_Polly_. All this Wheedling of _Lucy_ cannot be for nothing.—At this time too! when I know she hates me!—The Dissembling of a Woman is always the Forerunner of Mischief.—By pouring Strong-Waters down my Throat, she thinks to pump some Secrets out of me,—I’ll be upon my Guard, and won’t taste a Drop of her Liquor, I’m resolv’d. _Re-enter_ Lucy, _with Strong-Waters_. _Lucy_. Come, Miss _Polly_. _Polly_. Indeed, Child, you have given yourself trouble to no purpose.—You must, my Dear, excuse me. _Lucy_. Really, Miss _Polly_, you are as squeamishly affected about taking a Cup of Strong-Waters as a Lady before Company. I vow, _Polly_, I shall take it monstrously ill if you refuse me.—Brandy and Men (though Women love them ever so well) are always taken by us with some Reluctance—unless ’tis in private. _Polly_. I protest, Madam, it goes against me.—What do I see! _Macheath_ again in Custody!—Now every Glimm’ring of Happiness is lost. [_Drops the Glass of Liquor on the Ground_. _Lucy_. Since things are thus, I’m glad the Wench hath escap’d: for by this Event, ’tis plain, she was not happy enough to deserve to be poison’d. _Enter_ Lockit, Macheath, Peachum. _Lockit_. Set your Heart to rest, Captain.—You have neither the Chance of Love or Money for another Escape,—for you are order’d to be call’d down upon your Trial immediately. _Peachum_. Away, Hussies!—This is not a Time for a Man to be hamper’d with his Wives.—You see, the Gentleman is in Chains already. _Lucy_. O Husband, Husband, my Heart long’d to see thee; but to see thee thus distracts me? _Polly_. Will not my dear Husband look upon his _Polly_? Why hadst thou not flown to me for Protection? with me thou hadst been safe. AIR LI. The last time I went o’er the Moor. Polly. _Hither_, _dear Husband_, _turn your Eyes_. Lucy. _Bestow one Glance to cheer me_. Polly. _Think with that Look_, _thy_ Polly _dies_. Lucy. _O shun me not_—_but hear me_. Polly. _’Tis Polly sues_. Lucy. —_’Tis Lucy speaks_. Polly. _Is thus true Love requited_? Lucy. _My Heart is bursting_. Polly. —_Mine too breaks_. Lucy. _Must I_ Polly. —_Must I be slighted_? _Macheath_. What would you have me say, Ladies?—You see this affair will soon be at an end, without my disobliging either of you. _Peachum_. But the settling this Point, Captain, might prevent a Law-Suit between your two Widows. AIR LII. _Tom Tinker’s_ my true Love.