MOR.  Henceforth we’ll strictlier look to strangers’ lives,
How they shall marry any English wives. 
Now all men shall record this fatal day;
Lacy revived, the doctor sunk in clay.

         [The trumpets sound, exeunt omnes nisi DUNSTAN.

DUN.  Now is Earl Lacy’s house fill’d full of joy,
He and his lady wholly reconcil’d,
Their jars all ended:  those, that were like men
Transformed, turn’d unto their shapes again. 
And, gentlemen, before we make an end,
A little longer yet your patience lend,
That in your friendly censures you may see
What the infernal synod do decree;
And after judge, if we deserve to name
This play of ours, The devil and his dame.
                                     [Exit.

It thunders and lightneth.  Enter PLUTO, MINOS,
AEACUS, RHADAMANTHUS, with Fury bringing in
MALBECCO’S Ghost.

PLU.  Minos, is this the day he should return,
And bring us tidings of his twelvemonth spent!

Enter BELPHEGOR, like a devil, with horns
on his head, and AKERCOCK.

MIN.  It is, great king, and here Belphegor comes.

PLU.  His visage is more ghastly than ’twas wont. 
What ornaments are those upon his head?

BEL.  Hell, I salute thee! now I feel myself
Rid of a thousand torments.  O vile earth,
Worse for us devils than hell itself for men! 
Dread Pluto, hear thy subject’s just complaint
                [BELPHEGOR kneeleth to PLUTO. 
Proceeding from the anguish of my soul. 
O, never send me more into the earth! 
For there dwells dread and horror more than here.

PLU.  Stand forth, Belphegor, and report the truth
Of all things have betide thee in the world.

BEL.  When first, great king, I came into the earth,
I chose a wife both young and beautiful,
The only daughter to a noble earl;
But when the night came that I should her bed,
I found another laid there in her stead: 
And in the morning when I found the change,
Though I denied her, I was forc’d to take her. 
With her I liv’d in such a mild estate,
Us’d her still kindly, lov’d her tenderly;
Which she requited with such light regard,
So loose demeanour, and dishonest life,
That she was each man’s whore, that was my wife. 
No hours but gallants flock’d unto my house,
Such as she fancied for her loathsome lust,
With whom, before my face, she did not spare
To play the strumpet.  Yea, and more than this,
She made my house a stew for all resorts,
Herself a bawd to others’ filthiness: 
Which, if I once began but to reprove,
O, then, her tongue was worse than all the rest! 
No ears with patience would endure to hear her,
Nor would she ever cease, till I submit[ted]: 
And then she’d speak me fair, but wish me dead. 
A hundred drifts she laid to cut me off,
Still drawing me to dangers of my life. 
And now, my twelvemonth being near expir’d,
She poison’d me; and least that means should fail,
She entic’d a captain to’ve murdered me. 
In brief, whatever tongue can tell of ill,
All that may well be spoken of my dame.