The Works of Henry Fielding, vol. 12

[Footnote 1: Mr Banks hath copied this almost verbatim:

It was enough to say, here's Essex come,And nurses still'd their children with the fright.– Earl of Essex.

]

Nood. But hark! [1]these trumpets speak the king's approach.

[Footnote 1: The trumpet in a tragedy is generally as much as to say, Enter king, which makes Mr Banks, in one of his plays, call it the trumpet's formal sound.]

Dood. He comes most luckily for my petition.

[Flourish.

SCENE II. – KING, QUEEN, GRIZZLE, NOODLE, DOODLE, FOODLE

King. [1] Let nothing but a face of joy appear; The man who frowns this day shall lose his head, That he may have no face to frown withal. Smile Dollallolla – Ha! what wrinkled sorrow [2] Hangs, sits, lies, frowns upon thy knitted brow? Whence flow those tears fast down thy blubber'd cheeks, Like a swoln gutter, gushing through the streets?

[Footnote 1: Phraortes, in the Captives, seems to have been acquainted with King Arthur:

Proclaim a festival for seven days' space,Let the court shine in all its pomp and lustre,Let all our streets resound with shouts of joy;Let musick's care-dispelling voice be heard;The sumptuous banquet and the flowing gobletShall warm the cheek and fill the heart with gladness.Astarbe shall sit mistress of the feast.

]

[Footnote 2:

Repentance frowns on thy contracted brow. —Sophonisba.Hung on his clouded brow, I mark'd despair. —Ibid.– A sullen gloomScowls on his brow. —Busiris.

]

Queen. [1]Excess of joy, my lord, I've heard folks say, Gives tears as certain as excess of grief.

[Footnote 1: Plato is of this opinion, and so is Mr Banks:

Behold these tears sprung from fresh pain and joy.– Earl of Essex.

]

King. If it be so, let all men cry for joy, [1]Till my whole court be drowned with their tears; Nay, till they overflow my utmost land, And leave me nothing but the sea to rule.

[Footnote 1: These floods are very frequent in the tragick authors:

Near to some murmuring brook I'll lay me down,Whose waters, if they should too shallow flow,My tears shall swell them up till I will drown.– Lee's Sophonisba.Pouring forth tears at such a lavish rate,That were the world on fire they might have drown'dThe wrath of heaven, and quench'd the mighty ruin.– Mithridates.

One author changes the waters of grief to those of joy:

– These tears, that sprung from tides of grief,Are now augmented to a flood of joy. —Cyrus the Great.

Another:

Turns all the streams of heat, and makes them flowIn pity's channel. —Royal Villain.

One drowns himself:

– Pity like a torrent pours me down,Now I am drowning all within a deluge. —Anna Sullen.

Cyrus drowns the whole world:

Our swelling griefShall melt into a deluge, and the worldShall drown in tears. —Cyrus the Great.

]

Dood. My liege, I a petition have here got.

King. Petition me no petitions, sir, to-day:Let other hours be set apart for business.To-day it is our pleasure to be [1]drunk.And this our queen shall be as drunk as we.

[Footnote 1: An expression vastly beneath the dignity of tragedy, says

Mr D – s, yet we find the word he cavils at in the mouth of

Mithridates less properly used, and applied to a more terrible idea:

I would be drunk with death. —Mithridates.

The author of the New Sophonisba taketh hold of this monosyllable, and uses it pretty much to the same purpose:

The Carthaginian sword with Roman bloodWas drunk.

I would ask Mr D – s which gives him the best idea, a drunken king, or a drunken sword?

Mr Tate dresses up King Arthur's resolution in heroick:

Merry, my lord, o' th' captain's humour right,I am resolved to be dead drunk to-night.

Lee also uses this charming word:

Love's the drunkenness of the mind. —Gloriana. ]Queen. (Though I already[1] half seas over am)If the capacious goblet overflowWith arrack punch – 'fore George! I'll see it out:Of rum and brandy I'll not taste a drop.

[Footnote 1: Dryden hath borrowed this, and applied it improperly:

I'm half seas o'er in death. —Cleomenes ]

King. Though rack, in punch, eight shillings be a quart, And rum and brandy be no more than six, Rather than quarrel you shall have your will. [Trumpets. But, ha! the warrior comes – the great Tom Thumb, The little hero, giant-killing boy, Preserver of my kingdom, is arrived.

SCENE III. – TOM THUMB to them, with Officers, Prisoners, and Attendants

King. [1] Oh! welcome most, most welcome to my arms.What gratitude can thank away the debtYour valour lays upon me?

[Footnote 1: This figure is in great use among the tragedians:

'Tis therefore, therefore 'tis. —Victim.

I long, repent, repent, and long again. —Busiris. ]

Queen. – [1] Oh! ye gods! [Aside.

[Footnote 1: A tragical exclamation.]

Thumb. When I'm not thank'd at all, I'm thank'd enough. [1] I've done my duty, and I've done no more,

[Footnote 1: This line is copied verbatim in the Captives.]

Queen. Was ever such a godlike creature seen? [Aside.

King. Thy modesty's a [1]candle to thy merit, It shines itself, and shews thy merit too. But say, my boy, where didst thou leave the giants?

[Footnote 1: We find a candlestick for this candle in two celebrated authors:

– Each star withdraws

His golden head, and burns within the socket. —Nero.

A soul grown old and sunk into the socket. —Sebastian.

]

Thumb. My liege, without the castle gates they stand, The castle gates too low for their admittance.

King. What look they like?

Thumb. Like nothing but themselves.

Queen. [1]And sure thou art like nothing but thyself. [Aside.

[Footnote 1: This simile occurs very frequently among the dramatic writers of both kinds.]

King. Enough! the vast idea fills my soul.I see them – yes, I see them now before me:The monstrous, ugly, barb'rous sons of whores.But ha! what form majestick strikes our eyes?[1]So perfect, that it seems to have been drawnBy all the gods in council: so fair she is,That surely at her birth the council paused,And then at length cry'd out, This is a woman!

[Footnote 1: Mr Lee hath stolen this thought from our author:

This perfect face, drawn by the gods in council,Which they were long a making. —Luc. Jun. Brut.– At his birth the heavenly council paused,And then at last cry'd out, This is a man!

Dryden hath improved this hint to the utmost perfection:

So perfect, that the very gods who form'd you wonder'dAt their own skill, and cry'd, A lucky hitHas mended our design! Their envy hindered,Or you had been immortal, and a pattern,When Heaven would work for ostentation sake,To copy out again. —All for Love.

Banks prefers the works of Michael Angelo to that of the gods:

A pattern for the gods to make a man by,Or Michael Angelo to form a statue.

]

Thumb. Then were the gods mistaken – she is not A woman, but a giantess – whom we, [1] With much ado, have made a shift to hawl Within the town:[2] for she is by a foot Shorter than all her subject giants were.

[Footnote 1: It is impossible, says Mr W – , sufficiently to admire this natural easy line.]

[Footnote 2: This tragedy, which in most points resembles the ancients, differs from them in this – that it assigns the same honour to lowness of stature which they did to height. The gods and heroes in Homer and Virgil are continually described higher by the head than their followers, the contrary of which is observed by our author. In short, to exceed on either side is equally admirable; and a man of three foot is as wonderful a sight as a man of nine.]

Glum. We yesterday were both a queen and wife, One hundred thousand giants own'd our sway, Twenty whereof were married to ourself.

Queen. Oh! happy state of giantism where husbands Like mushrooms grow, whilst hapless we are forced To be content, nay, happy thought, with one.

Glum. But then to lose them all in one black day,That the same sun which, rising, saw me wifeTo twenty giants, setting should beholdMe widow'd of them all. – [1]My worn-out heart,That ship, leaks fast, and the great heavy lading,My soul, will quickly sink.

[Footnote 1:

My blood leaks fast, and the great heavy ladingMy soul will quickly sink. —Mithridates.My soul is like a ship. —Injured Love.

]

Queen. Madam, believeI view your sorrows with a woman's eye:But learn to bear them with what strength you may,To-morrow we will have our grenadiersDrawn out before you, and you then shall chooseWhat husbands you think fit.

Glum. [1]Madam, I am Your most obedient and most humble servant.

[Footnote 1: This well-bred line seems to be copied in the Persian

Princess: —

To be your humblest and most faithful slave.

]

King. Think, mighty princess, think this court your own,Nor think the landlord me, this house my inn;Call for whate'er you will, you'll nothing pay.[1]I feel a sudden pain within my breast,Nor know I whether it arise from loveOr only the wind-cholick. Time must shew.O Thumb! what do we to thy valour owe!Ask some reward, great as we can bestow.

[Footnote 1: This doubt of the king puts me in mind of a passage in the Captives, where the noise of feet is mistaken for the rustling of leaves.

– Methinks I hearThe sound of feet:No; 'twas the wind that shook yon cypress boughs.

]

Thumb. [1] I ask not kingdoms, I can conquer those; I ask not money, money I've enough; For what I've done, and what I mean to do, For giants slain, and giants yet unborn, Which I will slay – if this be called a debt, Take my receipt in full: I ask but this, – [2] To sun myself in Huncamunca's eyes.

[Footnote 1: Mr Dryden seems to have had this passage in his eye in the first page of Love Triumphant.]

[Footnote 2: Don Carlos, in the Revenge, suns himself in the charms of his mistress:

While in the lustre of her charms I lay.

]

King. Prodigious bold request. [Aside.

Queen. – [1] Be still, my soul. [Aside.

[Footnote 1: A tragical phrase much in use.]

Thumb. [1]My heart is at the threshold of your mouth,And waits its answer there. – Oh! do not frown.I've try'd to reason's tune to tune my soul,But love did overwind and crack the string.Though Jove in thunder had cry'd out, YOU SHAN'T,I should have loved her still – for oh, strange fate,Then when I loved her least I loved her most!

[Footnote 1: This speech hath been taken to pieces by several tragical authors, who seem to have rifled it, and shared its beauties among them.

My soul waits at the portal of thy breast,To ravish from thy lips the welcome news. —Anna Bullen.

My soul stands list'ning at my ears. —Cyrus the Great.

Love to his tune my jarring heart would bring,But reason overwinds, and cracks the string. —D. of Guise.– I should have loved,Though Jove, in muttering thunder, had forbid it.– New Sophonisba.And when it (my heart) wild resolves to love no more,Then is the triumph of excessive love. —Ibid.

]

King. It is resolv'd – the princess is your own.

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 causedThis 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 girlAnd pave thy way, oh Thumb – Now by ourself,We were indeed a pretty king of cloutsTo truckle to her will – For when by forceOr 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 asideAnd hymeneal sweets invite my bride.So when some chimney-sweeper all the dayHath 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? whereare 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'dHis 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 mineTo 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 tongueYour 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 madeBy such a rascal! – Sure the king forgetsWhen in a pudding, by his mother put,The bastard, by a tinker, on a stileWas dropp'd. – O, good lord Grizzle! can I bearTo see him from a pudding mount the throne?Or can, oh can, my Huncamunca bearTo 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 boreFrom 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 late ode called the Naval Lyrick.]

[Footnote 2: This epithet to a dolphin doth not give one so clear an idea as were to be wished; a smiling fish seeming a little more difficult to be imagined than a flying fish. Mr Dryden is of opinion that smiling is the property of reason, and that no irrational creature can smile:

Smiles not allow'd to beasts from reason move.

– State of Innocence.

]

Queen. Oh, no! prevent the match, but hurt him not; For, though I would not have him have my daughter, Yet can we kill the man that kill'd the giants?

Griz. I tell you, madam, it was all a trick;

He made the giants first, and then he kill'd them;

As fox-hunters bring foxes to the wood,

And then with hounds they drive them out again.

Queen. How! have you seen no giants? Are there not Now, in the yard, ten thousand proper giants?

Griz. [1]Indeed I cannot positively tell, But firmly do believe there is not one.

[Footnote 1: These lines are written in the same key with those in the

Earl of Essex:

Why, say'st thou so? I love thee well, indeed

I do, and thou shalt find by this 'tis true.

Or with this in Cyrus:

The most heroick mind that ever was.

And with above half of the modern tragedies. ]

Queen. Hence! from my sight! thou traitor, hie away;By all my stars I thou enviest Tom Thumb.Go, sirrah! go, [1]hie away! hie! – thou artA setting dog: be gone.

[Footnote 1: Aristotle, in that excellent work of his which is very justly stiled his masterpiece, earnestly recommends using the terms of art, however coarse or even indecent they may be. Mr Tate is of the same opinion.

Bru. Do not, like young hawks, fetch a course about. Your game flies fair.

Fra. Do not fear it. He answers you in your own hawking phrase. —Injured Love.

I think these two great authorities are sufficient to justify Dollallolla in the use of the phrase, "Hie away, hie!" when in the same line she says she is speaking to a setting-dog. ]

Griz. Madam, I go.Tom Thumb shall feel the vengeance you have raised.So, when two dogs are fighting in the streets,With a third dog one of the two dogs meets,With angry teeth he bites him to the bone,And this dog smarts for what that dog has done.

SCENE VI

Queen (sola). And whither shall I go? – Alack a day!I love Tom Thumb – but must not tell him so;For what's a woman when her virtue's gone?A coat without its lace; wig out of buckle;A stocking with a hole in't – I can't liveWithout my virtue, or without Tom Thumb.[1] Then let me weigh them in two equal scales;In this scale put my virtue, that Tom Thumb.Alas! Tom Thumb is heavier than my virtue.But hold! – perhaps I may be left a widow:This match prevented, then Tom Thumb is mine;In that dear hope I will forget my pain.So, when some wench to Tothill Bridewell's sent,With beating hemp and flogging she's content;She hopes in time to ease her present pain,At length is free, and walks the streets again.

[Footnote 1: We meet with such another pair of scales in Dryden's King

Arthur:

Arthur and Oswald, and their different fates,Are weighing now within the scales of heaven.

Also in Sebastian:

This hour my lot is weighing in the scales. ]

ACT II

SCENE I. —The street. Bailiff, Follower

[Footnote: Mr Rowe is generally imagined to have taken some hints from this scene in his character of Bajazet; but as he, of all the tragick writers, bears the least resemblance to our author in his diction, I am unwilling to imagine he would condescend to copy him in this particular.]

Bail. Come on, my trusty follower, come on;This day discharge thy duty, and at nightA double mug of beer, and beer shall glad thee.Stand here by me, this way must Noodle pass.Fol. No more, no more, oh Bailiff! every wordInspires my soul with virtue. Oh! I longTo meet the enemy in the street – and nab him:To lay arresting hands upon his back,And drag him trembling to the spunging-house.Bail. There when I have him, I will spunge upon him.Oh! glorious thought! by the sun, moon, and stars,I will enjoy it, though it be in thought!Yes, yes, my follower, I will enjoy it.Fol. Enjoy it then some other time, for now Our prey approaches.Bail. Let us retire.

SCENE II. – TOM THUMB, NOODLE, Bailiff, Follower

Thumb. Trust me, my Noodle, I am wondrous sick;For, though I love the gentle Huncamunca,Yet at the thought of marriage I grow pale:For, oh! – [1] but swear thou'lt keep it ever secret,I will unfold a tale will make thee stare.

[Footnote 1: This method of surprizing an audience, by raising their expectation to the highest pitch, and then baulking it, hath been practised with great success by most of our tragical authors]

Nood. I swear by lovely Huncamunca's charms.

Thumb. Then know – [1] my grandmamma hath often said, Tom Thumb, beware of marriage.

[Footnote: Almeyda, in Sebastian, is in the same distress:

Sometimes methinks I hear the groan of ghosts,This hollow sounds and lamentable screams;Then, like a dying echo from afar,My mother's voice that cries, Wed not, Almeyda;Forewarn'd, Almeyda, marriage is thy crime.

]

Nood. Sir, I blushTo think a warrior, great in arms as you,Should be affrighted by his grandmamma.Can an old woman's empty dreams deterThe blooming hero from the virgin's arms?Think of the joy that will your soul alarm,When in her fond embraces clasp'd you lie,While on her panting breast, dissolved in bliss,You pour out all Tom Thumb in every kiss.

Thumb. Oh! Noodle, thou hast fired my eager soul; Spite of my grandmother she shall be mine; I'll hug, caress, I'll eat her up with love: Whole days, and nights, and years shall be too short For our enjoyment; every sun shall rise [1] Blushing to see us in our bed together.

[Footnote: "As very well he may, if he hath any modesty in him," says Mr D – s. The author of Busiris is extremely zealous to prevent the sun's blushing at any indecent object; and therefore on all such occasions he addresses himself to the sun, and desires him to keep out of the way.

Rise never more, O sun! let night prevail,Eternal darkness close the world's wide scene. —Busiris.

Sun, hide thy face, and put the world in mourning. —Ibid.

Mr Banks makes the sun perform the office of Hymen, and therefore not likely to be disgusted at such a sight:

The sun sets forth like a gay brideman with you.– Mary Queen of Scots.

]

Nood. Oh, sir! this purpose of your soul pursue.

Bail. Oh! sir! I have an action against you.

Nood. At whose suit is it?

Bail. At your taylor's, sir. Your taylor put this warrant in my hands, And I arrest you, sir, at his commands.

Thumb. Ha! dogs! Arrest my friend before my face! Think you Tom Thumb will suffer this disgrace? But let vain cowards threaten by their word, Tom Thumb shall shew his anger by his sword. [Kills Bailiff and Follower.

Bail. Oh, I am slain!

Fol. I am murdered also, And to the shades, the dismal shades below, My bailiff's faithful follower I go.

Nood. [1]Go then to hell, like rascals as you are, And give our service to the bailiffs there.

[Footnote 1: Nourmahal sends the same message to heaven;