Peach. Keep out of the way, Polly, for fear of mischief, and consider of what is proposed to you.

Mrs. Peacb. Away, hussy! Hang your husband, and be dutiful. [Polly listening.] The thing, husband, must and shall be done. For the sake of intelligence we must take other measures and have him peached the next session without her consent. If she will not know her duty, we know ours.

Peacb. But really, my dear, it grieves one’s heart to take off a great man. When I consider his personal bravery, his fine stratagem, how much we have already got by him, and how much more we may get, methinks I can’t find in my heart to have a hand in his death. I wish you could have made Polly undertake it.

Mrs. Peacb. But in a case of necessity—our own lives are in danger.

Peacb. Then, indeed we must comply with the customs of the world and make gratitude give way to interest. He shall be taken off.

Mrs. Peacb. I’ll undertake to manage Polly.

Peacb. And I’ll prepare matters for the Old Bailey. [

Exeunt Peachum and Mrs. Peachum.

Polly. Now I’m a wretch indeed! Methinks I see him already in the cart, sweeter and more lovely than the nosegay in his hand! I hear the crowd extolling his resolution and intrepidity. What volleys of sighs are sent from the windows of Holborn that so comely a youth should be brought to disgrace. I see him at the Tree. The whole circle are in tears. Even butchers weep! Jack Ketch himself hesitates to perform his duty and would be glad to lose his fee by a reprieve. What, then, will become of Polly? As yet I may inform him of their design and aid him in his escape. It shall be so. But then he flies, absents himself, and I bar myself from his dear, dear conversation! That, too, will distract me. If he keeps out of the way, my Papa and Mamma may in time relent and we may be happy.—If he stays, he is hanged, and then he is lost for ever. He intended to lie concealed in my room till the dusk of the evening. If they are abroad, I’ll this instant let him out, lest some accident should prevent him.

[Exit, and returns with Macheath.

Air.—Pretty parrot, say, etc.

Mac. Pretty Polly, say,

Polly. Without disguise,

Mac. O pretty, pretty Poll!

Polly. And are you as ever, found as ever, my dear?

Mac. Suspect my honour, my courage; suspect anything but my love. May my pistols miss fire and my mare slip her shoulder while I am pursued, if I ever forsake thee.

Polly. Nay, my dear, I have no reason to doubt you; for I find in the romance you lent me none of the great heroes were ever false in love.