The Beggar's Opera Part 5

_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 s.h.i.+lling 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration]