 | The Tragedy of Tragedies ; Or The Life and Death of Tom Thumb the Great |  |
22
SCENE III.
The Princess Huncamunca's Apartment.Huncamunca, Cleora, Mustacha.
Hunc.
Give me some Musick—see that it be sad.
Cleora
sings.
[I.]
1
Cupid, ease a Love-sick Maid,Bring thy Quiver to her Aid;
With equal Ardor wound the Swain:
Beauty should never sigh in vain.
II.
2
Let him feel the pleasing Smart,Drive thy Arrow thro' his Heart;
When One you wound, you then destroy;
When Both you kill, you kill with Joy.
Hunc.
O, Tom Thumb! Tom Thumb! wherefore art thou Tom Thumb?
Why had'st thou not been born of Royal Race?
Why had not mighty Bantam been thy Father?
Or else the King of Brentford, Old or New?
Must.
I am surpriz'd that your Highness can give your
self a Moment's Uneasiness about that little insignificant
Fellow,
Tom Thumb the Great—One properer
for a Play-thing, than a Husband.—Were he my
Husband, his Horns should be as long as his Body.—
23
not have wonder'd at it—If you had fallen in Love with
Something; but to fall in Love with Nothing!
Hunc.
Cease, my Mustacha, on thy Duty cease.
The Zephyr, when in flowry Vales it plays,
Is not so soft, so sweet as Thummy's Breath.
The Dove is not so gentle to its Mate.
Must.
The Dove is every bit as proper for a Husband
—Alas! Madam, there's not a Beau about the
Court looks so little like a Man—He is a perfect Butterfly,
a Thing without Substance, and almost without
Shadow too.
Hunc.
This Rudeness is unseasonable, desist;
Or, I shall think this Railing comes from Love.
Tom Thumb's a Creature of that charming Form,
That no one can abuse, unless they love him.
Must.
Madam, the King.
| The Tragedy of Tragedies ; Or The Life and Death of Tom Thumb the Great | |