LUCY. If Peachum's Heart is harden'd; sure you, Sir, will have more
Compassion on a Daughter.----I know the Evidence is in your Power.----How
then can you be a Tyrant to me? [Kneeling.
Air LV.--Ianthe the lovely, &c.
When he holds up his Hand arraign'd for his Life,
O think of your Daughter, and think I'm his Wife!
What are Cannons or Bombs, or clashing of Swords?
For Death is more certain by Witnesses Words.
Then nail up their Lips; that dread Thunder allay;
And each Month of my Life will hereafter be May.
LOCKIT. Macheath's Time is come, Lucy----We know our own Affairs,
therefore let us have no more Whimpering or Whining.
Air LVI.--A Cobler there was, &c.
Ourselves, like the Great, to secure a Retreat,
When Matters Require it, must give up our Gang:
And good reason why,
Or, instead of the Fry,
Ev'n Peachum and I.
Like poor petty Rascals, might hang, hang;
Like poor petty Rascals, might hang.
PEACHUM. Set your Heart at rest, Polly.----Your Husband is to die to-day.
----Therefore if you are not already provided, 'tis high time to look about
for another. There's comfort for you, you Slut.
LOCKIT. We are ready, Sir, to conduct you to the Old Baily.
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