Dor. Whatever your sin was, mine’s the punishment.

Rho. My comfort is, thou art not immortal; and, when that blessed, that divine day comes of thy departure, I’m resolved I’ll make one holiday more in the almanack for thy sake.

Dor. Ay, you had need make a holiday for me, for I am sure you have made me a martyr.

Rho. Then, setting my victorious foot upon thy head, in the first hour of thy silence, (that is, the first hour thou art dead, for I despair of it before) I will swear by thy ghost,—­an oath as terrible to me as Styx is to the gods,—­never more to be in danger of the banes of matrimony.

Dor. And I am resolved to marry the very same day thou diest, if it be but to show how little I’m concerned for thee.

Rho. Pray thee, Doralice, why do we quarrel thus a-days? ha! this is but a kind of heathenish life, and does not answer the ends of marriage.  If I have erred, propound what reasonable atonement may be made before we sleep, and I will not be refractory; but withal consider, I have been married these three years, and be not too tyrannical.

Dor. What should you talk of a peace a-bed, when you can give no security for performance of articles?

Rho. Then, since we must live together, and both of us stand upon our terms, as to matters of dying first, let us make ourselves as merry as we can with our misfortunes.  Why, there’s the devil on’t! if thou could’st make my enjoying thee but a little easy, or a little more unlawful, thou should’st see what a termagant lover I would prove.  I have taken such pains to enjoy thee, Doralice, that I have fancied thee all the fine women of the town—­to help me out:  But now there’s none left for me to think on, my imagination is quite jaded.  Thou art a wife, and thou wilt be a wife, and I can make thee another no longer. [Exit RHO.

Dor. Well, since thou art a husband, and wilt be a husband, I’ll try if I can find out another.  ’Tis a pretty time we women have on’t, to be made widows while we are married.  Our husbands think it reasonable to complain, that we are the same, and the same to them, when we have more reason to complain, that they are not the same to us.  Because they cannot feed on one dish, therefore we must be starved.  ’Tis enough that they have a sufficient ordinary provided, and a table ready spread for them:  If they cannot fall too, and eat heartily, the fault is theirs; and ’tis pity, methinks, that the good creature should be lost, when many a poor sinner would be glad on’t.

  Enter MELANTHA and ARTEMIS to her.

Mel. Dear, my dear, pity me, I am so chagrin to day, and have had the most signal affront at court!  I went this afternoon to do my devoir to princess Amalthea, found her, conversed with her, and helped to make her court some half an hour; after which, she went to take the air, chose out two ladies to go with her, that came in after me, and left me most barbarously behind her.