 | The Beggar's Opera |  |
Scene 13. The Condemn'd Hold
MACHEATH, in a melancholy Posture.Air LVIII.—Happy Groves.
O cruel, cruel, cruel Case!Must I suffer this Disgrace?
Air LIX.—Of all the Girls that are so smart.
Of all the Friends in time of Grief,When threatening Death looks grimmer,
Not one so sure can bring Relief,
As this best Friend, a Brimmer.
Air LX.—Britons strike home.
Since I must swing,—I scorn, I scorn, to wince or whine.Air LXI.—Chevy Chase.
But now again my Spirits sink;I'll raise them high with Wine.
Air LXII.—To old Sir Simon the King.
But Valour the stronger grows,The stronger Liquor we're drinking;
And how can we feel our Woes
When we've lost the Trouble of Thinking?
Air LXIII.—Joy to Great Caesar.
If thus—A Man can dieMuch bolder with Brandy.
Air LXIV.—There was an old Woman.
So I drink off this Bumper.—And now I can stand the Test.And my Comrades shall see, that I die as brave as the Best.
Air LXV.—Did you ever hear of a gallant Sailor.
But can I leave my pretty Hussies,Without one Tear, or tender Sigh?
Air LXVI.—Why are mine Eyes still flowing.
Their Eyes, their Lips, their BussesRecall my Love,—Ah must I die!
Air LXVII.—Green Sleeves.
Since Laws were made for ev'ry Degree,To curb Vice in others, as well as me,
I wonder we han't better Company,
Upon Tyburn Tree106!
But Gold from Law can take out the Sting;
And if rich Men like us were to swing,
'Twould thin the Land, such Numbers to string
Upon Tyburn Tree!
JAILOR.
Some Friends of yours, Captain, desire to be admitted—I leave you together.
| The Beggar's Opera | |