 | The Tragedy of Tragedies ; Or The Life and Death of Tom Thumb the Great |  |
ACT I.
SCENE I.
SCENE, The Palace.Doodle, Noodle.
Doodle.
Sure, such a Day as this was never seen!
The Sun himself, on this auspicious Day,
Shines, like a Beau in a new Birth-Day Suit:
All Nature wears one universal Grin.
Nood.
This Day, O Mr. Doodle, is a Day
Indeed, a Day we never saw before.
The mighty Thomas Thumb victorious comes;
Millions of Giants crowd his Chariot Wheels,
Giants! to whom the Giants in Guild-hall
While Thumb regardless of their Noise rides on.
So some Cock-Sparrow in a Farmer's Yard,
Hops at the Head of an huge Flock of Turkeys.
Dood.
When Goody Thumb first brought this Thomas forth,
The Genius of our Land triumphant reign'd;
Then, then, Oh Arthur! did thy Genius reign.
Nood.
They tell me it is whisper'd in the Books
By Merlin's Art begot, hath not a Bone
Within his Skin, but is a Lump of Gristle.
Dood.
Then 'tis a Gristle of no mortal kind,
Some God, my Noodle, stept into the Place
Of Gaffer Thumb, and more than half begot,
This mighty Tom.
Nood.
— Sure he was sent Express
From Heav'n, to be the Pillar of our State.
Tho' small his Body be, so very small,
A Chairman's Leg is more than twice as large;
Yet is his Soul like any Mountain big,
And as a Mountain once brought forth a Mouse,
So doth this Mouse contain a mighty Mountain.
Mountain indeed! So terrible his Name,
The Giant Nurses frighten Children with it;
And cry Tom Thumb is come, and if you are
Naughty, will surely take the Child away.
Nood.
But hark! these Trumpets speak the King's Approach.
Dood.
He comes most luckily for my Petition.
Flourish.
Corneille recommends some very remarkable Day, wherein to fix the Action of a Tragedy. This the best of our Tragical Writers have understood to mean a Day remarkable for the Serenity of the Sky, or what we generally call a fine Summer's Day: So that according to this their Exposition, the same Months are proper for Tragedy, which are proper for Pastoral. Most of our celebrated English Tragedies, as Cato, Mariamne, Tamerlane, &c. begin with their Observations on the Morning. Lee seems to have come the nearest to this beautiful Description of our Authors;
The Morning dawns with an unwonted Crimson,The Flowers all odorous seem, the Garden Birds
Sing louder, and the laughing Sun ascends,
The gaudy Earth with an unusual brightness,
All Nature smiles.
Cæs. Borg.
Massinissa in the new Sophonisba is also a Favourite of the Sun;
—The Sun too seemsAs conscious of my Joy with broader Eye
To look abroad the World, and all things smile
Like Sophonisba.
Memnon in the Persian Princess, makes the Sun decline rising, that he may not peep on Objects, which would prophane his Brightness.
—The Morning rises slow,And all those ruddy Streaks that us'd to paint
The Days Approach, are lost in Clouds as if
The Horrors of the Night had sent 'em back,
To warn the Sun, he should not leave the Sea,
To Peep, &c.
This Line is highly conformable to the beautiful Simplicity of the Antients. It hath been copied by almost every Modern,
Not to be is not to be in Woe.State of Innocence. Love is not Sin but where 'tis sinful Love.
Don Sebastian. Nature is Nature, Lælius.
Sophonisba. Men are but Men, we did not make our selves.
Revenge.
Dr. B---y reads the mighty Tall-mast Thumb. Mr. D---s the mighty Thumping Thumb. Mr. T---d reads Thundering. I think Thomas more agreeable to the great Simplicity so apparent in our Author.
That learned Historian Mr. S---n in the third Number of his Criticism on our Author, takes great Pains to explode this Passage. It is, says he, difficult to guess what Giants are here meant, unless the Giant Despair in the Pilgrim's Progress, or the Giant Greatness in the Royal Villain; for I have heard of no other sort of Giants in the Reign of King Arthur. Petrus Burmanus makes three Tom Thumbs, one whereof he supposes to have been the same Person whom the Greeks called Hercules, and that by these Giants are to be understood the Centaurs slain by that Heroe. Another Tom Thumb he contends to have been no other than the Hermes Trismegistus of the Antients. The third Tom Thumb he places under the Reign of King Arthur, to which third Tom Thumb, says he, the Actions of the other two were attributed. Now tho' I know that this Opinion is supported by an Assertion of Justus Lipsius, Thomam illum Thumbum non alium quam Herculem fuisse satis constat; yet shall I venture to oppose one Line of Mr. Midwinter, against them all,
In Arthur's Court Tom Thumb did live.But then, says Dr. B---y, if we place Tom Thumb in the Court of King Arthur, it will be proper to place that Court out of Britain, where no Giants were ever heard of. Spencer, in his Fairy Queen, is of another Opinion, where describing Albion he says,
—Far within a salvage Nation dweltOf hideous Giants.
And in the same Canto,
Then Elfar, who two Brethren Giants had,The one of which had two Heads—
The other three.
Risum teneatis, Amici.
To Whisper in Books says Mr. D---s is errant Nonsense. I am afraid this learned Man does not sufficiently understand the extensive meaning of the Word Whisper. If he he had rightly understood what is meant by the Senses Whisp'ring the Soul in the Persian Princess, or what Whisp'ring like Winds is in Aurengzebe, or like Thunder in another Author, he would have understood this. Emmeline in Dryden sees a Voice, but she was born blind, which is an Excuse Panthea cannot plead in Cyrus, who hears a sight.
—Your Description will surpass,All Fiction, Painting, or dumb Shew of Horror,
That ever Ears yet heard, or Eyes beheld.
When Mr. D---s understands these he will undestand Whisp'ring in Books.
Omne majus continet in se minus, sed minus non in se majus continere potest, says Scaliger in Thumbo.—I suppose he would have cavilled at these beautiful Lines in the Earl of Essex;
—Thy most inveterate Soul,That looks through the foul Prison of thy Body.
And at those of Dryden,
The Palace is without too well design'd,Conduct me in, for I will view thy Mind.
Aurengzebe.
Mr. Banks hath copied this almost Verbatim,
And Nurses still'd their Children with the fright.
E. of Essex.
The Trumpet in a Tragedy is generally as much as to say enter King: Which makes Mr. Banks in one of his Plays call it the Trumpet's formal Sound.
SCENE II.
King, Queen, Grizzle, Noodle, Doodle, Foodle.King.
Let nothing but a Face of Joy appear;
The Man who frowns this Day shall lose his Head,
That he may have no Face to frown withal.
Smile, Dollalolla—Ha! what wrinkled Sorrow,
Hangs, sits, lies, frowns upon thy knitted Brow?
Like a swoln Gutter, gushing through the Streets?
Queen.
Excess of Joy, my Lord, I've heard Folks say,
Gives Tears as certain as Excess of Grief.
King.
If it be so, let all Men cry for Joy,
'Till my whole Court be drowned with their Tears;
Nay, till they overflow my utmost Land,
And leave me Nothing but the Sea to rule.
My Liege, I a Petition have here got.
King.
Petition me no Petitions, Sir, to-day;
Let other Hours be set apart for Business.
To-day it is our Pleasure to be drunk,
And this our Queen shall be as drunk as We.
Queen.
(Tho' I already half Seas over am)
If the capacious Goblet overflow
With Arrack-Punch—'fore George! I'll see it out;
Of Rum, and Brandy, I'll not taste a Drop.
King.
Tho' Rack, in Punch, Eight Shillings be a Quart,
And Rum and Brandy be no more than Six,
Rather than quarrel, you shall have your Will.
[Trumpets.
But, ha! the Warrior comes; the Great Tom Thumb;
The little Hero, Giant-killing Boy,
Preserver of my Kingdom, is arrived.
Phraortes in the Captives seems to have been acquainted with King Arthur.
Proclaim a Festival for seven Days space,Let the Court shine in all its Pomp and Lustre,
Let all our Streets resound with Shouts of Joy;
Let Musick's Care-dispelling Voice be heard,
The sumptuous Banquet, and the flowing Goblet
Shall warm the Cheek, and fill the Heart with Gladness.
Astarbe shall sit Mistress of the Feast.
Sophonisba. Hung on his clouded Brow, I mark'd Despair.
Ibid. —A sullen Gloom,
Scowls on his Brow.
Busiris.
Behold these Tears sprung from fresh Pain and Joy.
E. of Essex.
These Floods are very frequent in the Tragick Authors.
Near to some murmuring Brook I'll lay me down,Whose Waters if they should too shallow flow,
My Tears shall swell them up till I drown.
Lee's Sophonisba. Pouring forth Tears at such a lavish Rate,
That were the World on Fire, they might have drown'd
The Wrath of Heav'n, and quench'd the mighty Ruin.
Mithridates.
One Author changes the Waters of Grief to those of Joy,
—These Tears that sprung from Tides of Grief,Are now augmented to a Flood of Joy.
Cyrus the Great.
Another,
Turns all the Streams of Hate, and makes them flowIn Pity's Channel.
Royal Villain.
One drowns himself,
—Pity like a Torrent pours me down,Now I am drowning all within a Deluge.
Anna Bullen.
Cyrus drowns the whole World,
Our swellin GriefShall melt into a Deluge, and the World
Shall drown in Tears.
Cyrus the Great.
An Expression vastly beneath the Dignity of Tragedy, says Mr. D---s, yet we find the Word he cavils at in the Mouth of Mithridates less properly used and applied to a more terrible Idea;
I would be drunk with Death.Mithrid.
The Author of the New Sophonisba taketh hold of this Monosyllable, and uses it pretty much to the same purpose,
The Carthaginian Sword with Roman BloodWas drunk.
I would ask Mr. D---s which gives him the best Idea, a drunken King, or a drunken Sword?
Mr. Tate dresses up King Arthur's Resolution in Heroicks,
Merry, my Lord, o'th' Captain's Humour right,I am resolv'd to be dead drunk to Night.
Lee also uses this charming Word;
Love's the Drunkenness of the Mind.Gloriana.
SCENE III.
Tom Thumb, to them with Officers, Prisoners, and Attendants.King.
Oh! welcome most, most welcome to my Arms,
What Gratitude can thank away the Debt,
Your Valour lays upon me.
Queen.
— Oh! ye Gods!
[Aside.
Thumb.
When I'm not thank'd at all, I'm thank'd enough,
I've done my Duty, and I've done no more.
Queen.
Was ever such a Godlike Creature seen!
[Aside.
King.
Thy Modesty's a Candle to thy Merit,
It shines itself, and shews thy Merit too.
But say, my Boy, where did'st thou leave the Giants?
Thumb.
My Liege, without the Castle Gates they stand,
The Castle Gates too low for their Admittance.
King.
What look they like?
Thumb.
Like Nothing but Themselves.
Queen.
And sure thou art like nothing but thy Self.
King.
Enough! the vast Idea fills my Soul.
[Aside.
I see them, yes, I see them now before me.
The monst'rous, ugly, barb'rous Sons of Whores.
So perfect, that it seems to have been drawn
By all the Gods in Council: So fair she is,
That surely at her Birth the Council paus'd,
And then at length cry'd out, This is a Woman!
Thumb.
Then were the Gods mistaken.—She is not
A Woman, but a Giantess—whom we
With much ado, have made a shift to hawl
Within the Town: for she is by a Foot,
Shorter than all her Subject Giants were.
Glum.
We yesterday were both a Queen and Wife,
One hundred thousand Giants own'd our Sway,
Queen.
Oh! happy State of Giantism—where Husbands
Like Mushrooms grow, whilst hapless we are forc'd
To be content, nay, happy thought with one.
Glum.
But then to lose them all in one black Day,
That the same Sun, which rising, saw me wife
To Twenty Giants, setting, should behold
Me widow'd of them all.— My worn out Heart,
That Ship, leaks fast, and the great heavy Lading,
My Soul, will quickly sink.
Queen.
—Madam, believe,
I view your Sorrows with a Woman's Eye;
But learn to bear them with what Strength you may,
To-morrow we will have our Grenadiers
Drawn out before you, and you then shall chose
What Husbands you think fit.
Glum.
— Madam, I am
Your most obedient, and most humble Servant.
King.
Think, mighty Princess, think this Court your own,
Nor think the Landlord me, this House my Inn;
Call for whate'er you will, you'll Nothing pay.
I feel a sudden Pain within my Breast,
Or only the Wind-Cholick. Time must shew.
Oh Thumb! What do we to thy Valour owe?
Ask some Reward, great as we can bestow.
Thumb.
I ask not Kingdoms, I can conquer those,
I ask not Money, Money I've enough;
For what I've done, and what I mean to do,
For Giants slain, and Giants yet unborn,
Which I will slay—if this be call'd a Debt,
Take my Receipt in full—I ask but this,
To Sun my self in Huncamunca's Eyes.
King.
Prodigious bold Request.
[Aside.
Queen.
— Be still my Soul.
[Aside.
Thumb.
My Heart is at the Threshold of your Mouth,
I've try'd, to Reason's Tune, to tune my Soul,
But Love did overwind and crack the String.
Tho' Jove in Thunder had cry'd out, You Shan't,
I should have lov'd her still—for oh strange fate,
Then when I lov'd her least, I lov'd her most.
King.
It is resolv'd—the Princess is your own.
Thumb.
Oh! happy, happy, happy, happy, Thumb!
Queen.
Consider, Sir, reward your Soldiers Merit,
But give not Huncamunca to Tom Thumb.
King.
Tom Thumb! Odzooks, my wide extended Realm
Knows not a Name so glorious as Tom Thumb.
Let Macedonia, Alexander boast,
Let Rome her Cæsar's and her Scipio's show,
Her Messieurs France, let Holland boast Mynheers,
Ireland her O's , her Mac's let Scotland boast,
Let England boast no other than Tom Thumb.
Queen.
Tho' greater yet his boasted Merit was,
He shall not have my Daughter, that is Pos'.
King.
Ha! sayst thou Dollalolla?
Queen.
—I say he shan't.
King.
Then by our Royal Self we swear you lye:
Queen.
Who but a Dog, who but a Dog,
Would use me as thou dost. Me, who have lain
But I will be reveng'd. I'll hang my self,
Then tremble all who did this Match persuade,
For riding on a Cat, from high I'll fall,
And squirt down Royal Vengeance on you all.
Food.
Her Majesty the Queen is in a Passion.
King.
Be she, or be she not—I'll to the Girl
And pave thy Way, oh Thumb—Now, by our self,
We were indeed a pretty King of Clouts,
To truckle to her Will—For when by Force
Or Art the Wife her Husband over-reaches,
Give him the Peticoat, and her the Breeches.
Thumb.
Echoes repeat, that Huncamunca's mine!
The dreadful Bus'ness of the War is o'er,
And Beauty, heav'nly Beauty! crowns my Toils,
I've thrown the bloody Garment now aside,
And Hymeneal Sweets invite my Bride.
Hath through dark Paths pursu'd the sooty Way,
At Night, to wash his Hands and Face he flies,
And in his t'other Shirt with his Brickdusta lies.
This Figure is in great use among the Tragedians;
'Tis therefore, therefore 'tis.Victim. I long repent, repent and long again.
Busiris.
We find a Candlestick for this Candle in two celebrated Authors;
—Each Star withdrawsHis golden Head and burns within the Socket.
Nero. A Soul grown old and sunk into the Socket.
Sebastian.
Mr. Lee hath stolen this Thought from our Author;
—This perfect Face, drawn by the Gods in Council,Which they were long a making.
Lu. Jun. Brut. —At his Birth, the heavenly Council paus'd,
And then at last cry'd out, This is a Man!
Dryden hath improved this Hint to the utmost Perfection:
So perfect, that the very Gods who form'd you, wonder'dAt their own Skill, and cry'd, A lucky Hit
Has mended our Design! Their Envy hindred,
Or you had been Immortal, and a Pattern,
When Heaven would work for Ostentation sake,
To copy out again.
All for Love.
Banks prefers the Works of Michael Angelo to that of the Gods;
A Pattern for the Gods to make a Man by,Or Michael Angelo to form a Statue.
This Tragedy which in most Points resembles the Antients differs from them in this, that it assigns the same Honour to Lowness of Stature, which they did to Height. The Gods and Heroes in Homer and Virgil are continually described higher by the Head than their Followers, the contrary of which is observ'd by our Author: In short, to exceed on either side is equally admirable, and a Man of three Foot is as wonderful a sight as a Man of nine.
My Soul will quickly sink.
Mithrid. My Soul is like a Ship.
Injur'd Love.
This well-bred Line seems to be copied in the Persian Princess;
To be your humblest, and most faithful Slave.This Doubt of the King puts me in mind of a Passage in the Captives, where the Noise of Feet is mistaken for the Rustling of Leaves,
—Methinks I hearThe sound of Feet
No, 'twas the Wind that shook yon Cypress Boughs.
Don Carlos in the Revenge suns himself in the Charms of his Mistress,
While in the Lustre of her Charms I lay.This Speech hath been taken to pieces by several Tragical Authors who seem to have rifled it and shared its Beauties among them.
My Soul waits at the Portal of thy Breast,To ravish from thy Lips the welcome News.
Anna Bullen. My Soul stands listning at my Ears.
Cyrus the Great. Love to his Tune my jarring Heart would bring,
But Reason overwinds and cracks the String.
D. of Guise. —I should have lov'd,
Tho' Jove in muttering Thunder had forbid it.
New Sophonisba. And when it (my Heart) wild resolves to love no more,
Then is the Triumph of excessive Love.
Ibidem.
This dreadful Revolution in my Fate,
Ulamar.
Who but a Dog, who but a Dog.
Liberty Asserted.
An Information very like this we have in the Tragedy of Love, where Cyrus having stormed in the most violent manner, Cyaxares observes very calmly,
Why, Nephew Cyrus—you are mov'd.There is not one Beauty in this Charming Speech, but hath been borrowed by almost every Tragick Writer.
SCENE IV.
Grizzlesolus.
Where art thou Grizzle? where are now thy Glories?
Where are the Drums that waken'd thee to Honour?
Greatness is a lac'd Coat from Monmouth-Street,
Which Fortune lends us for a Day to wear,
To-morrow puts it on another's Back.
The spiteful Sun but yesterday survey'd
His Rival, high as Saint Paul's Cupola;
Now may he see me as Fleet-Ditch laid low
Mr. Banks has (I wish I could not say too servilely) imitated this of Grizzle in his Earl of Essex.
Where art thou Essex, &c.SCENE V.
Queen, Grizzle.Queen.
Teach me to scold, prodigious-minded Grizzle.
Mountain of Treason, ugly as the Devil,
Teach this confounded hateful Mouth of mine,
To spout forth Words malicious as thy self,
Words, which might shame all Billingsgate to speak.
Griz.
Far be it from my Pride, to think my Tongue
Your Royal Lips can in that Art instruct,
Wherein you so excel. But may I ask,
Without Offence, wherefore my Queen would scold?
Queen.
Wherefore, Oh! Blood and Thunder! han't you heard
(What ev'ry Corner of the Court resounds)
That little Thumb will be a great Man made.
Griz.
I heard it, I confess—for who, alas!
By grinding Knives, had first been set on Edge.
Queen.
Would I had heard at the still Noon of Night,
The Hallaloo of Fire in every Street!
Odsbobs! I have a mind to hang my self,
To think I shou'd a Grandmother be made
By such a Raskal.—Sure the King forgets,
When in a Pudding, by his Mother put,
The Bastard, by a Tinker, on a Stile
Was drop'd.—O, good Lord Grizzle! can I bear
To see him from a Pudding, mount the Throne?
Or can, Oh can! my Huncamunca bear,
To take a Pudding's Offspring to her Arms?
Griz.
Oh Horror! Horror! Horror! cease my Queen,
Thy Voice like twenty Screech-Owls, wracks my Brain.
Queen.
Then rouse thy Spirit—we may yet prevent
This hated Match.—
Griz.
—We will not Fate it self,
Should it conspire with Thomas Thumb, should cause it.
I'll swim through Seas; I'll ride upon the Clouds;
I'll dig the Earth; I'll blow out ev'ry Fire;
I'll rave; I'll rant; I'll rise; I'll rush; I'll roar;
Fierce as the Man whom smiling Dolphins bore,
From the Prosaick to Poetick Shore.
Queen.
Oh, no! prevent the Match, but hurt him not;
For, tho' I would not have him have my Daughter,
Yet can we kill the Man that kill'd the Giants?
Griz.
I tell you, Madam, it was all a Trick,
He made the Giants first, and then he kill'd them;
As Fox-hunters bring Foxes to the Wood,
And then with Hounds they drive them out again.
Queen.
How! have you seen no Giants? Are there not
Now, in the Yard, ten thousand proper Giants?
Griz.
Indeed, I cannot positively tell,
But firmly do believe there is not One.
Queen.
Hence! from my Sight! thou Traitor, hie away;
By all my Stars! thou enviest Tom Thumb.
Go, Sirrah! go, hie away! hie!—thou art,
A setting Dog be gone.
Madam, I go.
Tom Thumb shall feel the Vengeance you have rais'd:
So, when two Dogs are fighting in the Streets,
With a third Dog, one of the two Dogs meets,
With angry Teeth, he bites him to the Bone,
And this Dog smarts for what that Dog had done.
Grizzle was not probably possessed of that Glew, of which Mr. Banks speaks in his Cyrus.
I'll glew my Ears to ev'ry word.This Epithet to a Dolphin doth not give one so clear an Idea as were to be wished, a smiling Fish seeming a little more difficult to be imagined than a flying Fish. Mr. Dryden is of Opinion, that smiling is the Property of Reason, and that no irrational Creature can smile.
Smiles not allowed to Beasts from Reason move.State of Innocence.
These Lines are written in the same Key with those in the Earl of Essex;
Why sayst thou so, I love thee well, indeedI do, and thou shalt find by this, 'tis true.
Or with this in Cyrus;
The most heroick Mind that ever was.And with above half of the modern Tragedies.
Aristotle in that excellent Work of his which is very justly stiled his Master-piece, earnestly recommends using the Terms of Art, however coarse or even indecent they may be. Mr. Tate is of the same Opinion.
Bru.Do not, like young Hawks, fetch a Course about,
Your Game flies fair.
Fra.
Do not fear it.
He answers you in your own Hawking Phrase.
Injur'd Love.
I think these two great Authorities are sufficient to justify Dollalolla in the use of the Phrase—Hie away hie; when in the same Line she says she is speaking to a setting Dog.
SCENE VI.
Queensola.
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.
This Match prevented, then Tom Thumb is mine:
In that dear Hope, I will forget my Pain.
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. | The Tragedy of Tragedies ; Or The Life and Death of Tom Thumb the Great | |