Trull. That, madam, is thereafter as they be.
Slam. I, madam, was once kept by a Jew, and, bating their religion, to women they are a good sort of people.
Tawd. Now, for my part, I own I like an old fellow; for we always make them pay for what they can’t do.
Vix. A spruce prentice, let me tell you, ladies, is no ill thing. They bleed freely. I have sent at least two or three dozen of them in my time to the plantations.
Fen. But to be sure, sir, with so much good fortune as you have had upon the road you must be grown immensely rich?
Mac. The road, indeed, hath done me justice, but the gaming-table hath been my ruin.
Air.—When once I lay with another man’s wife
Fen. The gamesters and lawyers are jugglers alike,
Like gipsies, if once they can finger a souse,
Your pockets they pick, and they pilfer your house,
And give your estate to a stranger.
A man of courage should never put anything 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 one pistol, Tawdry takes up the other.
Tawd. 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.
Mac. Wanton hussies!
Fen. 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.]
Peach. I seize you, sir, as my prisoner.
Mac. Was this well done, Jenny? Women are decoy-ducks; who can trust them? Beasts, jades, jilts, harpies, furies, whores!
Peach. Your case, Mr. Macheath, is not particular. The greatest heroes have been ruined 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.
Air.—When first I laid siege to my Chloris
Mac. At the Tree I shall suffer with pleasure,
Let me go where I will,
In all kinds of ill,
I shall find no such furies as these are.
Peach. Ladies, I’ll take care the reckoning shall be discharged.
[Exit Macheath, guarded, with Peachum and Constables; the women remain.]
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