you had promis'd
him a Session or two longer without Molestation.

_Lockit._ Mr. _Peachum_-- this is the first time my Honour was ever
call'd in Question.

_Peachum._ Business is at an end-- if once we act dishonourably.

_Lockit._ Who accuses me?

_Peachum._ You are warm, Brother.

_Lockit._ He that attacks my Honour, attacks my Livelihood. --And this
Usage-- Sir-- is not to be borne.

_Peachum._ Since you provoke me to speak-- I must tell you too, that
Mrs. _Coaxer_ charges you with defrauding her of her Information-Money,
for the apprehending of curl-pated _Hugh_. Indeed, indeed, Brother, we
must punctually pay our Spies, or we shall have no Information.

_Lockit._ Is this Language to me, Sirrah,-- who have sav'd you from the
Gallows, Sirrah! [Collaring each other.

_Peachum._ If I am hang'd, it shall be for ridding the World of an
arrant Rascal.

_Lockit._ This Hand shall do the Office of the Halter you deserve, and
throttle you-- you Dog!--

_Peachum._ Brother, Brother-- We are both in the Wrong-- We shall be
both Losers in the Dispute-- for you know we have it in our Power to
hang each other. You should not be so passionate.

_Lockit._ Nor you so provoking.

_Peachum._ 'Tis our mutual Interest; 'tis for the Interest of the World
we should agree. If I said any thing, Brother, to the Prejudice of your
Character, I ask pardon.

_Lockit._ Brother _Peachum_-- I can forgive as well as resent. --Give me
your Hand. Suspicion does not become a Friend.

_Peachum._ I only meant to give you Occasion to justify yourself: But I
must now step home, for I expect the Gentleman about this Snuff-box,
that _Filch_ nimm'd two Nights ago in the Park. I appointed him at this
Hour. [Exit _Peachum_.

Enter _Lucy_.

_Lockit._ Whence come you, Hussy?

_Lucy._ My Tears might answer that Question.

_Lockit._ You have then been whimpering and fondling, like a Spaniel,
over the Fellow that hath abus'd you.

_Lucy._ One can't help Love; one can't cure it. 'Tis not in my Power to
obey you, and hate him.

_Lockit._ Learn to bear your Husband's Death like a reasonable Woman.
'Tis not the fashion, now-a-days, so much as to affect Sorrow upon these
Occasions. No Woman would ever marry, if she had not the Chance of
Mortality for a Release. Act like a Woman of Spirit, Hussy, and thank
your Father for what he is doing.

AIR XXX. Of a noble Race was _Shenkin_.

[Music]

_Lucy._ Is then his Fate decreed, Sir?