In both which places it is intimated that it is sometimes possible to see with other eyes than your own. ] _Griz_. Draw all your swords: for liberty we fight, [1] And liberty the mustard is of life. [Footnote 1: "This mustard," says Mr D., "is enough to turn one's stomach. I would be glad to know what idea the author had in his head when he wrote it." This will be, I believe, best explained by a line of Mr Dennis: And gave him liberty, the salt of life.--_Liberty Asserted_. The understanding that can digest the one will not rise at the other.] _Thumb_. Are you the man whom men famed Grizzle name? _Griz_. [1] Are you the much more famed Tom Thumb? [Footnote 1: _Han_. Are you the chief whom men famed Scipio call? _Scip_. Are you the much more famous Hannibal? --_Hannibal_. ] _Thumb_. The same. _Griz_. Come on; our worth upon ourselves we'll prove; For liberty I fight. _Thumb_. And I for love. [_A bloody engagement between the two armies here; drums beating, trumpets sounding, thunder and lightning. They fight off and on several times. Some fall_. GRIZ. _and_ GLUM. _remain_. _Glum_. Turn, coward, turn; nor from a woman fly. _Griz_. Away--thou art too ignoble for my arm. _Glum_. Have at thy heart. _Griz_. Nay, then I thrust at thine. _Glum_. You push too well; you've run me through the guts, And I am dead. _Griz_. Then there's an end of one. Thumb_. When thou art dead, then there's an end of two, [1] Villain. [Footnote 1: Dr. Young seems to have copied this engagement in his Busiris: _Myr_. Villain! _Mem_. Myron! _Myr_. Rebel! _Mem_. Myron! _Myr_. Hell! _Mem_. Mandane! ] _Griz_. Tom Thumb! _Thumb_. Rebel! _Griz_. Tom Thumb! _Thumb_. Hell! _Griz_. Huncamunca! _Thumb_. Thou hast it there. _Griz_. Too sure I feel it. _Thumb_. To hell then, like a rebel as you are, And give my service to the rebels there. _Griz_. Triumph not, Thumb, nor think thou shalt enjoy, Thy Huncamunca undisturb'd; I'll send [1] My ghost to fetch her to the other world; [2] It shall but bait at heaven, and then return. [3] But, ha! I feel death rumbling in my brains: [4] Some kinder sprite knocks softly at my soul, And gently whispers it to haste away. I come, I come, most willingly I come. [5] So when some city wife, for country air, To Hampstead or to Highgate does repair, Her to make haste her husband does implore, And cries, "My dear, the coach is at the door:" With equal wish, desirous to be gone, She gets into the coach, and then she cries--"Drive on!" [Footnote 1: This last speech of my lord Grizzle hath been of great service to our poets: I'll hold it fast As life, and when life's gone I'll hold this last; And if thou tak'st it from me when I'm slain, I'll send my ghost, and fetch it back again. --_Conquest of Granada_. ] [Footnote 2: My soul should with such speed obey, It should not bait at heaven to stop its way.