Justine, You Love Me Not!

I know, Justine, you speak me fair As often as we meet; And 'tis a luxury, I swear, To hear a voice so sweet; And yet it does not please me quite, The civil way you've got; For me you're something too polite - Justine, you love me not! I know Justine, you never scold At aught that I may do: If I am passionate or cold, 'Tis all the same to you. 'A charming temper,' say the men, 'To smooth a husband's lot': I wish 'twere ruffled now and then - Justine you love me not! I know, Justine, you wear a smile As beaming as the sun; But who supposes all the while It shines for only one? Though azure skies are fair to see, A transient cloudy spot In yours would promise more to me - Justine, you love me not! I know, Justine, you make my name Your eulogistic theme, And say - if any chance to blame - You hold me in esteem. Such words, for all their kindly scope, Delight me not a jot; Just as you would have praised the Pope - Justine, you love me not! I know, Justine - for I have heard What friendly voices tell - You do not blush to say the word, 'You like me passing well'; And thus the fatal sound I hear That seals my lonely lot: There's nothing now to hope or fear - Justine, you love me not!