PLU.  We are contented, he shall go with thee.

MIN.  But what meantime decrees your majesty
Of poor Malbecco?

PLU.  He shall rest with us,
Until Belphegor do return again;
And as he finds, so will we give his doom. 
Come, let us go and set our spyal[432] forth,
Who for a time must make experiment,
If hell be not on earth as well as here.

[Exeunt.

[It thunders and lightens; the devils go forth;
DUNSTAN, rising, runneth about the stage, laying
about him with his staff.

ST DUN.  Satan, avaunt! thou art man’s enemy: 
Thou shalt not live amongst us so unseen,
So to betray us to the prince of darkness. 
Satan, avaunt!  I do conjure thee hence.—­
What, dream’st thou, Dunstan? yea, I dream’d indeed. 
Must then the devil come into the world? 
Such is, belike, the infernal king’s decree;
Well, be it so; for Dunstan is content. 
Mark well the process of the devil’s disguise,
Who happily may learn you to be wise. 
Women, beware, and make your bargains well,
The devil, to choose a wife, is come from hell.

[Exit.

SCENE II.

    Enter MORGAN, Earl of London, LACY, Earl of Kent,
    with MILES FORREST.

MOR.  My Lord of Kent, your honour knows my mind,
That ever has, and still does honour you,
Accounting it my daughter’s happiness
(Amidst her other infelicities),
That you vouchsafe to love her as you do. 
How gladly I would grant your lordship’s suit
The heavens can witness, which with ruthless ears
Have often heard my yet unpitied plaints;
And could I find some means for her recovery,
None but yourself should have her to your wife.

LACY.  My Lord of London, now long time it is,
Since Lacy first was suitor to your daughter,
The fairest Honorea, in whose eyes
Honour itself in love’s sweet bosom lies. 
What shall we say, or seem to strive with heaven,
Who speechless sent her first into the world? 
In vain it is for us to think to loose
That which by nature’s self we see is bound. 
Her beauty, with her other virtues join’d,
Are gifts sufficient, though she want a tongue: 
And some will count it virtue in a woman
Still to be bound to unoffending silence;
Though I could wish with half of all my lands,
That she could speak:  but since it may not be,
’Twere vain to imprison beauty with her speech.

FOR.  Have you not heard, my lords, the wondrous fame
Of holy Dunstan, Abbot of Glastonbury? 
What miracles he hath achiev’d of late;
And how the rood of Dovercourt[433] did speak,
Confirming his opinion to be true: 
And how the holy consistory fell,
With all the monks that were assembled there,
Saving one beam, whereon this Dunstan sat;
And other more such miracles as these. 
They say he is of such religious life,
That angels often use to talk with him,
And tell to him the secrets of the heavens. 
No question, if your honours would but try,
He could procure my lady for to speak.