Mel. First, you will engage—­that—­

Pala. Fa, la, la, la, &c. [Louder.

Mel. Will you hear the conditions?

Pala. No; I will hear no conditions; I am resolved to win you en Francois:  To be very airy, with abundance of noise, and no sense:  Fa la, la, la, &c.

Mel. Hold, hold:  I am vanquished with your gayete d’esprit. I am yours, and will be yours, sans nulle reserve, ni condition:  And let me die, if I do not think myself the happiest nymph in Sicily—­My dear French dear, stay but a minuite, till I raccommode myself with the princess; and then I am yours, jusqu’ a la mort.  Allons donc.—­ [Exeunt MEL.  PHIL.

Palu. [Solus, fanning himself with his hat.] I never thought before that wooing was so laborious an exercise; if she were worth a million, I have deserved her; and now, methinks too, with taking all this pains for her, I begin to like her.  ’Tis so; I have known many, who never cared for hare nor partridge, but those they caught themselves would eat heartily:  The pains, and the story a man tells of the taking them, makes the meat go down more pleasantly.  Besides, last night I had a sweet dream of her, and, gad, she I have once dreamed of, I am stark mad till I enjoy her, let her be never so ugly.

  Enter DORALICE.

Dor. Who’s that you are so mad to enjoy, Palamede?

Pala. You may easily imagine that, sweet Dorarlice.

Dor. More easily than you think I can:  I met just now with a certain man, who came to you with letters from a certain old gentleman, y’cleped your father; whereby I am given to understand, that to-morrow you are to take an oath in the church to be grave henceforward, to go ill-dressed and slovenly, to get heirs for your estate, and to dandle them for your diversion; and, in short, that love and courtship are to be no more.

Pala. Now have I so much shame to be thus apprehended in the manner, that I can neither speak nor look upon you; I have abundance of grace in me, that I find:  But if you have any spark of true friendship in you, retire with me a little into the next room, that hath a couch or bed in it, and bestow your charity upon a dying man!  A little comfort from a mistress, before a man is going to give himself in marriage, is as good as a lusty dose of strong-water to a dying malefactor:  it takes away the sense of hell and hanging from him.

Dor. No, good Palamede, I must not be so injurious to your bride:  ’Tis ill drawing from the bank to-day, when all your ready money is payable to-morrow.

Pala. A wife is only to have the ripe fruit, that falls of itself; but a wise man will always preserve a shaking for a mistress.

Dor. But a wife for the first quarter is a mistress.