_Thumb_. [1] 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 called a debt, Take my receipt in full: I ask but this,-- [2] To sun myself in Huncamunca's eyes. [Footnote 1: Mr Dryden seems to have had this passage in his eye in the first page of Love Triumphant.] [Footnote 2: Don Carlos, in the Revenge, suns himself in the charms of his mistress: While in the lustre of her charms I lay. ] _King_. Prodigious bold request. [_Aside_. _Queen_. --------[1] Be still, my soul. [_Aside_. [Footnote 1: A tragical phrase much in use.] _Thumb_. [1]My heart is at the threshold of your mouth, And waits its answer there.--Oh! do not frown. I've try'd to reason's tune to tune my soul, But love did overwind and crack the string. Though Jove in thunder had cry'd out, YOU SHAN'T, I should have loved her still--for oh, strange fate, Then when I loved her least I loved her most! [Footnote 1: 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 list'ning 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 loved, Though 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.--_Ibid_. ] _King_. It is resolv'd--the princess is your own. _Thumb_. Oh! [1]happy, happy, happy, happy Thumb. [Footnote 1: Massinissa is one-fourth less happy than Tom Thumb.] Oh! happy, happy, happy!--_Ibid_. ] _Queen_. Consider, sir; reward your soldier's 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 Caesars and her Scipios show, Her Messieurs France, let Holland boast Mynheers, Ireland her O's, her Macs let Scotland boast, Let England boast no other than Tom Thumb. _Queen_. Though greater yet his boasted merit was, He shall not have my daughter, that is pos'. _King_. Ha! sayst thou, Dollallolla? _Queen_.---------I say he shan't. _King_. [1]Then by our royal self we swear you lie. [Footnote 1: No by myself.--_Anna Bullen_.] _Queen_. [1] Who but a dog, who but a dog Would use me as thou dost? Me, who have lain [2] These twenty years so loving by thy side! But I will be revenged. I'll hang myself. Then tremble all who did this match persuade, [3] For, riding on a cat, from high I'll fall, And squirt down royal vengeance on you all.