you censure the age,
   Be cautious and sage,
Lest the courtiers offended should be;
   If you mention vice or bribe,
   ’Tis so pat to all the tribe,
Each cries—That was levelled at me.

Peach. Here’s poor Ned Clincher’s name, I see. Sure, brother Lockit, there was a little unfair proceeding in Ned’s case; for he told me in the condemned hold that, for value received, you had promised him a session or two longer without molestation.

Lock. Mr. Peachum—this is the first time my honour was ever called in question.

Peach. Business is at an end—if once we act dishonourably.

Lock. Who accuses me?

Peach. You are warm, brother.

Lock. He that attacks my honour, attacks my livelihood. And this usage, sir, is not to be borne.

Peach. Since you provoke me to speak—I must tell you, too, that Mrs. Coaxer charges you with defrauding her of her information-money, for the apprehending of Curl-pated Hugh. Indeed, indeed, brother, we must punctually pay our spies, or we shall have no information.

Lock. Is this language to me, sirrah!—who have saved you from the gallows, sirrah?

[Collaring each other.

Peach. If I am hanged, it shall be for ridding the world of an arrant rascal.

Lock. This hand shall do the office of the halter you deserve, and throttle you—you dog!

Peach. Brother, brother! We are both in the wrong, we shall be both losers in the dispute; for you know, we have it in our power to hang each other. You should not be so passionate.

Lock. Nor you so provoking.

Peach. ’Tis our mutual interest, ’tis for the interest of the world we should agree. If I said anything, brother, to the prejudice of your character, I ask pardon.

Lock. Brother Peachum, I can forgive, as well as resent. Give me your hand. Suspicion does not become a friend.

Peach. I only meant to give you occasion to justify yourself. But I must now step home, for I expect the gentleman about this snuff-box that Filch nimmed two nights ago in the Park. I appointed him at this hour.

[Exit.

Enter Lucy

Lock. Whence come you, hussy?

Lucy. My tears might answer that question.

Lock. You have then been whimpering and fondling, like a spaniel, over the fellow that hath abused you.

Lucy. One can’t help love; one can’t cure it. ’Tis not in my power to obey you, and hate him.


  By PanEris using Melati.

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