_Peachum_. But ’tis now high time to look about me for a decent Execution against next Sessions. I hate a lazy Rogue, by whom one can get nothing ’till he is hang’d. A Register of the Gang, [_Reading_.] Crook-finger’d _Jack_. A Year and a half in the Service; Let me see how much the Stock owes to his industry; one, two, three, four, five Gold Watches, and seven Silver ones. A mighty clean-handed Fellow! Sixteen Snuff-boxes, five of them of true Gold. Six Dozen of Handkerchiefs, four silver-hilted Swords, half a Dozen of Shirts, three Tye-Periwigs, and a Piece of Broad-Cloth. Considering these are only the Fruits of his leisure Hours, I don’t know a prettier Fellow, for no Man alive hath a more engaging Presence of Mind upon the Road. _Wat Dreary_, alias _Brown Will_, an irregular Dog, who hath an underhand way of disposing of his Goods. I’ll try him only for a Sessions or two longer upon his Good-behaviour. _Harry Paddington_, a poor petty-larceny Rascal, without the least Genius; that Fellow, though he were to live these six Months, will never come to the Gallows with any Credit. Slippery _Sam_; he goes off the next Sessions, for the Villain hath the Impudence to have Views of following his Trade as a Tailor, which he calls an honest Employment. _Mat of the Mint_; listed not above a Month ago, a promising sturdy Fellow, and diligent in his way; somewhat too bold and hasty, and may raise good Contributions on the Public, if he does not cut himself short by Murder. _Tom Tipple_, a guzzling soaking Sot, who is always too drunk to stand himself, or to make others stand. A Cart is absolutely necessary for him. _Robin of Bagshot_, alias _Gorgon_, alias _Bluff Bob_, alias _Carbuncle_, alias _Bob Booty_. _Enter_ Mrs. Peachum. _Mrs. Peachum_. What of _Bob Booty_, Husband? I hope nothing bad hath betided him. You know, my Dear, he’s a favourite Customer of mine. ’Twas he made me a present of this Ring. _Peachum_. I have set his Name down in the Black List, that’s all, my Dear; he spends his Life among Women, and as soon as his Money is gone, one or other of the Ladies will hang him for the Reward, and there’s forty Pound lost to us for-ever. _Mrs. Peachum_. You know, my Dear, I never meddle in matters of Death; I always leave those Affairs to you. Women indeed are bitter bad Judges in these cases, for they are so partial to the Brave that they think every Man handsome who is going to the Camp or the Gallows. AIR III. Cold and raw, &c. _If any Wench_ Venus’s _Girdle wear_, _Though she be never so ugly_; _Lilies and Roses will quickly appear_, _And her Face look wond’rous smugly_. _Beneath the left Ear so fit but a Cord_, (_A Rope so charming a Zone is_!) _The Youth in his Cart hath the Air of a Lord_, _And we cry_, _There dies an_ Adonis!