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. MOR. Believe me, Forrest, thou hast well advis'd, For I have heard of late much talk of him. LACY. Is not that Dunstan he who check'd the king About his privy dealing with the nun, And made him to do penance for the fault? MOR. The same is he; for whom I straight will send. Miles Forrest shall in post to Glastonbury, And gently pray the abbot for my sake To come to London. Sure, I hope the heavens Have ordain'd Dunstan to do Morgan good. LACY. Let us despatch him thither presently; For I myself will stay for his return, And see some end or other, ere I go. MOR. Come, then, Lord Lacy: Forrest, come away. [_Exeunt_. SCENE III. _Enter_ BELPHEGOR, _attired like a physician_; AKERCOCK, _his man, in a tawny coat_. BEL. Now is Belphegor, an incarnate devil, Come to the earth to seek him out a dame: Hell be my speed! and so, I hope, it will. In lovely London are we here arrived; Where, as I hear, the earl hath a fair daughter So full of virtue and soft modesty, That yet she never gave a man foul word. AKER. Marry, indeed, they say she cannot speak. BEL. For this cause have I taken this disguise, And will profess me a physician, Come up on purpose for to cure the lady: Marry, no may[434] shall bind me but herself, And she I do intend shall be my wife. AKER. But, master, tell me one thing by the way: Do you not mean that I shall marry too? BEL. No, Akercock, thou shalt be still unwed; For if they be as bad as is reported, One wife will be enough to tire us both. AKER. O, then you mean that I shall now and then Have, as it were, a course at base[435] with her.