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Not to love! nor be lov’d!
Oh! I never can bear;
Nor yield to be sent,
I cannot tell where:
To live, or to die
In this cafe, is all one,
Nay, I’d rather be dead.
Than be reckon’d a nun.
Perhaps ’tis to tease me,
She threatens me so,
I’m sure, were she me,
She’d stoutly say no.
But if she’s in earnest,
I from her will run,
And I - married in spight,
That I mayn't a nun.
FINIS
