The Cooper

I have never seen him overly pleasant.

Yesterday he was under the vine trellis, and I was spying on him without him seeing me; he was agitated, stamping his foot: this militia man displeases me, he said: he is a lazybones, a mocker, he is corrupting Fanchette, I must chase him away.

What, you think he is in love with you at his age?

Indeed, yes.

What proof do you have of it?

Plenty.

It is a remark, it is a look
That I notice by chance;
But despite his tender speeches,
When he sighs,
He makes me laugh
At his loves.

If I run, he is the first
To hurry to cheer me:
But the ardor suddenly fails him;
And his courage,
Frozen by age,
Remains by the wayside.

When I try a song,
If he wants to join in unison,
Our Duet proves at once
That old age
And youth
Do not go well together.

What, this old trooper reître mercenary soldier dares to come marauding on ground that I am holding? Ah, by a thousand eyes! I want to...!