_Polly._ O _Macheath_! was it for this we parted? Taken! Imprisoned! Try'd! Hang'd-- cruel Reflection! I'll stay with thee 'till Death-- no Force shall tear thy dear Wife from thee now. --What means my Love? --Not one kind Word! not one kind Look! think what thy _Polly_ suffers to see thee in this Condition. AIR XXXIII. All in the Downs, &c. [Music] Thus when the Swallow seeking Prey, Within the Sash is closely pent, His Consort, with bemoaning Lay, Without sits pining for th' Event. Her chatt'ring Lovers all around her skim; She heeds them not (poor Bird!) her Soul's with him. _Macheath._ [Aside.] I must disown her. [Aloud.] The Wench is distracted. _Lucy._ Am I then bilk'd of my Virtue? Can I have no Reparation? Sure Men were born to lie, and Women to believe them! O Villain! Villain! _Polly._ Am I not thy Wife? --Thy Neglect of me, thy Aversion to me too severely proves it. --Look on me. --Tell me, am I not thy Wife? _Lucy._ Perfidious Wretch! _Polly._ Barbarous Husband! _Lucy._ Hadst thou been hang'd five Months ago, I had been happy. _Polly._ And I too-- If you had been kind to me 'till Death, it would not have vexed me-- And that's no very unreasonable Request, (though from a Wife) to a Man who hath not above seven or eight Days to live. _Lucy._ Art thou then married to another? Hast thou two Wives, Monster? _Macheath._ If Women's Tongues can cease for an Answer-- hear me. _Lucy._ I won't. --Flesh and Blood can't bear my Usage. _Polly._ Shall I not claim my own? Justice bids me speak. AIR XXXIV. Have you heard of a frolicksome Ditty, &c. [Music] _Macheath._ How happy could I be with either, Were t'other dear Charmer away! But while you thus teaze me together, To neither a Word will I say; But tol de rol, &c. _Polly._ Sure, my Dear, there ought to be some Preference shewn to a Wife! At least she may claim the Appearance of it. He must be distracted with his Misfortunes, or he could not use me thus. _Lucy._ O Villain, Villain! thou hast deceiv'd me. --I could even inform against thee with Pleasure. Not a Prude wishes more heartily to have Facts against her intimate Acquaintance, than I now wish to have Facts against thee. I would have her Satisfaction, and they should all out. AIR XXXV. _Irish_ Trot. [Music] _Polly._ I am bubbled. _Lucy._ . . . . I'm bubbled. _Polly._ O how I am troubled! _Lucy._ Bambouzled, and bit! _Polly._ . . . . . . My Distresses are doubled. _Lucy._ When you come to the Tree, should the Hangman refuse, These Fingers, with Pleasure, could fasten the Noose. _Polly._ I'm bubbled, &c. _Macheath._ Be pacified, my dear _Lucy_-- This is all a Fetch of _Polly's_, to make me desperate with you in case I get off. If I am hang'd, she would fain have the Credit of being thought my Widow-- Really, _Polly_, this is no time for a Dispute of this sort; for whenever you are talking of Marriage, I am thinking of Hanging.