 | The Tragedy of Tragedies ; Or The Life and Death of Tom Thumb the Great |  |
SCENE VI.
King, Queen, Huncamunca, Noodle.King.
See where the Princess comes! Where is Tom Thumb?
Hunc.
Oh! Sir, about an Hour and half ago
He fallied out to encounter with the Foe,
And swore, unless his Fate had him mis-led,
From Grizzle's Shoulders to cut off his Head,
And serve't up with your Chocolate in Bed.
King.
'Tis well, I find one Devil told us both.
Come, Dollallolla, Huncamunca, come,
Within we'll wait for the victorious Thumb;
In Peace and Safety we secure may stay,
While to his Arm we trust the bloody Fray;
He is alone equal to all these Odds.
Queen.
He is indeed, a Helmet to us all,
While he supports, we need not fear to fall;
His Arm dispatches all things to our Wish,
And serves up every Foe's Head in a Dish.
Void is the Mistress of the House of Care,
Whether the Cod, that Northern King of Fish,
Or Duck, or Goose, or Pig, adorn the Dish;
No Fears the Number of her Guests afford,
But at her Hour she sees the Dinner on the Board.
Credat Judæus Appelles
Non ego—(Says Mr. D.)—For, passing over the Absurdity of being equal to Odds, can we possibly suppose a little insignificant Fellow—I say again, a little insignificant Fellow able to vie with a Strength which all the Sampsons and Hercules's of Antiquity would be unable to encounter.
I shall refer this incredulous Critick to Mr. Dryden's Defence of his Almanzor; and lest that should not satisfy him, I shall quote a few Lines from the Speech of a much braver Fellow than Almanzor, Mr. Johnson's Achilles;
Tho' Human Race rise in embattel'd Hosts,To force her from my Arms—Oh! Son of Atreus!
By that immortal Pow'r, whose deathless Spirit
Informs this Earth, I will oppose them all.
Victim.
I have heard of being supported by a Staff (says Mr. D.) but never of being supported by an Helmet. I believe he never heard of Sailing with Wings, which he may read in no less a Poet than Mr. Dryden;
Unless we borrow Wings, and sail thro' Air.Love Triumphant.
What will he say to a kneeling Valley?
—I'll standLike a safe Valley, that low bends the Knee,
To some aspiring Mountain.
Injur'd Love.
I am asham'd of so ignorant a Carper, who doth not know that an Epithet in Tragedy is very often no other than an Expletive. Do not we read in the New Sophonisba of grinding Chains, blue Plagues, white Occasions, and blue Serenity? Nay, 'tis not the Adjective only, but sometimes half a Sentence is put by way of Expletive, as, Beauty pointed high with Spirit, in the same Play—and, In the Lap of Blessing, to be most curst. In the Revenge.
| The Tragedy of Tragedies ; Or The Life and Death of Tom Thumb the Great | |