Chapter 28

_Queen_ (_sola_). And whither shall I go?--Alack a day! I love Tom Thumb--but must not tell him so; For what's a woman when her virtue's gone? A coat without its lace; wig out of buckle; A stocking with a hole in't--I can't live Without my virtue, or without Tom Thumb. [1] Then let me weigh them in two equal scales; In this scale put my virtue, that Tom Thumb. Alas! Tom Thumb is heavier than my virtue. But hold!--perhaps I may be left a widow: This match prevented, then Tom Thumb is mine; In that dear hope I will forget my pain.

So, when some wench to Tothill Bridewell's sent, With beating hemp and flogging she's content; She hopes in time to ease her present pain, At length is free, and walks the streets again.

[Footnote 1: We meet with such another pair of scales in Dryden's King Arthur:

Arthur and Oswald, and their different fates, Are weighing now within the scales of heaven.

Also in Sebastian:

This hour my lot is weighing in the scales. ]