On her sweet self set her own price,
Knowing he cannot choose but pay,
How has she cheapen’d paradise;
How given for nought her priceless gift,
How spoiled the bread and spilled the wine,
Which, spent with due respective thrift,
Had made brutes men, and men divine!
C. Patmore (The Angel in the House).
Nay, Love, you did give all I asked, I think—