to persist in disowning me?

_Macheath._ And hast thou the Heart to persist in persuading me that I
am married? Why, _Polly_, dost thou seek to aggravate my Misfortunes?

_Lucy._ Really, Miss _Peachum_, you but expose yourself. Besides, 'tis
barbarous in you to worry a Gentleman in his Circumstances.

AIR XXXVI.

[Music]

_Polly._ Cease your Funning;
Force or Cunning
Never shall my Heart trapan.
All these Sallies
Are but Malice
To seduce my constant Man.
'Tis most certain,
By their flirting
Women oft' have Envy shown.
Pleas'd, to ruin
Others wooing;
Never happy in their own.

_Polly._ Decency, Madam, methinks might teach you to behave yourself
with some Reserve with the Husband, while his Wife is present.

_Macheath._ But seriously, _Polly_, this is carrying the Joke a little
too far.

_Lucy._ If you are determin'd, Madam, to raise a Disturbance in the
Prison, I shall be obliged to send for the Turnkey to shew you the Door.
I am sorry, Madam, you force me to be so ill-bred.

_Polly._ Give me leave to tell you, Madam: These forward Airs don't
become you in the least, Madam. And my Duty, Madam, obliges me to stay
with my Husband, Madam.

AIR XXXVII. Good-morrow, Gossip _Joan_.

[Music]

_Lucy._ Why how now, Madam _Flirt_?
If you thus must chatter;
And are for flinging Dirt,
Let's try who best can spatter;
Madam _Flirt_.

_Polly._ Why how now, saucy Jade;
Sure the Wench is tipsy!
How can you see me made [To him.
The Scoff of such a Gipsy?
Saucy Jade! [To her.

Enter _Peachum_.

_Peachum._ Where's my Wench? Ah Hussy! Hussy! --Come you home, you Slut;
and when your Fellow is hang'd, hang yourself, to make your Family some
Amends.

_Polly._ Dear, dear Father, do not tear me from him-- I must speak;
I have more to say to him-- Oh! twist thy Fetters about me, that he may
not haul me from thee!

_Peachum._ Sure all Women are alike! If ever they commit the Folly, they
are sure to commit another by exposing themselves-- Away-- Not a Word
more-- You are my Prisoner, now, Hussy.

AIR XXXVIII. _Irish_ Howl.

[Music]

_Polly._ No Power on Earth can e'er divide
The Knot that sacred Love hath ty'd.
Wh