The Works of Henry Fielding Part 15

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 art A 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 coa.r.s.e 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 live Without 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 night A double mug of beer, and beer shall glad thee.

Stand here by me, this way must Noodle pa.s.s.

_Fol_. No more, no more, oh Bailiff! every word Inspires my soul with virtue. Oh! I long To 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 blush To think a warrior, great in arms as you, Should be affrighted by his grandmamma.

Can an old woman's empty dreams deter The 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] Blus.h.i.+ng to see us in our bed together.