"I, my lord, can't write that letter,
You must find another penman;
For, I come myself as suitor,
Come to ask you for your daughter."
"Come--to ask you--for your daughter!"
In his turn now said the Baron
To himself--he made a wry mouth
As one playing on the Jew's-harp,
And he felt a sudden twitching
In his foot from his old enemy