Hunc. I am a princess; Nor need I ask who you are.
Glum. A giantess; The queen of those who made and unmade queens.
Hunc. The man whose chief ambition is to be My sweetheart hath destroy'd these mighty giants.
Glum. Your sweetheart? Dost thou think the man who once Hath worn my easy chains will e'er wear thine?
Hunc. Well may your chains be easy, since, if fame Says true, they have been tried on twenty husbands. [1]The glove or boot, so many times pull'd on, May well sit easy on the hand or foot.
[Footnote 1: "A cobling poet indeed," says Mr D.; and yet I believe we may find as monstrous images in the tragick authors: I'll put down one:
Untie your folded thoughts, and let them dangle loose as a bride's hair.—Injured Love.
Which line seems to have as much title to a milliner's shop as our author's to a shoemaker's.]
Glum. I glory in the number, and when I Sit poorly down, like thee, content with one, Heaven change this face for one as bad as thine.
Hunc. Let me see nearer what this beauty is That captivates the heart of men by scores. [Holds a candle to her face. Oh! Heaven, thou art as ugly as the devil.