So much I give to you with free good-will;
But, O, I fear that more you look for still.
I know, by your stern look and meaning leers,
You want to clap your fingers on my ears.
Right willing, too, you are, as I surmise,
To cast your misty powder in my eyes.
But, O, in mercy spare my little twinklers!
And I will always wear your crystal blinkers.
Then ’bout my ears I’d fain a bargain strike,
And give my hand upon it, if you like.