_Peachum_. Look ye, Wife. A handsome Wench in our way of Business is as profitable as at the Bar of a _Temple_ Coffee-House, who looks upon it as her livelihood to grant every Liberty but one. You see I would indulge the Girl as far as prudently we can. In any thing, but Marriage! After that, my Dear, how shall we be safe? Are we not then in her Husband’s Power? For a Husband hath the absolute Power over all a Wife’s Secrets but her own. If the Girl had the Discretion of a Court-Lady, who can have a Dozen young Fellows at her Ear without complying with one, I should not matter it; but _Polly_ is Tinder, and a Spark will at once set her on a Flame. Married! If the Wench does not know her own Profit, sure she knows her own Pleasure better than to make herself a Property! My Daughter to me should be, like a Court-Lady to a Minister of State, a Key to the whole Gang. Married! If the Affair is not already done, I’ll terrify her from it, by the Example of our Neighbours. _Mrs. Peachum_. May-hap, my Dear, you may injure the Girl. She loves to imitate the fine Ladies, and she may only allow the Captain Liberties in the view of Interest. _Peachum_. But ’tis your Duty, my Dear, to warn the Girl against her Ruin, and to instruct her how to make the most of her Beauty. I’ll go to her this moment, and sift her. In the meantime, Wife, rip out the Coronets and Marks of these Dozen of Cambric Handkerchiefs, for I can dispose of them this Afternoon to a Chap in the City. [_Exit_ Peachum. _Mrs. Peachum_. Never was a Man more out of the way in an Argument than my Husband! Why must our _Polly_, forsooth, differ from her Sex, and love only her Husband? And why must _Polly’s_ Marriage, contrary to all Observations, make her the less followed by other Men? All Men are Thieves in Love, and like a Woman the better for being another’s Property. AIR V. Of all the simple Things we do, &c. _A Maid is like the Golden Ore_, _Which hath Guineas intrinsical in’t_, _Whose Worth is never known before_ _It is try’d and imprest in the Mint_. _A Wife’s like a Guinea in Gold_, _Stampt with the Name of her Spouse_; _Now here_, _now there_; _is bought_, _or is sold_; _And is current in every House_. [_Enter_ Filch. _Mrs. Peachum_. Come hither, _Filch_. I am as fond of this Child, as though my Mind misgave me he were my own. He hath as fine a Hand at picking a Pocket as a Woman, and is as nimble-finger’d as a Juggler. If an unlucky Session does not cut the Rope of thy Life, I pronounce, Boy, thou wilt be a great Man in History. Where was your Post last Night, my Boy? _Filch_. I ply’d at the Opera, Madam; and considering ’twas neither dark nor rainy, so that there was no great Hurry in getting Chairs and Coaches, made a tolerable Hand on’t. These seven Handkerchiefs, Madam.