SCENE IX.

TOM THUMB, HUNCAMUNCA, PARSON.

_Par._ Happy's the wooing that's not long a-doing; For, if I guess right, Tom Thumb this night Shall give a being to a new Tom Thumb.

_Thumb._ It shall be my endeavour so to do.

_Hunc._ Oh! fie upon you, sir, you make me blush.

_Thumb._ It is the virgin's sign, and suits you well: I know not where, nor how, nor what I am;[150] I'm so transported, I have lost myself.[151]

_Hunc._ Forbid it, all ye stars, for you're so small, That were you lost, you'd find yourself no more. So the unhappy sempstress once, they say, Her needle in a pottle, lost, of hay; In vain she look'd, and look'd, and made her moan. For ah, the needle was for ever gone.

_Par._ Long may they live, and love, and propagate, Till the whole land be peopled with Tom Thumbs! So, when the Cheshire cheese a maggot breeds,[152] Another and another still succeeds: By thousands and ten thousands they increase, Till one continued maggot fills the rotten cheese.