_Lucy_. Since things are thus, I’m glad the Wench hath escap’d: for by this Event, ’tis plain, she was not happy enough to deserve to be poison’d.
_Lockit_. Set your Heart to rest, Captain.—You have neither the Chance of Love or Money for another Escape,—for you are order’d to be call’d down upon your Trial immediately.
_Peachum_. Away, Hussies!—This is not a Time for a Man to be hamper’d with his Wives.—You see, the Gentleman is in Chains already.
_Lucy_. O Husband, Husband, my Heart long’d to see thee; but to see thee thus distracts me?
_Polly_. Will not my dear Husband look upon his _Polly_? Why hadst thou not flown to me for Protection? with me thou hadst been safe.
AIR LI. The last time I went o’er the Moor.
Polly. _Hither_, _dear Husband_, _turn your Eyes_.
Polly. _Think with that Look_, _thy_ Polly _dies_.
_Macheath_. What would you have me say, Ladies?—You see this affair will soon be at an end, without my disobliging either of you.
_Peachum_. But the settling this Point, Captain, might prevent a Law-Suit between your two Widows.
Macheath. _Which way shall I turn me_—_How can I decide_? _Wives_, _the Day of our Death_, _are as fond as a Bride_. _One Wife is too much for most Husbands to hear_, _But two at a time there’s no mortal can bear_. _This way_, _and that way_, _and which way I will_, _What would comfort the one_, _t’ other Wife would take ill_.
_Polly_. But if his own Misfortunes have made him insensible to mine—A Father sure will be more compassionate—Dear, dear Sir, sink the material Evidence, and bring him off at his Trial—_Polly_ upon her Knees begs it of you.
_When my Heroe in Court appears_, _And stands arraign’d for his Life_; _Then think of poor_ Polly’s _Tears_; _For Ah_! _poor_ Polly’s _his Wife_. _Like the Sailor he holds up his hand_, _Distrest on the dashing Wave_. _To die a dry Death at Land_, _Is as bad as a watery Grave_. _And alas_, _poor_ Polly! _Alack_, _and well-a-day_! _Before I was in Love_, _Oh_! _every Month was_ May.
_Lucy_. If _Peachum’s_ Heart is harden’d; sure you, Sir, will have more Compassion on a Daughter.—I know the Evidence is in your Power.—How then can you be a Tyrant to me?
_When he holds up his Hand arraign’d for his Life_, _O think of your Daughter_, _and think I’m his Wife_! _What are Canons_, _or Bombs_, _or clashing of Swords_? _For Death is more certain by Witnesses Words_. _Then nail up their Lips_; _that dread Thunder allay_; _And each Month of my Life will hereafter be May_.