/
Source Image
Loading...
English
The poor thing, the poor thing,
Hardly knows what she is doing.
She dreams of it, worries about it,
It is the subject of her speech.
The poor thing, ah! the poor thing
Hardly knows what she is doing.
From the day of the wedding
Her torment begins,
In the Spouse who binds her
She finds a tyrant.
A jealous watchdog,
Who obsessively haunts her,
Contradicts her, exceeds his bounds,
She complains of it in vain:
For her sad destiny,
There is no more remedy.
All the wishes of a young girl
Have the Hymen as their first object,
The poor thing, ah! the poor thing
Hardly knows what she is doing.
SCENE VIII.
MRS. ARGANT, CRISPIN.
MRS. ARGANT.
What have you done with that soldier?
CRISPIN.
I have tucked him away up there, in the attic.
MRS. ARGANT.
Will Mr. Argant be coming to sup?
CRISPIN.
I do not know.
MRS. ARGANT.
Did he tell you where he was going?
CRISPIN.
No.
MRS. ARGANT.
Did he speak to you about me?
Use ← → arrow keys to navigateSwipe left/right to navigate·Produced by SourceLibrary.org in Amsterdam, 2026