Nay, gentle Shekelsford, turn not away—
I must have wealth, for this is Saturday.
Ah, now thou smil'st a soft relenting smile—
Thy previous frown was but a passing joke,
I knew thy heart would melt with pity while
Thou heardst me pleading I was very broke.
Nay, ask me not if I've a note from Stone,
When I approach thee, O thou best of men!
I bring no notes, but, boldly and alone,
I woo sweet hope and strike thee for a ten.