SCENE V.

GRIZZLE, HUNCAMUNCA.

_Griz._ Oh! Huncamunca, Huncamunca, oh![127] Thy pouting breasts, like kettledrums of brass, Beat everlasting loud alarms of joy; As bright as brass they are, and oh, as hard. Oh! Huncamunca, Huncamunca, oh!

_Hunc._ Ha! dost thou know me, princess as I am, That thus of me you dare to make your game?[128]

_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. Then, while in joys together lost we lie,[129] I'll press thy soul while gods stand wishing by.

_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.

_Griz._ Oh! let him seek some dwarf, some fairy miss, Where no joint-stool must lift him to the kiss! But, by the stars and glory! you appear Much fitter for a Prussian grenadier; One globe alone on Atlas' shoulders rests, Two globes are less than Huncamunca's breasts; The milky way is not so white, that's flat, And sure thy breasts are full as large as that.

_Hunc._ Oh, sir, so strong your eloquence I find, It is impossible to be unkind.

_Griz._ Ah! speak that o'er again, and let the sound[130] From one pole to another pole rebound; The earth and sky each be a battledore, And keep the sound, that shuttlecock, up an hour: To Doctors Commons for a licence I Swift as an arrow from a bow will fly.

_Hunc._ Oh, no! lest some disaster we should meet, 'Twere better to be married at the Fleet.

_Griz._ Forbid it, all ye powers, a princess should By that vile place contaminate her blood; My quick return shall to my charmer prove I travel on the post-horses of love.[131]

_Hunc._ Those post-horses to me will seem too slow Though they should fly swift as the gods, when they Ride on behind that post-boy, Opportunity.