Whose Treasure is contreband.
The Waves are laid,
My Duty's paid.
O Joy beyond Expression!
Thus, safe a-shore,
I ask no more,
My All is in my Possession.

PEACHUM. I hear Customers in t'other Room: Go, talk with 'em,
Polly; but come to us again, as soon as they are gone.--But, hark ye,
Child, if 'tis the Gentleman who was here Yesterday about the
Repeating Watch; say, you believe we can't get Intelligence of it
'till to-morrow. For I lent it to Suky Straddle, to make a figure
with it to-night at a Tavern in Drury-Lane. If t'other Gentleman
calls for the Silver-hilted Sword; you know Beetle-brow'd Jemmy hath
it on, and he doth not come from Tunbridge 'till Tuesday Night; so
that it cannot be had 'till then.

[Exit Polly.]

PEACHUM. Dear Wife, be a little pacified, Don't let your Passion run
away with your Senses. Polly, I grant you, hath done a rash thing.

MRS. PEACHUM. If she had only an Intrigue with the Fellow, why the
very best Families have excus'd and huddled up a Frailty of that
sort. 'Tis Marriage, Husband, that makes it a Blemish.

PEACHUM. But Money, Wife, is the true Fuller's Earth for
Reputations, there is not a Spot or a Stain but what it can take out.
A rich Rogue now-a-days is fit Company for any Gentleman; and the