O joy beyond Expression!
                     Thus, safe a-shore,
                     I ask no more,
                   My All is in my Possession.
 
  PEACHUM. I hear Customers in t'other Room: Go, talk with 'em, Polly; but 
come to us again, as soon as they are gone---But, hark ye, Child, if 'tis 
the Gentleman who was here Yesterday about the Repeating Watch; say you 
believe we can't get Intelligence of it till to-morrow. For I lent it to 
Suky Straddle, to make a figure with it to-night at a Tavern in Drury-
Lane. If t'other Gentleman calls for the Silver-hilted Sword; you know 
Beetle-brow'd Jemmy hath it on, and he doth not come from Tunbridge 
'till Tuesday Night; so that it cannot be had 'till then. 
 
 
                                  Scene 9.
 
                           PEACHUM, MRS. PEACHUM.
  PEACHUM. Dear Wife, be a little pacified, Don't let your Passion run away 
with your Senses. Polly, I grant you, hath done a rash thing.
  MRS. PEACHUM. If she had had only an Intrigue with the Fellow, why the 
very best Families have excused and huddled up a Frailty of that sort. 
'Tis Marriage, Husband, that makes it a Blemish.
  PEACHUM. But Money, Wife, is the true Fuller's-Earth for Reputations, 
there is not a Spot or a Stain but what it can take out. A rich Rogue 
now-a-days is fit Company for any Gentleman; and the World, my Dear, hath 
not such a contempt for Roguery as you imagine. I tell you, Wife, I can 
make this Match turn to our Advantage.
  MRS. PEACHUM. I am very sensible, Husband, that Captain Macheath is worth 
Money, but I am in doubt whether he hath not two or three Wives already, 
and then if he should die in a Session or two, Polly's Dower would come 
into a Dispute.
  PEACHUM. That, indeed, is a Point which ought to be consider'd.
 
                      Air XI.--A Soldier and a Sailor.
 
                   A Fox may steal your Hens, Sir,
                   A Whore your Health and Pence, Sir,
                   Your Daughter rob your Chest, Sir,
                   Your Wife may steal your Rest, Sir.
                     A Thief your Goods and Plate.
                   But this is all but picking,
                   With Rest, Pence, Chest and Chicken;
                   It ever was decreed, Sir,
                   If Lawyer's Hand is fee'd, Sir,
                   He steals your whole Estate.
 
The Lawyers are bitter Enemies to those in our Way. They don't care that 
any body should get a clandestine Livelihood but themselves.
 
                                 Scene 10.
 
                       MRS. PEACHUM, PEACHUM, POLLY.
  POLLY. 'Twas only Nimming Ned. He brought in a Damask Window-Curtain, a 
Hoop-Petticoat, a pair of Silver Candlesticks, and one Silk Stocking, from 
the Fire that happen'd last Night.
  PEACHUM. There is not a Fellow that is cleverer in his way, and saves 
more Goods out of the Fire than Ned. But now, Polly, to your Affair; for 
Matters must 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 turn'd 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 Widow-hood, 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 
pleas'd? 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 peach'd 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 rather 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 there is no 
Malice in the case.
  MRS. PEACHUM. Ay, Husband, now you have nick'd the Matter. To have him 
peach'd 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