The Tragedy of Tragedies ; Or The Life and Death of Tom Thumb the Great

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.
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.

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 Heav'n.

Also in Sebastian.

This Hour my Lot is weighing in the Scales.

University of Virginia Library

SCENE VI.