BeggarŐs
Opera snippets
1.13
37:00—40:09
If
he keep out of the way, my Papa and Mama may in time relent, and we may be
happy.- ---If he stays, he is hang'd, and then he is lost for ever!- ---He
intended to lie conceal'd in my Room, 'till the Dusk of the Evening: If they
are abroad, I'll this Instant let him out, lest some Accident should prevent
him. [Exit, and returns.]
Scene
13.
POLLY,
MACHEATH
Air
XIV.--Pretty Parrot, say----
MACHEATH.
Pretty
Polly, say,
When I was away,
Did your Fancy never stray
To some newer Lover?
POLLY.
Without
Disguise,
Heaving Sighs,
Doting Eyes,
My constant Heart discover,
Fondly let me loll!
MACHEATH.
O
pretty, pretty Poll.
POLLY.
And are you as fond as ever, my Dear?
MACHEATH.
Suspect my Honour, my Courage, suspect any thing but my Love.- ---May my
Pistols miss Fire {45}, and my Mare slip her Shoulder {46} while I am pursu'd, if I ever forsake thee!
POLLY.
Nay, my Dear, I have no Reason to doubt you, for I find in the Romance you lent
me, none of the great Heroes were ever false in Love.
Air
XV.--Pray, Fair one, be kind----
MACHEATH.
My
Heart was so free,
It rov'd like the Bee,
'Till Polly my Passion
requited;
I sipt each Flower,
I chang'd ev'ry Hour,
But here ev'ry Flow'r is
united.
POLLY.
Were you sentenc'd to Transportation, sure, my Dear, you could not leave me
behind you----could you?
MACHEATH.
Is there any Power, any Force that could tear me from thee? You might sooner
tear a Pension out of the hands of a Courtier, a Fee from a Lawyer, a pretty
Woman from a Looking-glass, or any Woman from Quadrille. ----But to tear me
from thee is impossible!
Air
XVI.--Over the Hills and far away.
Were
I laid on Greenland's Coast,
And in my Arms embrac'd my
Lass;
Warm amidst eternal Frost,
Too soon the Half Year's
Night would pass.
POLLY.
Were
I sold on Indian Soil,
Soon as the burning Day was
clos'd,
I could mock the sultry Toil
When on my Charmer's Breast
repos'd.
And
I would love you all the Day,
POLLY.
Every
Night would kiss and play,
MACHEATH.
If
with me you'd fondly stray
POLLY.
Over
the Hills and far away.
********
2.1--Minutes
44:30—46:50
A
C T I I. SCENE
I
A
Tavern near Newgate.
JEMMY
TWITCHER, CROOK-FINGER'D JACK, WAT DREARY, ROBIN OF BAGSHOT, NIMMING NED, HENRY
PADINGTON, 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 Twelvemonth, and so clever a made
fellow he was, that I could not save him from those fleaing {47} Rascals the Surgeons; and now, poor Man, he is among the
Ottamys {48} at Surgeons Hall.
BEN.
So it seems, his Time was come.
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?
WAT.
Sound Men, and true!
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.
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.
*****
2.3--Minutes
49:25-51:45
MACHEATH,
DRAWER {54}.
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;
Like the Notes of a Fiddle, she sweetly, sweetly
Raises the Spirits, and charms our Ears,
Roses and Lilies her Cheeks disclose,
But her ripe Lips are more sweet than those.
Press her,
Caress her,
With Blisses,
Her Kisses
Dissolve us in Pleasure, and soft Repose.
I
must have Women. There is nothing unbends the Mind like them. Money is not so
strong a Cordial for the Time. Drawer.--[Enter Drawer.] Is the Porter gone for
all the Ladies according to my Directions?
DRAWER.
I expect him back every Minute. But you know, Sir, you sent him as far as
Hockley in the Hole for three of the Ladies, for one in Vinegar- Yard {55} and for the rest of them somewhere about Lewker's Lane {56}. Sure some of them are below, for I hear the Bar-Bell. As
they come I will show them up. Coming, Coming.
****
2.
4 conclusion Minutes 57.14-1:02
MACHEATH.
Have done with your Compliments, Ladies, and drink about: You are not so fond
of me, Jenny, as you use to be.
JENNY.
'Tis not convenient, Sir, to shew my Fondness among so many Rivals. 'Tis your
own Choice, and not the Warmth of my Inclination that will determine you.
AIR
XXIII.--All in a misty Morning, &c.
Before the Barn-Door crowing,
The Cock by Hens attended,
His Eyes around him throwing,
Stands for awhile suspended.
Then one he singles from the Crew,
And cheers the happy Hen;
With how do you do, and how do you do,
And how do you do again.
MACHEATH.
Ah Jenny! thou art a dear Slut.
TRULL.
Pray, Madam, were you ever in keeping {62}?
TAWDRY.
I hope, Madam, I han't been so long upon the Town, but I have met with some
good-fortune as well as my Neighbors.
TRULL.
Pardon me, Madam, I meant no harm by the Question; 'Twas only in the way of
Conversation.
TAWDRY.
Indeed, Madam, if I had not been a Fool, I might have liv'd very handsomely
with my last Friend. But upon his missing five Guineas, he turn'd me off. Now I
never suspected he had counted them.
SLAMMEKIN.
Who do you look upon, Madam, as your best sort of Keepers?
TRULL.
That, Madam, is thereafter as they be.
SLAMMEKIN.
I, Madam, was once kept by a Jew; and bating {63} their Religion, to Women they are a good sort of People.
TAWDRY.
Now for my Part, I own I like an old Fellow: For we always make them pay for
what they can't do.
VIXEN.
A spruce Prentice, let me tell you Ladies, is no ill thing, they bleed freely.
I have sent at least two or three Dozen of them in my time to the Plantations {64}.
JENNY.
But to be sure, Sir, with so much Good-fortune as you have had upon the Road,
you must be grown immensely rich.
MACHEATH.
The Road, indeed, hath done me Justice, but the Gaming-Table hath been my Ruin.
AIR
XXIV.--When once I lay with another Man's Wife, &c.
JENNY.
The Gamesters and Lawyers are Jugglers alike,
If they meddle, your all is in Danger.
Like Gypsies, if once they can finger a Souse{65},
Your Pockets they pick, and they pilfer your House
And give your Estate to a Stranger.
A
Man of Courage should never put any thing to the Risque but his Life. These are
the Tools of a Man of Honour. Cards and Dice are fit only for cowardly Cheats,
who prey upon their Friends.
[She
takes up his Pistol. Tawdry takes up the other.]
TAWDRY.
This, Sir, is fitter for your Hand. Besides your loss of Money, 'tis a loss to
the Ladies. Gaming takes you off from Women. How fond could I be of you! But
before Company 'tis ill bred.
MACHEATH.
Wanton Hussies!
JENNY.
I must and will have a Kiss to give my Wine a Zest.
[They
take him about the Neck and make signs to Peachum and Constables {66}, who rush in upon him.]
Scene
5.
To
them, PEACHUM and Constables.
PEACHUM.
I seize you, Sir, as my Prisoner.
MACHEATH.
Was this well done {67}, Jenny?----Women are Decoy Ducks; who can trust them!
Beasts, Jades, Jilts, Harpies, Furies, Whores!
PEACHUM.
Your Case, Mr. MACHEATH, is not particular. The greatest Heroes have been
ruin'd by Women. But, to do them Justice, I must own they are a pretty sort of
Creatures, if we could trust them. You must now, Sir, take your Leave of the
Ladies, and if they have a mind to make you a Visit, they will be sure to find
you at home. This Gentleman, Ladies, lodges in Newgate. Constables, wait upon
the Captain to his Lodgings