_Lucy._ My Tears might answer that Question. _Lockit._ You have then been whimpering and fondling, like a Spaniel, over the Fellow that hath abus'd you. _Lucy._ One can't help Love; one can't cure it. 'Tis not in my Power to obey you, and hate him. _Lockit._ Learn to bear your Husband's Death like a reasonable Woman. 'Tis not the fashion, now-a-days, so much as to affect Sorrow upon these Occasions. No Woman would ever marry, if she had not the Chance of Mortality for a Release. Act like a Woman of Spirit, Hussy, and thank your Father for what he is doing. AIR XXX. Of a noble Race was _Shenkin_. [Music] _Lucy._ Is then his Fate decreed, Sir? Such a Man can I think of quitting? When first we met, so moves me yet, O see how my Heart is splitting! _Lockit._ Look ye, _Lucy_-- There is no saving him. --So, I think, you must ev'n do like other Widows-- buy yourself Weeds, and be chearful. AIR XXXI. [Music] You'll think ere many Days ensue This Sentence not severe; I hang your Husband, Child, 'tis true, But with him hang your Care. Twang dang dillo dee. Like a good Wife, go moan over your dying Husband. That, Child is your Duty-- Consider, Girl, you can't have the Man and the Money too-- so make yourself as easy as you can, by getting all you can from him. [Exit _Lockit_. Enter _Macheath_. _Lucy._ Though the Ordinary was out of the way to-day, I hope, my Dear, you will, upon the first Opportunity, quiet my Scruples-- Oh Sir! --my Father's hard heart is not to be soften'd, and I am in the utmost Despair. _Macheath._ But if I could raise a small Sum-- Would not twenty Guineas, think you, move him? --Of all the Arguments in the way of Business, the Perquisite is the most prevailing-- Your Father's Perquisites for the Escape of Prisoners must amount to a considerable Sum in the Year. Money well tim'd, and properly apply'd, will do any thing. AIR XXXII. _London_ Ladies. [Music] If you at an Office solicit your Due, And would not have Matters neglected; You must quicken the Clerk with the Perquisite too, To do what his Duty directed. Or would you the Frowns of a Lady prevent, She too has this palpable Failing, The Perquisite softens her into Consent; That Reason with all is prevailing. _Lucy._ What Love or Money can do shall be done: for all my Comfort depends upon your Safety. Enter _Polly_. _Polly._ Where is my dear Husband? --Was a Rope ever intended for this Neck! --O let me throw my Arms about it, and throttle thee with Love! --Why dost thou turn away from me? 'Tis thy _Polly_-- 'Tis thy Wife. _Macheath._ Was ever such an unfortunate Rascal as I am! _Lucy._ Was there ever such another Villain!