_Macheath_. Business cannot go on without him. He is a Man who knows the World, and is a necessary Agent to us. We have had a slight Difference, and ’till it is accommodated I shall be oblig’d to keep out of his way. Any private Dispute of mine shall be of no ill consequence to my Friends. You must continue to act under his Direction, for the moment we break loose from him, our Gang is ruin’d. _Matt_. As a Bawd to a Whore, I grant you, he is to us of great Convenience. _Macheath_. Make him believe I have quitted the Gang, which I can never do but with Life. At our private Quarters I will continue to meet you. A Week or so will probably reconcile us. _Matt_. Your Instructions shall be observ’d. ’Tis now high time for us to repair to our several Duties; so ’till the Evening at our Quarters in _Moor-Fields_ we bid you farewel. _Macheath_. I shall wish myself with you. Success attend you. [_Sits down melancholy at the Table_. AIR XX. March in _Rinaldo_, with Drums and Trumpets. _Matt_. _Let us take the Road_. _Hark_! _I hear the Sound of Coaches_! _The Hour of Attack approaches_, _To your Arms_, _brave Boys_, _and load_. _See the Ball I hold_! _Let the Chymists toil like Asses_, _Our Fire their Fire surpasses_, _And turns all our Lead to Gold_. [The Gang, rang’d in the Front of the Stage, load their Pistols, and stick them under their Girdles; then go off singing the first Part in Chorus. _Macheath_. What a Fool is a fond Wench! _Polly_ is most confoundedly bit.—I love the Sex. And a Man who loves Money, might as well be contented with one Guinea, as I with one Woman. The Town perhaps have been as much obliged to me, for recruiting it with free-hearted Ladies, as to any Recruiting Officer in the Army. If it were not for us, and the other Gentlemen of the Sword, _Drury-Lane_ would be uninhabited. AIR XXI. Would you have a young Virgin, &c. _If the Heart of a Man is deprest with Cares_, _The Mist is dispell’d when a Woman appears_; _Like the Notes of a Fiddle_, _she sweetly_, _sweetly_ _Raises the Spirits_, _and charms our Ears_, _Roses and Lilies her Cheeks disclose_, _But her ripe Lips are more sweet than those_. _Press her_, _Caress her_, _With Blisses_, _Her Kisses_ _Dissolve us in Pleasure_, _and soft Repose_. I must have Women. There is nothing unbends the Mind like them. Money is not so strong a Cordial for the Time. Drawer—[_Enter Drawer_.] Is the Porter gone for all the Ladies according to my Directions?