But now, Polly, to your affair; for matters must not be left as they are. You are married then, it seems?
Polly
Yes, sir.
Peachum
And how do you propose to live, child?
Polly
Like other women, sir, upon the industry of my husband.
Mrs. Peachum
What, is the wench turned fool? A highwayman’s wife, like a soldier’s, hath as little of his pay, as of his company.
Peachum
And had not you the common views of a gentlewoman in your marriage, Polly?
Polly
I don’t know what you mean, sir.
Peachum
Of a jointure, and of being a widow.
Polly
But I love him, sir; how then could I have thoughts of parting with him?
Peachum
Parting with him! Why, this is the whole scheme and intention of all marriage-articles. The comfortable estate of widowhood, is the only hope that keeps up a wife’s spirits. Where is the woman who would scruple to be a wife, if she had it in her power to be a widow, whenever she pleased? If you have any views of this sort, Polly, I shall think the match not so very unreasonable.
Polly
How I dread to hear your advice! Yet I must beg you to explain yourself.
Peachum
Secure what he hath got, have him peached the next sessions, and then at once you are made a rich widow.
Polly
What, murder the man I love! The blood runs cold at my heart with the very thought of it.
Peachum
Fie, Polly! What hath murder to do in the affair? Since the thing sooner or later must happen, I dare say, the Captain himself would like that we should get the reward for his death sooner than a stranger. Why, Polly, the Captain knows, that as ’tis his employment to rob, so ’tis ours to take robbers; every man in his business. So that there is no malice in the case.
Mrs. Peachum
Ay, husband, now you have nicked the matter. To have him peached is the only thing could ever make me forgive her.
Air XII. Now ponder well, ye parents dear.
Polly
O ponder well! be not severe; So save a wretched wife! For on the rope that hangs my dear Depends poor Polly’s life.
Mrs. Peachum
But your duty to your parents, hussy, obliges you to hang him. What would many a wife give for such an opportunity!
Polly
What is a jointure, what is widowhood to me? I know my heart. I cannot survive him.
Air XIII. Le printems rapelle aux armes.
The turtle thus with plaintive crying, Her lover dying, The turtle thus with plaintive crying, Laments her dove. Down she drops quite spent with sighing. Paired in death, as paired in love.
Thus, sir, it will happen to your poor Polly.
Mrs. Peachum
What, is the fool in love in earnest then? I hate thee for being particular: Why, wench, thou art a shame to thy very sex.
Polly
But hear me, mother.—If you ever loved—
Mrs. Peachum
Those cursed playbooks she reads have been her ruin. One word more, hussy, and I shall knock your brains out, if you have any.
Peachum
Keep out of the way, Polly, for fear of mischief, and consider of what is proposed to you.
Mrs. Peachum
Away, hussy. Hang your husband, and be dutiful. Exit Polly.
Reenter Polly, and listens behind column.
Mrs. Peachum
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.
Peachum
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. Peachum
But in a case of necessity—our own lives are in danger.
Peachum
Then, indeed, we must comply with the customs of the world, and make gratitude give way to interest.—He shall be taken off.
Mrs. Peachum
I’ll undertake to manage Polly.
Peachum
And I’ll prepare matters for the Old Bailey.
Exeunt severally.
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 vollies 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 keep out of the way, my papa and mama may in time relent, and we may be happy.—If he stays, he is hanged, and then he is lost forever!—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 XIV. Pretty parrot, say—
Macheath
Pretty Polly, say, When I was away, Did your fancy never stray To some newer lover?
Polly
Without disguise, Heaving sighs, Doting eyes, My constant heart discover. Fondly let me loll!
