Rondeau—in the Cestus

Think not here to drive your gig, Madam Juno; I'll make you know, Who's at home, or burn my wig, Why, I'll know the reason. You may grin, but I'll bet twenty, Her Lord and Master, I shall cast her; And as to witnesses, I've plenty, In 'good time and season. Think not, &c. Shall I by her—my goods and chattels, Be led by the nose here, Nor dispose her As I list—Why, Sir, these battles, 'Gainst me are petty treason. Think not, &c.