Sir Reu. Nay, madam, but it were not amiss if you knew first whether Scattergood will live with you, or no. Release your alimony, and I'll resign my right in your propriety;[180] and in my widowed life mourn in sack: lo, infinitely.[181]
Duke. This juncto must be fix'd on firmer ground;
Coolness of fancy acts not on the object
Which it pretends to love. Join hearts to hands,
And in this second contract reunite
What was so long divided. Love's a cement
Admits no other allay but itself
To work upon th' affections. [To the husbands.] Be it yours
(For virile spirits should be so demean'd),
With pleasing candour to remit what's pass'd,
And with mild glosses to interpret thus
In their defence still to the better sense;
"Their frailties in your ladies wrought these failings,
Which pious pity should commiserate,
And seal it with indulgence. [To the ladies.] Then intend
Your office, madams: which is to redeem
Your late-abused time: which may be deem'd
Richly recover'd, being once redeem'd."
Ladies. May all our actions close with discontent
When we oppose their humours.
Knights. Say and hold;
And this act of oblivion shall be sign'd.
[They salute, and take hands.
Duke. This does content us highly; powers above
Makes lovers' breach renewal of their love.[182]
Chris. And must Christabel, too, pack home to her husband without her ale-money?
Duke. Or to thy death an aged prioress!
Chris. Nay, but by your good favour I'll meddle with none of your priorities; I'll rather go mumble a crust at home, and chuck my old Jocelin.
Duke. Nor is this all; our sentence must extend
Unto those ladies' favourites, whose hours,
Strangely debauch'd, make spoil of women's honours.