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_Macheath._
AIR XIV. Pretty Parrot, say--
[Music]
_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, and my Mare slip her Shoulder 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--
[Music]
_Macheath._ My Heart was so free, It rov'd like the Bee, 'Till _Polly_ my Pa.s.sion requited; I sipt each Flower, I chang'd every Hour, But here every Flower 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-gla.s.s, or any Woman from Quadrille. --But to tear me from thee is impossible!
AIR XVI. Over the Hills and far away.
[Music]
Were I laid on _Greenland's_ Coast, And in my Arms embrac'd my La.s.s; Warm amidst eternal Frost, Too soon the Half Year's Night would pa.s.s.
_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.
_Macheath._ 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.
_Polly._ Yes, I would go with thee. But oh! --how shall I speak it?
I must be torn from thee. We must part.
_Macheath._ How! Part!
_Polly._ We must, we must. --My Papa and Mama are set against thy Life.
They now, even now are in Search after thee. They are preparing Evidence against thee. Thy Life depends upon a moment.
AIR XVII. Gin thou wert mine awn thing--
[Music]
Oh what Pain it is to part!
Can I leave thee, can I leave thee?
O what pain it is to part!
Can thy _Polly_ ever leave thee?
But lest Death my Love should thwart, And bring thee to the fatal Cart, Thus I tear thee from my bleeding Heart!
Fly hence, and let me leave thee.
One Kiss and then-- one Kiss-- be gone-- farewel.
_Macheath._ My Hand, my Heart, my Dear, is so riveted to thine, that I cannot unloose my Hold.
_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?
_Macheath._ Must I then go?
_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.
AIR XVIII. O the Broom, &c.
[Music]
_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.
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