 | The Tragedy of Tragedies ; Or The Life and Death of Tom Thumb the Great |  |
SCENE V.
Grizzle, Huncamunca.Griz.
Oh Huncamunca, Huncamunca, oh,
Thy pouting Breasts, like Kettle-Drums of Brass,
Beat everlasting loud Alarms of Joy;
As bright as Brass they are, and oh, as hard;
Oh Huncamunca, Huncamunca! oh!
Hunc.
Ha! do'st thou know me, Princess as I am,
That thus of me you dare to make your Game.
27
Oh Huncamunca, well I know that you
A Princess are, and a King's Daughter too.
But Love no Meanness scorns, no Grandeur fears,
Love often Lords into the Cellar bears,
And bids the sturdy Porter come up Stairs.
For what's too high for Love, or what's too low?
Oh Huncamunca, Huncamunca, oh!
Hunc.
But granting all you say of Love were true,
My Love, alas! is to another due!
In vain to me, a Suitoring you come;
For I'm already promis'd to Tom Thumb.
Griz.
And can my Princess such a Durgen wed,
One fitter for your Pocket than your Bed!
Advis'd by me, the worthless Baby shun,
Or you will ne'er be brought to bed of one.
Oh take me to thy Arms and never flinch,
Who am a Man by Jupiter ev'ry Inch.
Then while in Joys together lost we lie
I'll press thy Soul while Gods stand wishing by.
Hunc.
If, Sir, what you insinuate you prove
All Obstacles of Promise you remove;
For all Engagements to a Man must fall,
Whene'er that Man is prov'd no Man at all.
Griz.
Oh let him seek some Dwarf, some fairy Miss,
Where no Joint-stool must lift him to the Kiss.
But by the Stars and Glory, you appear
Much fitter for a Prussian Grenadier;
One Globe alone, on Atlas Shoulders rests,
Two Globes are less than Huncamunca's Breasts:
The Milky-way is not so white, that's flat,
And sure thy Breasts are full as large as that.
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Oh, Sir, so strong your Eloquence I find,
It is impossible to be unkind.
Griz.
Ah! speak that o'er again, and let the Sound
From one Pole to another Pole rebound;
The Earth and Sky, each be a Battledoor
And keep the Sound, that Shuttlecock, up an Hour;
To Doctors Commons, for a License I,
Swift as an Arrow from a Bow will fly.
Hunc.
Oh no! lest some Disaster we should meet,
'Twere better to be marry'd at the Fleet.
Griz.
Forbid it, all ye Powers, a Princess should
By that vile Place, contaminate her Blood;
My quick Return shall to my Charmer prove,
I travel on the Post-Horses of Love.
Hunc.
Those Post-Horses to me will seem too slow,
Tho' they should fly swift as the Gods, when they
Ride on behind that Post-Boy, Opportunity.
This beautiful Line, which ought, says Mr. W--- to be written in Gold, is imitated in the New Sophonisba;
Oh! Sophonisba, Sophonisba, oh!Oh! Narva, Narva, oh!
The Author of a Song call'd Duke upon Duke, hath improv'd it.
Alas! O Nick, O Nick, alas!Where, by the help of a little false Spelling, you have two Meanings in the repeated Words.
Edith, in the Bloody Brother, speaks to her Lover in the same familiar Language.
Your Grace is full of Game.
Traverse the glitt'ring Chambers of the Sky,
Born on a Cloud in view of Fate I'll lie,
And press her Soul while Gods stand wishing by.
Hannibal.
Born on a Cloud in view of Fate I'll lie,
And press her Soul while Gods stand wishing by.
Hannibal.
| The Tragedy of Tragedies ; Or The Life and Death of Tom Thumb the Great | |