Enter Mrs. _Coaxer_, _Dolly Trull_, Mrs. _Vixen_, _Betty Doxy_, _Jenny Diver_, Mrs. _Slammekin_, _Suky Tawdry_, and _Molly Brazen_. _Macheath._ Dear Mrs. _Coaxer_, you are welcome. You look charmingly to-day. I hope you don't want the Repairs of Quality, and lay on Paint. --_Dolly Trull!_ kiss me, you Slut; are you as amorous as ever, Hussy? You are always so taken up with stealing Hearts, that you don't allow yourself Time to steal any thing else. --Ah _Dolly_, thou wilt ever be a Coquette! Mrs. _Vixen_, I'm yours, I always lov'd a Woman of Wit and Spirit; they make charming Mistresses, but plaguy Wives-- _Betty Doxy!_ Come hither, Hussy. Do you drink as hard as ever? You had better stick to good wholesom Beer; for in troth, _Betty_, Strong-Waters will in time ruin your Constitution. You should leave those to your Betters. --What! and my pretty _Jenny Diver_ too! As prim and demure as ever! There is not any Prude, though ever so high bred, hath a more sanctify'd Look, with a more mischievous Heart. Ah! thou art a dear artful Hypocrite. --Mrs. _Slammekin!_ as careless and genteel as ever! all you fine Ladies, who know your own Beauty, affect an Undress. --But see, here's _Suky Tawdry_ come to contradict what I was saying. Every thing she gets one way she lays out upon her Back. Why, _Suky_, you must keep at least a Dozen Tallymen. _Molly Brazen!_ [She kisses him.] That's well done. I love a free-hearted Wench. Thou hast a most agreeable Assurance, Girl, and art as willing as a Turtle. --But hark! I hear Music. The Harper is at the Door. _If Music be the Food of Love, play on._ Ere you seat yourselves, Ladies, what think you of a Dance? Come in. [Enter Harper.] Play the _French_ Tune, that Mrs. _Slammekin_ was so fond of. [A Dance _a la ronde_ in the _French_ manner; near the end of it this song and Chorus. AIR XXII. Cotillon. [Music] Youth's the Season made for Joys, Love is then our Duty, She alone who that employs, Well deserves her Beauty. Let's be gay, While we may, Beauty's a Flower, despis'd in Decay. Youth's the Season, &c. Let us drink and sport to-day, Ours is not to-morrow. Love with Youth flies swift away, Age is nought but Sorrow. Dance and sing, Time's on the Wing. Life never knows the Return of Spring. _Chorus._ Let us drink, &c. _Macheath._ Now, pray Ladies, take your Places. Here Fellow. [Pays the Harper.] Bid the Drawer bring us more Wine. [Exit Harper.] If any of the Ladies choose Ginn, I hope they will be so free to call for it. _Jenny._ You look as if you meant me. Wine is strong enough for me. Indeed, Sir, I never drink Strong-Waters, but when I have the Cholic. _Macheath._ Just the Excuse of the fine Ladies! Why, a Lady of Quality is never without the Cholic. I hope, Mrs. _Coaxer_, you have had good Success of late in your Visits among the Mercers.