Rondeau.

Keep in mind these maxims rare,
You who hope to win the fair;
Who are, or would esteemed be,
The quintessence of gallantry.

That fopp’ry, grinning, and grimace,
And fertile store of common-place;
That oaths as false as dicers swear,
And Wry teeth, and scented hair;
That trinkets, and the pride of dress,
Can only give your scheme success. 

                              Keep in mind.

Has thy charmer e’er an aunt? 
Then learn the rules of woman’s cant,
And forge a tale, and swear you read it,
Such as, save woman, none would credit
Win o’er her confidante and pages
By gold, for this a golden age is;
And should it be her wayward fate,
To be encumbered with a mate,
A dull, old dotard should he be,
That dulness claims thy courtesy. 

                              Keep in mind.

“Truly,” said Matta, “the song may say what it pleases, but I cannot put it in practice:  your husband is far too exquisite a monster for me.  Why, what a plaguey odd ceremony do you require of us in this country, if we cannot pay our compliments to the wife without being in love with the husband!”

The Marchioness was much offended at this answer; and as she thought she had done enough in pointing out to him the path which would conduct him to success, if he had deserved it, she did not think it worth while to enter into any farther explanation; since he refused to cede, for her salve, so trilling an objection:  from this instant she resolved to have done with him.

The Chevalier de Grammont had taken leave of his mistress nearly at the same time:  the ardour of his pursuit was extinguished.  It was not that Mademoiselle de Saint Germain was less worthy than hitherto of his attentions:  on the contrary her attractions visibly increased:  she retired to her pillow with a thousand charms, and ever rose from it with additional beauty the phrase of increasing in beauty as she increased in years seemed to have been purposely made for her.  The Chevalier could not deny these truths, but yet he could not find his account in them:  a little less merit, with a little less discretion, would have been more agreeable.  He perceived that she attended to him with pleasure, that she was diverted with his stories as much as he could wish, and that she received his billets and presents without scruple; but then he also discovered that she did not wish to proceed any farther.  He had exhausted every species of address upon her, and all to no purpose:  her attendant was gained:  her family, charmed with the music of his conversation and his great attention, were never happy without him:  in short, he had reduced to practice the advice contained in the Marchioness’s song, and everything conspired to deliver the little Saint Germain into his hands, if the little Saint