The Lawyers are bitter Enemies to those in our Way. They don't care that
any body should get a clandestine Livelihood but themselves.
Scene 10.
MRS. PEACHUM, PEACHUM, POLLY.
POLLY. 'Twas only Nimming Ned. He brought in a Damask Window-Curtain, a
Hoop-Petticoat, a pair of Silver Candlesticks, and one Silk Stocking, from
the Fire that happen'd last Night.
PEACHUM. There is not a Fellow that is cleverer in his way, and saves
more Goods out of the Fire than Ned. But now, Polly, to your Affair; for
Matters must be left as they are. You are married, then, it seems?
POLLY. Yes, Sir.
PEACHUM. And how do you propose to live, Child?
POLLY. Like other Women, Sir, upon the Industry of my Husband.
MRS. PEACHUM. What, is the Wench turn'd Fool? A Highwayman's Wife, like a
Soldier's, hath as little of his Pay, as of his Company.
PEACHUM. And had not you the common Views of a Gentlewoman in your
Marriage, Polly?
POLLY. I don't know what you mean, Sir.
PEACHUM. Of a Jointure, and of being a Widow.
POLLY. But I love him, Sir; how then could I have Thoughts of parting
with him?
PEACHUM. Parting with him! Why, this is the whole Scheme and Intention of
all Marriage Articles. The comfortable Estate of Widow-hood, is the only
Hope that keeps up a Wife's Spirits. Where is the Woman who would scruple
to be a Wife, if she had it in her Power to be a Widow, whenever she
pleas'd? If you have any Views of this sort, Polly, I shall think the Match
not so very unreasonable.
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