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Philidor, François-André, 1726-1795; Sedaine, Michel-Jean · 1775

Yes, without doubt.
In leaving he told me several times
That we would only have his presence tomorrow.
That I had to weep for his absence tonight.
Ah! Poor women that we are,
That we are
Dupes of men!
They are all nothing but ingrates,
Nothing but traitors, scoundrels.
If candor, if frankness,
If modesty transmitted in us,
Were not the virtues of women,
There would be none left on earth,
One would see them no more.
Ah! poor women that we are,
That we are
Dupes of men!
They are all nothing but ingrates,
Nothing but traitors, scoundrels.
To what purpose?...
Why?...
Could it be our spouses
Who are ingrates?
Where do you think
They expect to sup?
Madame, I do not know.
Where then?