[The Gang, rang'd in the Front of the Stage, load their Pistols, and stick them under their Girdles; then go off singing the first Part in Chorus.

_Macheath._ What a Fool is a fond Wench! _Polly_ is most confoundedly bit. --I love the s.e.x. And a Man who loves Money, might as well be contented with one Guinea, as I with one Woman. The Town perhaps have been as much obliged to me, for recruiting it with free-hearted Ladies, as to any Recruiting Officer in the Army. If it were not for us, and the other Gentlemen of the Sword, _Drury-Lane_ would be uninhabited.

AIR XXI. Would you have a young Virgin, &c.

[Music]

If the Heart of a Man is deprest with Cares, The Mist is dispell'd when a Woman appears; Like the Notes of a Fiddle, she sweetly, sweetly Raises the Spirits, and charms our Ears, Roses and Lilies her Cheeks disclose, But her ripe Lips are more sweet than those.

Press her, Caress her, With Blisses, Her Kisses Dissolve us in Pleasure, and soft Repose.

I must have Women. There is nothing unbends the Mind like them. Money is not so strong a Cordial for the Time. Drawer-- [Enter Drawer.] Is the Porter gone for all the Ladies according to my Directions?

_Drawer._ I expect him back every Minute. But you know, Sir, you sent him as far as _Hockley in the Hole_ for three of the Ladies, for one in _Vinegar-Yard_, and for the rest of them somewhere about _Lewkner's-Lane_. Sure some of them are below, for I hear the Bar-Bell.

As they come I will shew them up. Coming, Coming.

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 s.l.u.t; 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 Const.i.tution. 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 a.s.surance, 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.

_Mrs. Coaxer._ We have so many Interlopers-- Yet with Industry, one may still have a little Picking. I carried a silver-flowered Lutestring, and a Piece of black Padesoy to Mr. _Peachum's_ Lock but last Week.

_Mrs. Vixen._ There's _Molly Brazen_ hath the Ogle of a Rattle-Snake.

She rivetted a Linen-Draper's Eye so fast upon her, that he was nick'd of three Pieces of Cambric before he could look off.

_Brazen._ Oh dear Madam! --But sure nothing can come up to your handling of Laces! And then you have such a sweet deluding Tongue! To cheat a Man is nothing; but the Woman must have fine Parts indeed who cheats a Woman.

_Mrs. Vixen._ Lace, Madam, lies in a small Compa.s.s, and is of easy Conveyance. But you are apt, Madam, to think too well of your Friends.

_Mrs. Coaxer._ If any woman hath more Art than another, to be sure, 'tis _Jenny Diver_. Though her Fellow be never so agreeable, she can pick his Pocket as coolly, as if money were her only Pleasure. Now that is a Command of the Pa.s.sions uncommon in a Woman!

_Jenny._ I never go to the Tavern with a Man, but in the View of Business. I have other Hours, and other sort of Men for my Pleasure. But had I your Address, Madam--

_Macheath._ Have done with your Compliments, Ladies; and drink about: You are not so fond of me, _Jenny_, as you use to be.

_Jenny._ 'Tis not convenient, Sir, to shew my Fondness among so many Rivals. 'Tis your own Choice, and not the Warmth of my Inclination that will determine you.

AIR XXIII. All in a misty Morning, &c.

[Music]

Before the Barn-Door crowing, The c.o.c.k by Hens attended, His Eyes around him throwing, Stands for a while suspended.

Then One he singles from the Crew, And cheers the happy Hen; With how do you do, and how do you do, And how do you do again.

_Macheath._ Ah _Jenny!_ thou art a dear s.l.u.t.

_Jenny._ A Man of Courage should never put any thing to the Risk but his Life. These are the Tools of a Man of Honour. Cards and Dice are only fit for cowardly Cheats, who prey upon their Friends.

[She takes up his Pistol. _Tawdry_ takes up the other.

_Tawdry._ This, Sir, is fitter for your Hand. Besides your Loss of Money, 'tis a Loss to the Ladies. Gaming takes you off from Women. How fond could I be of you! but before Company 'tis ill bred.

_Macheath._ Wanton Hussies!

_Jenny._ I must and will have a Kiss to give my Wine a Zest.

[They take him about the Neck and make signs to _Peachum_ and Constables, who rush in upon him.

_Peachum._ I seize you, Sir, as my Prisoner.

_Macheath._ Was this well done, _Jenny_? --Women are Decoy Ducks; who can trust them! Beasts, Jades, Jilts, Harpies, Furies, Wh.o.r.es!

_Peachum._ Your Case, Mr. _Macheath_, is not particular. The greatest Heroes have been ruin'd by Women. But, to do them Justice, I must own they are a pretty sort of Creatures, if we could trust them. You must now, Sir, take your Leave of the Ladies, and if they have a mind to make you a Visit, they will be sure to find you at home. This Gentleman, Ladies, lodges in _Newgate_. Constables, wait upon the Captain to his Lodgings.