I find (quoth she) my goods and chattels Are like to prove but mere drawn battels; For still the longer we contend, 535 We are but farther off the end. But granting now we should agree, What is it you expect from me? Your plighted faith (quoth he) and word You past in heaven on record, 540 Where all contracts, to have and t' hold, Are everlastingly enroll'd: And if 'tis counted treason here To raze records, 'tis much more there. Quoth she, There are no bargains driv'n, 545 Or marriages clapp'd up, in Heav'n, And that's the reason, as some guess, There is no heav'n in marriages; Two things that naturally press Too narrowly to be at ease. 550 Their bus'ness there is only love, Which marriage is not like t' improve: Love, that's too generous to abide To be against its nature ty'd; Or where 'tis of itself inclin'd, 555 It breaks loose when it is confin'd; And like the soul, it's harbourer. Debarr'd the freedom of the air, Disdains against its will to stay, But struggles out, and flies away; 560 And therefore never can comply To endure the matrimonial tie, That binds the female and the male, Where th' one is but the other's bail; Like Roman gaolers, when they slept, 565 Chain'd to the prisoners they kept Of which the true and faithfull'st lover Gives best security to suffer. Marriage is but a beast, some say, That carries double in foul way; 570 And therefore 'tis not to b' admir'd, It should so suddenly be tir'd; A bargain at a venture made, Between two partners in a trade; (For what's inferr'd by t' have and t' hold, 575 But something past away, and sold?) That as it makes but one of two, Reduces all things else as low; And, at the best, is but a mart Between the one and th' other part, 580 That on the marriage-day is paid, Or hour of death, the bet is laid; And all the rest of better or worse, Both are but losers out of purse. For when upon their ungot heirs 585 Th' entail themselves, and all that's theirs, What blinder bargain e'er was driv'n, Or wager laid at six and seven? To pass themselves away, and turn Their childrens' tenants e're they're born? 590 Beg one another idiot To guardians, e'er they are begot; Or ever shall, perhaps, by th' one, Who's bound to vouch 'em for his own, Though got b' implicit generation, 595 And gen'ral club of all the nation; For which she's fortify'd no less Than all the island, with four seas; Exacts the tribute of her dower, in ready insolence and power; 600 And makes him pass away to have And hold, to her, himself, her slave, <k> More wretched than an ancient villain, Condemn'd to drudgery and tilling;