Conquest light'ning in his eyes, and thund'ring in his arm, Joy lighten'd in her eyes. Joys like lightning dart along my soul. ] _Hunc_. Oh! say not small. _King_. This happy news shall on our tongue ride post, Ourself we bear the happy news to Thumb. Yet think not, daughter, that your powerful charms Must still detain the hero from his arms; Various his duty, various his delight; Now in his turn to kiss, and now to fight, And now to kiss again. So, mighty[1] Jove, When with excessive thund'ring tired above, Comes down to earth, and takes a bit--and then Flies to his trade of thund'ring back again. [Footnote 1: Jove, with excessive thund'ring tired above, Comes down for ease, enjoys a nymph, and then Mounts dreadful, and to thund'ring goes again.--_Gloriana_. ] SCENE V.--GRIZZLE, HUNCAMUNCA. [1]_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! [Footnote 1: 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 called Duke upon Duke hath improved it: Alas! O Nick! O Nick, alas! Where, by the help of a little false spelling, you have two meanings in the repeated words. ] _Hunc_. Ha! dost thou know me, princess as I am, [1]That thus of me you dare to make your game? [Footnote 1: Edith, in the Bloody Brother, speaks to her lover in the same familiar language: Your grace is full of game. ] _Griz_. 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 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. [1]Then, while in joys together lost we lie, I'll press thy soul while gods stand wishing by. [Footnote 1: Traverse the glitt'ring chambers of the sky, Borne on a cloud in view of fate I'll lie, And press her soul while gods stand wishing by. --_Hannibal_. ] _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.