_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 promised to Tom Thumb. _Griz._ And can my princess such a durgen wed? One fitter for your pocket than your bed! Advised 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! every inch. Then, while in joys together lost we lie,[129] 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 proved 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. _Hunc._ 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[130] From one pole to another pole rebound; The earth and sky each be a battledore, And keep the sound, that shuttlecock, up an hour: To Doctors Commons for a licence I Swift as an arrow from a bow will fly. _Hunc._ Oh, no! lest some disaster we should meet, 'Twere better to be married 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.[131] _Hunc._ Those post-horses to me will seem too slow Though they should fly swift as the gods, when they Ride on behind that post-boy, Opportunity. SCENE VI. TOM THUMB, HUNCAMUNCA. _Thumb._ Where is my princess? where's my Huncamunca? Where are those eyes, those cardmatches of love, That light up all with love my waxen soul?[132] Where is that face which artful nature made In the same moulds where Venus' self was cast?[133] _Hunc._ Oh! what is music to the ear that's deaf,[134] Or a goose-pie to him that has no taste? What are these praises now to me, since I Am promised to another? _Thumb._ Ha! promised? _Hunc._ Too sure; 'tis written in the book of fate. _Thumb._ Then I will tear away the leaf[135] Wherein it's writ; or, if fate won't allow So large a gap within its journal-book, I'll blot it out at least. SCENE VII. GLUMDALCA, TOM THUMB, HUNCAMUNCA. _Glum._ I need not ask if you are Huncamunca,[136] Your brandy-nose proclaims---- _Hunc._ I am a princess; Nor need I ask who you are.