The Youth in his Cart hath the Air of a Lord,
And we cry, There dies an Adonis!

But really, Husband, you should not be too hard-hearted, for you
never had a finer, braver set of Men than at present. We have not
had a Murder among them all, these seven Months. And truly, my Dear,
that is a great Blessing.

PEACHUM. What a dickens is the Woman always a whimpring about Murder
for? No Gentleman is ever look'd upon the worse for killing a Man in
his own Defence; and if Business cannot be carried on without it,
what would you have a Gentleman do?

MRS. PEACHUM. If I am in the wrong, my Dear, you must excuse me, for
no body can help the Frailty of an over-scrupulous Conscience.

PEACHUM. Murder is as fashionable a Crime as a Man can be guilty of.
How many fine Gentlemen have we in Newgate every Year, purely upon
that Article! If they have wherewithal to persuade the Jury to bring
it in Manslaughter, what are they the worse for it? So, my Dear,
have done upon this Subject. Was Captain Macheath here this Morning,
for the Bank-Notes he left with you last Week?

MRS. PEACHUM. Yes, my Dear; and though the Bank hath stopt Payment,
he was so chearful and so agreeable! Sure there is not a finer
Gentleman upon the Road than the Captain! if he comes from Bagshot at
any reasonable Hour, he hath promis'd to make one this Evening with
Polly and me, and Bob Booty at a Party of Quadrille. Pray, my Dear,
is the Captain rich?