_Peachum_. Mr. _Lockit_ and I have a little Business with the Captain;—You understand me—and we will satisfy you for Mrs. _Coaxer’s_ Debt. _Lockit_. Depend upon it—we will deal like Men of Honour. _Mrs. Trapes_. I don’t enquire after your Affairs—so whatever happens, I wash my Hands on’t—It hath always been my Maxim, that one Friend should assist another—But if you please—I’ll take one of the Scarfs home with me. ’Tis always good to have something in Hand. SCENE IV. _Newgate_. _Lucy_. Jealousy, Rage, Love and Fear are at once tearing me to pieces, How I am weather-beaten and shatter’d with Distresses! AIR XLVI. One Evening, having lost my Way, &c. _I’m like a Skiff on the Ocean tost_, _Now high_, _now low_, _with each Billow born_, _With her Rudder broke_, _and her Anchor lost_, _Deserted and all forlorn_. _While thus I lie rolling and tossing all Night_, _That Polly lies sporting on Seas of Delight_! _Revenge_, _Revenge_, _Revenge_, _Shall appease my restless Spirit_. I have the Rats-bane ready.—I run no Risque; for I can lay her Death upon the Ginn, and so many die of that naturally that I shall never be call’d in question.—But say, I were to be hang’d.—I never could be hang’d for any thing that would give me greater Comfort, than the poisoning that Slut. _Enter_ Filch. _Filch_. Madam, here’s Miss _Polly_ come to wait upon you. _Lucy_. Show her in. _Enter_ Polly. Dear Madam, your Servant.—I hope you will pardon my Passion, when I was so happy to see you last.—I was so over-run with the Spleen, that I was perfectly out of myself. And really when one hath the Spleen, every thing is to be excus’d by a Friend. AIR XLVII. Now _Roger_, I’ll tell thee because thou ’rt my Son. _When a Wife’s in her Pout_, (_As she’s sometimes_, _no doubt_;) _The good Husband as meek as a Lamb_, _Her Vapours to still_, _First grants her her Will_, _And the quieting Draught is a Dram_. _Poor Man_! _And the quieting Draught is a Dram_. —I wish all our Quarrels might have so comfortable a Reconciliation. _Polly_. I have no Excuse for my own Behaviour, Madam, but my Misfortunes.—And really, Madam, I suffer too upon your Account. _Lucy_. But, Miss _Polly_—in the way of Friendship, will you give me leave to propose a Glass of Cordial to you? _Polly_. Strong-Waters are apt to give me the Head-ache—I hope, Madam, you will excuse me. _Lucy_. Not the greatest Lady in the Land could have better in her Closet, for her own private drinking.—You seem mighty low in Spirits, my Dear.