_Polly_. But my Papa may intercept thee, and then I should lose the very glimmering of Hope. A few Weeks, perhaps, may reconcile us all. Shall thy _Polly_ hear from thee?
_Polly_. And will not Absence change your Love?
_Macheath_. If you doubt it, let me stay—and be hang’d.
_Polly_. O how I fear! how I tremble!—Go—but when Safety will give you leave, you will be sure to see me again; for ’till then _Polly_ is wretched.
Macheath. _The Miser thus a Shilling sees_, _Which he’s oblig’d to pay_, _With sighs resigns it by degrees_, _And fears ’tis gone for ay_.
[Parting, and looking back at each other with fondness; he at one Door, she at the other.]
Polly. _The Boy_, _thus_, _when his Sparrow’s flown_, _The Bird in Silence eyes_; _But soon as out of Sight ’tis gone_, _Whines_, _whimpers_, _sobs and cries_.
Jemmy Twitcher, Crook-finger’d Jack, Wat Dreary, Robin of Bagshot, Nimming Ned, Henry Paddington, Matt of the Mint, Ben Budge, _and the rest of the Gang_, _at the Table_, _with Wine_, _Brandy and Tobacco_.
_Ben_. But pr’ythee, _Matt_, what is become of thy Brother _Tom_? I have not seen him since my Return from Transportation.
_Matt_. Poor Brother _Tom_ had an Accident this time Twelve-month, and so clever a made fellow he was, that I could not save him from those fleaing Rascals the Surgeons; and now, poor Man, he is among the Otamys at _Surgeons Hall_.
_Jemmy_. But the present Time is ours, and no body alive hath more. Why are the Laws levell’d at us? are we more dishonest than the rest of Mankind? What we win, Gentlemen, is our own by the Law of Arms, and the Right of Conquest.
_Crook_. Where shall we find such another Set of Practical Philosophers, who to a Man are above the Fear of Death?
_Robin_. Of try’d Courage, and indefatigable Industry!
_Ned_. Who is there here that would not die for his Friend?
_Harry_. Who is there here that would betray him for his Interest?
_Matt_. Shew 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?