_Polly._ Follow them, _Filch_, to the Court. And when the Trial is over, bring me a particular Account of his Behaviour, and of every thing that happen'd-- You'll find me here with Miss _Lucy_. [Exit _Filch_.] But why is all this Musick? _Lucy._ The Prisoners, whose Trials are put off 'till next Session, are diverting themselves. _Polly._ Sure there is nothing so charming as Music! I'm fond of it to Distraction! --But alas! --now, all Mirth seems an Insult upon my Affliction. --Let us retire, my dear _Lucy_, and indulge our Sorrows. --The noisy Crew, you see, are coming upon us. [Exeunt. _A Dance of Prisoners in Chains, &c._ [Illustration] [Illustration] SCENE V. _The _Condemn'd Hold_._ _Macheath_, in a melancholy Posture. AIR LVII. Happy Groves. [Music] O cruel, cruel, cruel Case! Must I suffer this Disgrace? AIR LVIII. Of all the Girls that are so smart. [Music] Of all the Friends in time of Grief, When threatning Death looks grimmer, Not one so sure can bring Relief, As this best Friend, a Brimmer. [Drinks. AIR LIX. _Britons_ strike home. [Music] Since I must swing,-- I scorn, I scorn to wince or whine. [Rises. AIR LX. Chevy Chase. [Music] But now again my Spirits sink; I'll raise them high with Wine. [Drinks a Glass of Wine. AIR LXI. To old Sir _Simon_ the King. [Music] But Valour the stronger grows, The stronger Liquor we'er drinking; And how can we feel our Woes, When we've lost the Trouble of Thinking? [Drinks. AIR LXII. Joy to Great _Caesar_. [Music] If thus-- A Man can die Much bolder with Brandy. [Pours out a Bumper of Brandy. AIR LXIII. There was an old Woman. [Music] So I drink off this Bumper. --And now I can stand the Test, And my Comrades shall see, that I die as brave as the Best. [Drinks. AIR LXIV. Did you ever hear of a gallant Sailor. [Music] But can I leave my pretty Hussies, Without one Tear, or tender Sigh? AIR LXV. Why are mine Eyes still flowing. [Music] Their Eyes, their Lips, their Busses Recall my Love,-- Ah must I die! AIR LXVI. Green Sleeves. [Music] Since Laws were made for ev'ry Degree, To curb Vice in others, as well as me, I wonder we han't better Company, Upon _Tyburn_ Tree! But Gold from Law can take out the Sting; And if rich Men like us were to swing, 'Twou'd thin the Land, such Numbers to string Upon _Tyburn_ Tree! _Jailor._ Some Friends of yours, Captain, desire to be admitted-- I leave you together. Enter _Ben Budge_, _Matt of the Mint_.