The Works of Henry Fielding, vol. 12. Fielding Harold
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.
[Footnote 1: – Who caused
This dreadful revolution in my fate.
Ulamar. Who but a dog – who but a dog? —Liberty As.
]
[Footnote 2: – A bride, Who twenty years lay loving by your side. —Banks. ]
[Footnote 3: For, borne upon a cloud, from high I'll fall, And rain down royal vengeance on you all. —Alb. Queens. ]
Food. [1]Her majesty the queen is in a passion.
[Footnote 1: 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 moved.
]
King. [1] Be she, or be she not, I'll to the girl
And pave thy way, oh Thumb – Now by ourself,
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 petticoat, and her the breeches.
[Footnote 1: 'Tis in your choice. Love me, or love me not. —Conquest of Granada. ]
Thumb. [1] Whisper ye winds, that Huncamunca's mine!
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.
So when some chimney-sweeper all the day
Hath through dark paths pursued the sooty way,
At night to wash his hands and face he flies,
And in his t'other shirt with his Brickdusta lies.
[Footnote 1: There is not one beauty in this charming speech but what hath been borrow'd by almost every tragick writer. ]
SCENE IV
Grizzle (solus.) [1] Where art thou, Grizzle? where
are now thy glories?
Where are the drums that waken thee to honour?
Greatness is a laced 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.
[Footnote 1: 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. [1]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 thyself,
Words which might shame all Billingsgate to speak.
[Footnote 1: The countess of Nottingham, in the Earl of Essex, is apparently acquainted with Dollallolla.]
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 every corner of the court resounds) That little Thumb will be a great man made?
Griz. I heard it, I confess – for who, alas! [1] Can always stop his ears? – But would my teeth, By grinding knives, had first been set on edge!
[Footnote 1: Grizzle was not probably possessed of that glew of which
Mr Banks speaks in his Cyrus.
I'll glew my ears to every word.
]
Queen. Would I had heard, at the still noon of night,
The hallalloo of fire in every street!
Odsbobs! I have a mind to hang myself,
To think I should a grandmother be made
By such a rascal! – Sure the king forgets
When in a pudding, by his mother put,
The bastard, by a tinker, on a stile
Was dropp'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, [1] Thy voice, like twenty screech-owls, wracks my brain.
[Footnote 1: Screech-owls, dark ravens, and amphibious monsters, Are screaming in that voice. —Mary Queen of Scots. ]
Queen. Then rouse thy spirit – we may yet prevent This hated match.
Griz. – We will[1]; nor fate itself,
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 every fire;
I'll rave; I'll rant; I'll rise; I'll rush; I'll roar;
Fierce as the man whom[2] smiling dolphins bore
From the prosaick to poetick shore.
I'll tear the scoundrel into twenty pieces.
[Footnote 1: The reader may see all the beauties of this speech in a