Would I might be hang’d! Polly. Would I might be hang’d! And I would so too! Lucy. To be hang’d with you.

Then our Cases, my dear Polly, are exactly alike. Both of us indeed have been too fond.

Jealousy, Rage, Love and Fear are at once tearing me to pieces, How I am weather-beaten and shatter’d with Distresses!

But I promis’d the Wench Marriage—What signifies a Promise to a Woman? Does not Man in Marriage itself promise a hundred things that he never means to perform? Do all we can, Women will believe us;

’Tis not convenient, Sir, to shew my Fondness among so many Rivals

Macheath.

My Hand, my Heart, my Dear, is so riveted to thine, that I cannot unloose my Hold.

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!

Those cursed Play-Books she reads have been her Ruin

But Money, Wife, is the true Fuller’s Earth for Reputations

The Girl shews such a Readiness, and so much Concern, that I could almost find in my Heart to forgive her.