WHY shou’d a foolish marriage vow,
Which long ago was made,
Oblige us to each other now,
When passion is decay’d?
We lov’d, and we lov’d
As long as we cou’d,
Till love was lov’d out of us both:
But our marriage is dead,
When the pleasure is fled;
‘Twas pleasure first made it an oath.
If I have pleasures for a friend,
And further love in store,
What wrong has he whose joys did end,
And who cou’d give no more?
‘Tis a madness that he
Shou’d be jealous of me,
Or that I shou’d bar him of another;
For all we can gain,
Is to give our selves pain,
When neither can hinder the other.