For when I to Celia would speak,
And on her Breast sigh what I mean;
My Heart-Strings are ready to break,
For their I find Mounsieur Le Chien, (Le Chien,)
Le Chien, Mounsieur, Mounsieur Le Chien).
For knowledge of Modish Intrigues,
Or managing well an Amour;
I defie any one with two Legs,
But here I am Rivall'd by four:
Distracted all Night with my Wrongs,
I cry, Cruel Gods! what d'ye mean!
That what to my Merit belongs,
You bestow upon Mounsieur Le Chien.
For Feature, or Niceness in Dress,
Compare with him surely I can;
Nor vainly my self should express,
To say, I am much more a Man;
To th' Government firm too as he,
The former I cunningly mean;
And if he Religious can be,
I've as much sure as Mounsieur Le Chien.
But what need I publish my Parts,
Or Idly my Passion relate;
Since Fancy that Captivates Hearts,
Resolves not to alter my Fate:
I may Sing, Caper, Ogle, and Speak,
And make a long Court, Ausi bien,
And yet with one Passionate Lick,
I'm out-Rivall'd by Mounsieur Le Chien.
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