DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

POLYDAMAS, Usurper of Sicily.
LEONIDAS, the rightful Prince, unknown.
ARGALEON, favourite to POLYDAMAS. 
HERMOGENES, foster-father to LEONIDAS. 
EUBULUS, his friend and companion.
RHODOPHIL, captain of the guards.
PALAMEDE, a courtier.

PALMYRA, daughter to the Usurper.
AMALTHEA, sister to ARGALEON. 
DORALICE, wife to RHODOPHIL. 
MELANTHA, an affected lady.
PHILOTIS, woman to MELANTHA. 
BELIZA, woman to DORALICE. 
ARTEMIS, a court lady.

SCENE,—­Sicily.

MARRIAGE A-LA-MODE.

ACT I.

SCENE I.—­Walks near the Court.

Enter DORALICE and BELIZA.

Dor. Beliza, bring the lute into this arbour; the walks are empty:  I would try the song the princess Amalthea bade me learn.
                                              [They go in, and sing.

I.

Why should a foolish marriage vow,
Which long ago was made,
Oblige us to each other now,
When passion is decayed? 
We loved, and we loved, as long as we could,
’Till our love was loved out in us both;
But our marriage is dead, when the pleasure is fled: 
’Twas pleasure first made it an oath.

        II.

  If I have pleasures for a friend,
    And further love in store,
  What wrong has he, whose joys did end,
    And who could give no more?
  ’Tis a madness that he
  Should be jealous of me,
  Or that I should bar him of another: 
  For all we can gain,
  Is to give ourselves pain,
  When neither can hinder the other.

  Enter PALAMEDE, in a riding-habit, and hears the Song.  Re-enter
  DORALICE and BELIZA.

Bel. Madam, a stranger.

Dor. I did not think to have had witnesses of my bad singing.

Pala. If I have erred, madam, I hope you’ll pardon the curiosity of a stranger; for I may well call myself so, after five years absence from the court:  but you have freed me from one error.

Dor. What’s that, I beseech you?

Pala. I thought good voices, and ill faces, had been inseparable; and that to be fair, and sing well, had been only the privilege of angels.

Dor. And how many more of these fine things can you say to me?

Pala. Very few, madam; for if I should continue to see you some hours longer, you look so killingly that I should be mute with wonder.

Dor. This will not give you the reputation of a wit with me.  You travelling monsieurs live upon the stock you have got abroad, for the first day or two:  to repeat with a good memory, and apply with a good grace, is all your wit; and, commonly, your gullets are sewed up, like cormorants.  When you have regorged what you have taken in, you are the leanest things in nature.