MATT. Show me a Gang of Courtiers that can say as much.
  BEN. We are for a just Partition of the World, for every Man hath a Right 
to enjoy Life.
  MATT. We retrench the Superfluities of Mankind. The World is avaritious, 
and I hate Avarice. A covetous fellow, like a Jackdaw, steals what he was 
never made to enjoy, for the sake of hiding it. These are the Robbers of 
Mankind, for Money was made for the Free-hearted and Generous, and where is 
the Injury of taking from another, what he hath not the Heart to make use of?
  JEMMY. Our several Stations for the Day are fixt. Good luck attend us 
all. Fill the Glasses.
 
                      Air XIX.--Fill every Glass, &c.
 
                                   MATT.
                   Fill ev'ry Glass, or Wine inspires us,
                        And fires us
                   With Courage, Love and Joy.
                   Women and Wine should Life employ.
                   Is there ought else on Earth desirous?
 
                                   CHORUS
                           Fill ev'ry Glass, &c.
 
 
                                  Scene 2.
 
                          To them enter MACHEATH.
  MACHEATH. Gentlemen, well met. My Heart hath been with you this Hour: but 
an unexpected Affair hath detain'd me. No ceremony, I beg you.
  MATT. We were just breaking up to go upon Duty. Am I to have the Honour 
of taking the Air with you, Sir, this Evening upon the Heath? I drink a 
Dram now and then with the Stage-coachmen in the way of Friendship and 
Intelligence; and I know that about this Time there will be Passengers upon 
the Western Road, who are worth speaking with.
  MACHEATH. I was to have been of that Party---but----
  MATT. But what, Sir?
  MACHEATH. Is there any Man who suspects my Courage?
  MATT. We have all been Witnesses of it.
  MACHEATH. My Honour and Truth to the Gang?
  MATT. I'll be answerable for it.
  MACHEATH. In the Division of our Booty, have I ever shewn the least Marks 
of Avarice or Injustice?
  MATT. By these Questions something seems to have ruffled you. Are any of 
us suspected?
  MACHEATH. I have a fixed Confidence, Gentlemen, in you all, as Men of 
Honour, as as such I value and respect you. Peachum is a Man that is useful 
to us.
  MATT. Is he about to play us any foul Play? I'll shoot him through the 
Head.
  MACHEATH. I beg you, Gentlemen, act with Conduct and Discretion. A Pistol 
is your last Resort.
  MATT. He knows nothing of this Meeting.
  MACHEATH. Business cannot go on without him. He is a Man who knows the 
World, and is a necessary Agent to us. We have had a slight Difference, and 
'till it is accomodated I shall be obliged to keep out of his way. Any 
private dispute of mine shall be of no ill consequence to my Friends. You 
must continue to act under his Direction, for the moment we break loose 
from him, our Gang is ruin'd.
  MATT. As a Bawd to a Whore, I grant you, he is to us of great 
Convenience.
  MACHEATH. Make him believe I have quitted the Gang, which I can never do 
but with Life. At our private Quarters I will continue to meet you. A Week 
or so will probably reconcile us.
  MATT. Your Instructions shall be observ'd. 'Tis now high time for us to 
repair to our several Duties; so 'till the Evening at our Quarters in Moor-
Fields we bid you farewell.
  MACHEATH. I shall wish myself with you. Success attend you. 
                                         [Sits down melancholy at the Table.
 
            Air XX.--March in Rinaldo, with Drums and Trumpets.
 
                                   MATT.
                   Let us take the Road.
                     Hark! I hear the Sound of Coaches!
                     The Hour of Attack approaches,
                   To your Arms, brave Boys, and load.
 
                   See the Ball I hold!
                     Let the Chymists toil like Asses,
                     Our Fire their Fire surpasses,
                   And turns all our Lead to Gold.
 
[The Gang, rang'd in the Front of the Stage, load their Pistols, and stick 
   them under their Girdles; then go off singing the first Part in Chorus.
 
 
                                  Scene 3.
 
                             MACHEATH, DRAWER.
  MACHEATH. What a Fool is a fond Wench! Polly is most confoundedly bit.--I 
love the Sex. And a Man who loves Money, might as well be contented with 
one Guinea, as I with one Woman. The Town perhaps have been as much obliged 
to me, for recruiting it with free-hearted Ladies, as to any Recruiting 
Officer in the Army. If it were not for us, and the other Gentlemen of the 
Sword, Drury-Lane would be uninhabited.
 
                Air XXI.--Would you have a young Virgin, &c.
 
                If the Heart of a Man is deprest with Cares,
                The Mist is dispell'd when a Woman appears;