And as to my frowning, I don't know the way—
Do you really imagine that insolent chatter
Can affect me, or that I care for what people say?
With fervent adorers around by the dozen,
For whom but my word is the law of their life.
Do you think I'd occasion to pitch on a cousin,
And announce that you wanted myself as your wife?
Do not think I am angry, I am good at forgiving,
Have my constant refusals then made you so sour?
Even poets in Punch have to write for their living,