That Hymen’s rites their hands and hearts must bind.
Now she believes my business done, and I
At the dire news would fetch a sigh and die:
But she’s deceived, I in my Strephon grow,
And if he’s happy, I must needs be so:
Or if Fate could our interests disjoin,
At his good fortune I should ne’er repine,
Though ’twere my ruin; but I exult to hear,
Insulting Mopsa I no more shall fear;
No more he’ll smile upon that ugly Witch: