Air.—All in the Downs, etc.
Within the sash is closely pent,
His consort, with bemoaning lay,
Without sits pining for the event;
Her chattering lovers all around her skim;
She heeds them not, poor bird, her soul’s with him.
Mac. I must disown her [Aside]. The wench is distracted!
Lucy. Am I then bilked of my virtue? Can I have no reparation? Sure men were born to lie, and women to believe them! Oh, villain, villain!
Polly. Am I not thy wife? Thy neglect of me, thy aversion to me too severely proves it. Look on me. Tell me, am I not thy wife?
Lucy. Perfidious wretch!
Polly. Barbarous husband!
Lucy. Hadst thou been hanged five months ago I had been happy.
Polly. And I too. If you had been kind to me till death, it would not have vexed me. And that’s no very unreasonable request (though from a wife) to a man who hath not above seven or eight days to live.
Lucy. Art thou then married to another? Hast thou two wives, monster?
Mac. If women’s tongues can cease for an answer—hear me.
Lucy. I won’t. Flesh and blood can’t bear my usage.
Polly. Shall I not claim my own? Justice bids me speak.
Air.—Have you beard of a frolicsome ditty?
Mac.How happy could I be with either,
But while you thus tease me together,
To neither a word will I say,
But tol de rol, etc.
Polly. Sure, my dear, there ought to be some preference shown to a wife. At least she may claim the appearance of it. He must be distracted with his misfortunes, or he could not use me thus.
Lucy. Oh, villain, villain! Thou hast deceived me. I could even inform against thee with pleasure. Not a prude wishes more heartily to have facts against her intimate acquaintance than I now wish to have facts against thee. I would have her satisfaction, and they should all out.
Air.—Irish Trot
Polly. I’m bubbled!
Lucy. I’m bubbled!
Polly. Oh, how I am troubled!
Lucy. Bamboozled and bit!
Polly. My distresses are doubled!
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