_Polly._ --My Dear, with you.

_Macheath._ O leave me to Thought! I fear! I doubt!

I tremble! I droop! --See, my Courage is out.

[Turns up the empty Bottle.

_Polly._ No Token of Love?

_Macheath._ --See, my Courage is out.

[Turns up the empty Pot.

_Lucy._ No Token of Love?

_Polly._ --Adieu.

_Lucy._ --Farewell.

_Macheath._ But hark! I hear the Toll of the Bell.

_Chorus._ Tol de rol lol, &c.

_Jailor._ Four Women more, Captain, with a Child apiece! See, here they come.

[Enter Women and Children.

_Macheath._ What-- four Wives more! --This is too much-- Here-- tell the Sheriff's Officers I am ready. [Exit _Macheath_ guarded.

_To them, Enter _Player_ and _Beggar_._

_Player._ But, honest Friend, I hope you don't intend that _Macheath_ shall be really executed.

_Beggar._ Most certainly, Sir. --To make the Piece perfect, I was for doing strict poetical Justice. --_Macheath_ is to be hang'd; and for the other Personages of the Drama, the Audience must have suppos'd they were all either hang'd or transported.

_Player._ Why then, Friend, this is a downright deep Tragedy. The Catastrophe is manifestly wrong, for an Opera must end happily.

_Beggar._ Your Objection, Sir, is very just, and is easily remov'd. For you must allow, that in this kind of Drama, 'tis no matter how absurdly things are brought about-- So-- you Rabble there-- run and cry, A Reprieve! --let the Prisoner be brought back to his Wives in Triumph.

_Player._ All this we must do, to comply with the Taste of the Town.

_Beggar._ Through the whole Piece you may observe such a Similitude of Manners in high and low Life, that it is difficult to determine whether (in the fashionable Vices) the fine Gentlemen imitate the Gentlemen of the Road, or the Gentlemen of the Road the fine Gentlemen. --Had the Play remained, as I at first intended, it would have carried a most excellent Moral. 'Twould have shewn that the lower Sort of People have their Vices in a degree as well as the Rich: And that they are punish'd for them.

_To them, _Macheath_ with _Rabble_, &c._

_Macheath._ So, it seems, I am not left to my Choice, but must have a Wife at last. --Look ye, my Dears, we will have no Controversy now. Let us give this Day to Mirth, and I am sure she who thinks herself my Wife will testify her Joy by a Dance.

_All._ Come, a Dance-- a Dance.

_Macheath._ Ladies, I hope you will give me leave to present a Partner to each of you. And (if I may without Offence) for this time, I take _Polly_ for mine. --And for Life, you s.l.u.t,-- for we were really marry'd. --As for the rest. --But at present keep your own Secret.

[To _Polly_.

A DANCE.

AIR LXVIII. Lumps of Pudding, &c.

[Music]

Thus I stand like the _Turk_, with his Doxies around; From all Sides their Glances his Pa.s.sion confound; For Black, Brown, and Fair, his Inconstancy burns, And the different Beauties subdue him by turns: Each calls forth her Charms to provoke his Desires: Though willing to all, with but one he retires.

But think of this Maxim, and put off your Sorrow, The Wretch of To-day, may be happy To-morrow.

_Chorus._ But think of this Maxim, &c.

FINIS.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Printed in Great Britain by Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, Bungay, Suffolk.

Errata Noted by Transcriber:

Inconsistencies: Dramatis Personae: "Mat of the Mint"

[_The name is spelled "Mat" here and on the character's first entrance, "Matt" everywhere else._]

The place name "Mary-bone" is spelled randomly with and without a hyphen.

There is no ill.u.s.tration at the end of Act II, Scene II.

Spelling Unchanged: Air X. ... Whose Treasure is contreband.

the hypocrytical Strumpet

Punctuation or Capitalization Unchanged:

Dear Wife, be a little pacified, Don't let your Pa.s.sion of rich Brocade. --that, I see, is dispos'd of.

you had a handsom Gold Watch of us 'tother Day --But are you sure it is Captain _Macheath_.

but to see thee / thus distracts me?

Air LXI. The stronger Liquor we'er drinking;