Nay, when your mirth, Sir, may think fit,
Can fill my crooked back with wit;
Can even make me almost proud,
Of that self-same prepost'rous load.
You may, perhaps, be not aware,
But 'tis the truth which I declare,
I would serve you for half the wages
Which common servitude engages,
Provided you would pay the rest
In such nice puns and merry jest;