Rondo

My gen'rous heart disdains the Slave of love to be;

I scorn his servile chains and boast my liberty.

This whining and pining and wasting with Care

Are not to my taste, be she ever so fair.

Shall a girl's capricious frown

Sink my noble spirits down?

Shall a face of white and red

Make me droop my silly head?

Shall I set me down and sigh

For an eyebrow or an eye,

For a braided lock of hair

Curse my fortune and despair?

My gen'rous heart disdains the Slave of love to be;

I scorn his servile chains and boast my liberty.

This whining and pining and wasting with Care

Are not to my taste, be she ever so fair.

Still uncertain is tomorrow,

Not quite certain is today.

Shall I waste my time to sorrow,

Shall I languish life away

All because a cruel maid

Hath not love with love repaid?

My gen'rous heart disdains the Slave of love to be;

I scorn his servile chains and boast my liberty.

This whining and pining and wasting with Care

Are not to my taste, be she ever so fair.