Dame Tiller discovered washing; she takes out of her tub a veil, and a pair of small socks, which she hangs on the line, sighs, and regards them sorrowfully.
Dame. Tubby or not tubby—there’s the rub,
Whether I shall get anything to scrub,
Or, overcome by all my numerous troubles,
Dive headlong down into that sea of bubbles;
As to my bus’ness it is something shockin’,
Of stockings I’ve got but that small stock in.
People won’t send their things, complaining (bosh)
That, like King John, they’d lost them in the Wash.
I used to do for schools, and so it follers