Tell him to leave off drinking wine,—
Tell him to break himself off smoking,—
Tell him to go to bed at nine,—
His hours are really quite provoking.
Tell him I hope he won’t get fat,—
Tell him to act with due reflection;—
Tell him to wear a broad-leaf hat,
Or else he’ll ruin his complexion.
Tell him I am so ill to-day,—
Perhaps to-morrow I’ll be better;—-
Tell him before he goes away
To write me a consoling letter:
Tell him to send me down that song
He said he loved the best of any,—
Tell him I’m sure I can’t live long,—
And—bid him love me,—won’t you, Fanny?
AN INVITATION.
“If she be not fair to me,
What care I how fair she be.”—Suckling.
Wherefore, Fanny, look so lovely,
In your anger, in your glee?
Laughing, weeping, fair, capricious!
If you will look so delicious,
Prythee, look at me!
Wherefore, Fanny, sing so sweetly,
Like the bird upon the tree,—
Hearts in dozens round you bringing?
Siren! if you must be singing,
Prythee, sing to me!
Wherefore, Fanny, dance so lightly,
Like the wave upon the sea?
Motion every charm enhancing;
Fanny, if you will be dancing,
Prythee, dance with me!
Wherefore smile so like an angel,
Angel-like although you be?
Head and heart at once beguiling,—
Dearest! if you will be smiling,
Prythee, smile on me!
Wherefore flirt, and aim your arrows
At each harmless fop you see?
Coxcombs, hardly worth the hurting;
Tyrant! if you must be flirting,
Prythee, flirt with me!
Wherefore, Fanny, kiss and fondle
Half the ugly brats you see?
Waste not love among so many;—
Sweetest! if you fondle any,
Prythee, fondle me!