 | The Beggar's Opera |  |
Scene 7, Newgate.
LUCY.Jealousy, Rage, Love and Fear are at once tearing me to pieces, How am I weather-beaten and shatter'd with Distresses!
Air XLVII.—One Evening, having lost my Way, &c.
I'm like a Skiff102 on the Ocean tost,Now high, now low, with each Billow born,
With her Rudder broke, and her Anchor lost,
Deserted and all forlorn.
While thus I lie rolling and tossing all Night,
That Polly lies sporting on seas of Delight!
Revenge, Revenge, Revenge,
Shall appease my restless Sprite.
I have the Rats-bane103 ready.—I run no Risque; for I can lay her Death upon the Ginn, and so many die of that naturally that I shall never be call'd in question.—But say, I were to be hang'd.—I never could be hang'd for any thing that would give me greater Comfort, than the poisoning that Slut.
Enter FILCH.
FILCH.
Madam, here's Miss Polly come to wait upon you.
LUCY.
Show her in.
| The Beggar's Opera | |