Scene 1 - Newgate

Enter Lockit and Lucy

Lock. To be sure, wench, you must have been aiding and abetting to help him to this escape.

Lucy. Sir, here hath been Peachum and his daughter Polly; and to be sure they know the ways of Newgate as well as if they had been born and bred in the place all their lives. Why must all your suspicion light upon me?

Lock. Lucy, Lucy! I will have none of these shuffling answers.

Lucy. Well, then—if I know anything of him, I wish I may be burnt!

Lock. Keep your temper, Lucy, or I shall pronounce you guilty.

Lucy. Keep yours, sir. I do wish I may be burnt, I do. And what can I say more to convince you?

Lock. Did he tip handsomely? How much did he come down with? Come, hussy, don’t cheat your father, and I shall not be angry with you. Perhaps you have made a better bargain with him than I could have done. How much, my good girl?

Lucy. You know, sir, I am fond of him, and would have given money to have kept him with me.

Lock. Ah, Lucy, thy education might have put thee more upon thy guard; for a girl in the bar of an alehouse is always besieged.

Lucy. Dear sir, mention not my education, for ’twas to that I owe my ruin.

Air.—If love’s a sweet passion, etc.

When young at the bar you first taught me to score,
And bid me be free of my lips, and no more,
I was kissed by the parson, the squire, and the sot;
When the guest was departed, the kiss was forgot.
But his kiss was so sweet, and so closely he pressed,
That I languished and pined till I granted the rest.

If you can forgive me, sir, I will make a fair confession; for to be sure he hath been a most barbarous villain to me.

Lock. And so you have let him escape, hussy, have you?

Lucy. When a woman loves, a kind look, a tender word can persuade her to anything and I could ask no other bribe.

Lock. Thou wilt always be a vulgar slut, Lucy. If you would not be looked upon as a fool, you should never do anything but upon the foot of interest. Those that act otherwise are their own bubbles.

Lucy. But love, sir, is a misfortune that may happen to the most discreet woman; and, in love, we are all fools alike. Notwithstanding all he swore, I am now fully convinced that Polly Peachum is actually his wife. Did I let him escape (fool that I was!) to go to her? Polly will wheedle herself into his money, and then Peachum will hang him and cheat us both.

Lock. So I am to be ruined, because forsooth you must be in love? A very pretty excuse!

Lucy. I could murder that impudent, happy strumpet. I gave him his life, and that creature enjoys the sweets of it. Ungrateful Macheath!

  By PanEris using Melati.

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