Thus too my people shun me; I would spend
A thousand pounds to get a single friend;
I would be happy - I have means to pay
For love and friendship, and you run away:
Ungrateful creatures! why, you seem to dread
My very looks; I know you wish me dead.
Come hither, Nancy! you must hold me dear;
Hither, I say; why! what have you to fear?
You see I’m gentle - Come, you trifler, come:
My God! she trembles! - Idiot, leave the room!