And honest fame, without expense, you’ve got:
The wife, whom you desir’d!—in all things bless’d,
But want the disposition to believe so.
Had you, like me, a scoundrel pimp to deal with,
Then you’d perceive—But sure ’tis in our nature
Never to be contented.
Ant. Now to me,
Phædria, ’tis you appear the happy man.
Still quite at large, free to consider still,
To keep, pursue, or quit her: I, alas!