Peach. What! is the wench dumb? Speak, or I’ll make you plead by squeezing out an answer from you. Are you really bound wife to him, or are you only upon liking?
[Pinches her.
Polly. Oh!
[Screaming.
Mrs. Peach. How the mother is to be pitied who hath handsome daughters! Locks, bolts, bars, and lectures of morality are nothing to them. They break through them all. They have as much pleasure in cheating a father and mother as in cheating at cards.
Peach. Why, Polly, I shall soon know if you are married by Macheath’s keeping from our house.
Air.—Grim king of the ghosts, etc.
Will Cupid our mothers obey?
Though my heart were as frozen as ice,
At his flame ’twould have melted away.
When he kissed me, so closely he pressed.
’Twas so sweet that I must have complied.
So I thought it both safest and best
To marry, for fear you should chide.
Mrs. Peach. Then all the hopes of our family are gone for ever and ever!
Peach. And Macheath may hang his father and mother-in-law in hope to get into their daughter’s fortune!
Polly. I did not marry him (as ’tis the fashion) coolly and deliberately for honour or money—but I love him.
Mrs. Peach. Love him! Worse and worse! I thought the girl had been better bred. Oh, husband! husband! her folly makes me mad! My head swims! I’m distracted! I can’t support myself—Oh!
Peach. See, wench, to what a condition you have reduced your poor mother! A glass of cordial this instant! How the poor woman takes it to heart! [Polly goes out and returns with it.] Ah, hussy! now this is the only comfort your mother has left.
Polly. Give her another glass, sir; my Mamma drinks double the quantity whenever she is out of order. This, you see, fetches her.
Mrs. Peach. The girl shows such a readiness and so much concern that I could almost find in my heart to forgive her.
Air.—O Fenny, O Fenny! where hast thou been?
By keeping men off you keep them on:
Polly. But he so teased me,
And he so pleased me,
What I did you must have done.
Mrs. Peach. Not with a highwayman—you sorry slut!
Peach. A word with you, wife. ’Tis no new thing for a wench to take man without consent of parents. You know ’tis the frailty of woman, my dear.
Mrs. Peach. Yes, indeed, the sex is frail. But the first time a woman is frail, she should be somewhat nice methinks; for then or never is the time to make her fortune. After that she hath nothing to do but to guard herself from being found out and she may do what she pleases.
Peach. Make yourself a little easy; I have a thought shall soon set all matters again to rights. Why so melancholy, Polly? Since what is done cannot be undone, we must all endeavour to make the best of it.
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