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 oblig'd 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 XXXVIII.--Good-morrow, Gossip Joan.
LUCY. Why how now, Madam Flirt?
If you thus must chatter;
And are for flinging Dirt,
Let's see 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.
Scene 14.
LUCY, MACHEATH, POLLY, 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.
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