But, when once pluck'd, 'tis no longer alluring,
To Covent-Garden 'tis sent (as yet sweet),
There fades, and shrinks, and grows past all enduring
Rots, stinks, and dies, and is trod under feet.
PEACHUM. You know, Polly, I am not against your toying and trifling with
a Customer in the way of Business, or to get out a Secret, or so. But if I
find out that you have play'd the Fool and are married, you Jade you, I'll
cut your Throat, Hussy. Now you know my Mind.
Scene 8.
PEACHUM, POLLY, MRS. PEACHUM.
Air VII.--Oh London is a fine Town.
MRS. PEACHUM, in a very great Passion.
Our Polly is a sad Slut! nor heeds what we have taught her.
I wonder any Man alive will ever rear a Daughter!
For she must have both Hoods and Gowns, and Hoops to swell her Pride,
With Scarfs and Stays, and Gloves and Lace; and she will have Men beside;
And when she's drest with Care and Cost, all tempting, fine and gay,
As Men should serve a Cowcumber, she flings herself away.
Our Polly is a sad slut, &c.
You Baggage! you Hussy! you inconsiderate Jade! had you been hang'd, it
would not have vex'd me, for that might have been your Misfortune; but to
do such a mad thing by Choice! The Wench is married, Husband.
PEACHUM. Married! the Captain is a bold Man, and will risk anything for
Money; to be sure he believes her a Fortune.
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