-I wish all our quarrels might have so comfortable a reconciliation.

Polly. I have no excuse for my own behaviour, madam, but my misfortunes-and really, madam, I suffer too upon your account.

Lucy. But, Miss Polly-in the way of friendship, will you give me leave to propose a glass of cordial to you?

Polly. Strong waters are apt to give me the head-ache. I hope, madam, you will excuse me.

Lucy. Not the greatest lady in the land could have better in her closet for her own private drinking-You seem mighty low in spirits, my dear!

Polly. I am sorry, madam, my health will not allow me to accept of your offer--I should not have left you in the rude manner I did, when we met last, madam, had not my papa hauled me away so unexpectedly-I was, indeed, somewhat provoked, and perhaps might use some expressions, that were disrespectful-but really, madam, the captain treated me with so much contempt and cruelty, that I deserved your pity rather than your resentment.

Lucy. But since his escape, no doubt all matters are made up again-Ah, Polly! Polly! 'tis I am the unhappy wife, and he loves you, as if you were only his mistress.

Polly. Sure, madam, you cannot think me so happy as to be the object of your jealousy?—A man is always afraid of a woman, who loves him too well-so that I must expect to be neglected and avoided.

Lucy. Then our cases, my dear Polly, are exactly alike: both of us, indeed, have been too fond.

AIR.-O, Bessy Bell, &c.

Polly. A curse attends that woman's love,
Who always would be pleasing.

Lucy. The pertness of the billing dove,
Like tickling is but teasing.
Polly. What, then, in love can woman do?
Lucy. If we grow fond, they shun us,
Polly. And when we fly them they pursue,
Lucy. But leave us when they've won us.

Lucy. Love is so very whimsical in both sexes, that it is impossible to be lasting-but my heart is particular, and contradicts my own observation.

Polly. But really, mistress Lucy, by his last behaviour, I think I ought to envy you-When I was forced from him, he did not shew the least tenderness-but, perhaps, he hath a heart not capable of it.

AIR.-Would fate to me Belinda give.

Among the men coquettes we find
Who court, by.turns, all womankind,

And we grant all their hearts desired,
When they are flattered and admired.

The coquettes of both sexes are self lovers, and that is a love no other whatever can dispossess.I fear, my dear Lucy, our husband is one of those.

Lucy. Away with these melancholy reflections! -Indeed, my dear Polly, we are both of us a cup too low let me prevail upon you to accept of my offer,

AIR-Come, sweet lass.

Come, sweet lass!
Let's banish sorrow
Till to-morrow;
Come, sweet lass!

Let's take a chirping glass,
Wine can clear

The vapours of despair,
And make us light as air;
Then drink, and banish care.

I can't bear, child, to see you in such low spirits
--and I must persuade you to what I know
will do you good-
-I shall now soon be even
with the hypocritical strumpet. [Aside.] [Exit.
Pooly. All this wheedling of Lucy can't be for
nothing at this time too, when I know she
hates me !-The dissembling of a woman is al-
ways the forerunner of mischief-By pouring
strong waters down my throat, she thinks to
pump some secrets out of me-I'll be upon my
guard, and won't taste a drop of her liquor, I'm
resolved.

Enter Lucy, with strong waters. Lucy. Come, Miss Polly.

Polly. Indeed, child, you have given yourself trouble to no purpose-You must, my dear, ex

cuse me.

Lucy. Really, Miss Polly, you are as squeamishly affected about taking a cup of strong waters, as a lady before company. I vow, Polly, I shall take it monstrously ill, if you refuse meBrandy and men (though women love them never so well) are always taken by us with some reluctance-unless 'tis in private.

Polly. I protest, Madam, it goes against me -What do I see! Macheath again in custody!---now every glimmering of happiness is lust! [Drops the glass of liquor on the ground.

Lucy. Since things are thus, I'm glad the wench hath escaped; for, by this event, 'tis plain she was not happy enough to deserve to be poisoned. [Aside.

Enter LOCKIT, MACHEATH, and PEACHUM. Lock. Set your heart at rest, captain-You

have neither the chance of love or money for another escape, for you are ordered to be called down upon your trial immediately.

Peach. Away, hussies! this is not a time for a man to be hampered with his wives-you see the gentleman is in chains already.

Lucy. O husband, husband! my heart longed 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. The last time I came o'er the moor.

Polly. Hither, dear husband! turn your eyes,
Lucy. Bestow one glance to cheer me.
Polly. Think with that look thy Polly dies.
Lucy. O shun me not, but hear me.
Polly. Tis Polly sues.

Lucy. Tis Lucy speaks.

Polly. Is thus true love requited?
Lucy. My heart is bursting.
Polly. Mine too breaks.
Lucy. Must I,

Polly. Must I be slighted?

Mac. What would you have me say, ladies?—— You see this affair will soon be at an end, without my disobliging either of you.

Peach. But the settling this point, captain, might prevent a law-suit between your two widows.

AIR.-Tom Tinker's my true love, &c.

Mac. 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-Pally, upon her knees, begs it of you.

AIR.-I am a poor shepherd undone.

When my hero in court appears, And stands arraigned for his life, Then think of your 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 watʼry grave.