_Peachum_. What is the Wench dumb? Speak, or I’ll make you plead by squeezing out an Answer from you. Are you really bound Wife to him, or are you only upon liking? [_Pinches her_.] _Polly_. Oh! [_Screaming_.] _Mrs. Peachum_. How the Mother is to be pitied who hath handsom Daughters! Locks, Bolts, Bars, and Lectures of Morality are nothing to them: They break through them all. They have as much Pleasure in cheating a Father and Mother, as in cheating at Cards. _Peachum_. Why, _Polly_, I shall soon know if you are married, by _Macheath’s_ keeping from our House. AIR VIII. Grim King of the Ghosts, &c. Polly. _Can Love be control’d by Advice_? _Will_ Cupid _our Mothers obey_? _Though my Heart were as frozen as Ice_, _At his Flame ’twould have melted away_. _When he kist me so closely he prest_, _’Twas so sweet that I must have comply’d_: _So I thought it both safest and best_ _To marry_, _for fear you should chide_. _Mrs. Peachum_. Then all the Hopes of our Family are gone for ever and ever! _Peachum_. And _Macheath_ may hang his Father and Mother-in-law, in hope to get into their Daughter’s Fortune. _Polly_. I did not marry him (as ’tis the Fashion) coolly and deliberately for Honour or Money. But, I love him. _Mrs. Peachum_. Love him! worse and worse! I thought the Girl had been better bred. Oh Husband, Husband! her Folly makes me mad! my Head swims! I’m distracted! I can’t support myself—Oh! [_Faints_. _Peachum_. See, Wench, to what a Condition you have reduc’d your poor Mother! a Glass of Cordial, this instant. How the poor Woman takes it to heart! [Polly_ goes out_, _and returns with it_. Ah, Hussy, now this is the only Comfort your Mother has left! _Polly_. Give her another Glass, Sir! my Mama drinks double the Quantity whenever she is out of Order. This, you see, fetches her. _Mrs. Peachum_. The Girl shews such a Readiness, and so much Concern, that I could almost find in my Heart to forgive her. AIR IX. O _Jenny_, O _Jenny_, where hast thou been. _O_ Polly, _you might have toy’d and kist_. _By keeping Men off_, _you keep them on_. Polly. _But he so teaz’d me_, _And he so pleas’d me_, _What I did_, _you must have done_. _Mrs. Peachum_. Not with a Highwayman.—You sorry Slut! _Peachum_. A Word with you, Wife. ’Tis no new thing for a Wench to take Man without Consent of Parents. You know ’tis the Frailty of Women, my Dear.