I remember the time ere his temples were grey,
And I frown’d at the things he’d the boldness to say;
But now he grows old he may say what he will,
I laugh at his nonsense and take nothing ill.
Indeed I must say he’s a little improved,
For he watches no longer the slily beloved;
No longer, as once, he awakens my fears,
Not a glance he perceives, not a whisper he hears;
If ever he heard one, it never transpired,
For his only delight is to see me admired;
And now, pray, what better return can I make
Than flirt, and be always admired.. for his sake.