SCENE VI.--TOM THUMB, HUNCAMUNCA.


_Thumb_. Where is my princess? where's my Huncamunca?
Where are those eyes, those cardmatches of Jove,
That[1] light up all with love my waxen soul?
Where is that face which artful nature made
[2] In the same moulds where Venus' self was cast?

[Footnote 1: This image, too, very often occurs:

--Bright as when thy eye
First lighted up our loves.--_Aurengzebe_.

'Tis not a crown alone lights up my name.--_Busiris_.
]

[Footnote 2: There is great dissension among the poets concerning the
method of making man. One tells his mistress that the mould she was
made in being lost, Heaven cannot form such another. Lucifer, in
Dryden, gives a merry description of his own formation:

Whom heaven, neglecting, made and scarce design'd,
But threw me in for number to the rest .--_State of Innocence_.

In one place the same poet supposes man to be made of metal: