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.