SCENE III.--_The Princess_ HUNCAMUNCA'S _Apartment_.

HUNCAMUNCA, CLEORA, MUSTACHA.

_Hunc._ Give me some music--see that it be sad.[118]

CLEORA _sings_.

Cupid, ease a love-sick maid, Bring thy quiver to her aid; With equal ardour wound the swain; Beauty should never sigh in vain.

Let him feel the pleasing smart, Drive the arrow through his heart: When one you wound, you then destroy; When both you kill, you kill with joy.

_Hunc._ O Tom Thumb! Tom Thumb! wherefore art thou Tom Thumb?[119] Why hadst thou not been born of royal race? Why had not mighty Bantam been thy father? Or else the King of Brentford, old or new!

_Must._ I am surprised that your highness can give yourself a moment's uneasiness about that little insignificant fellow, Tom Thumb the Great[120]--one properer for a plaything than a husband. Were he my husband his horns should be as long as his body. If you had fallen in love with a grenadier, I should not have wondered at it. If you had fallen in love with something; but to fall in love with nothing!

_Hunc._ Cease, my Mustacha, on thy duty cease. The zephyr, when in flowery vales it plays, Is not so soft, so sweet as Thummy's breath. The dove is not so gentle to its mate.

_Must._ The dove is every bit as proper for a husband.--Alas! madam, there's not a beau about the court looks so little like a man. He is a perfect butterfly, a thing without substance, and almost without shadow too.

_Hunc._ This rudeness is unseasonable: desist; Or I shall think this railing comes from love. Tom Thumb's a creature of that charming form, That no one can abuse, unless they love him.

_Must._ Madam, the king.