Dio. She is a holy Druid,
A woman noted for that faith, that piety,
Belov'd of Heaven.
Max. Heaven knows, I do not believe it:
Indeed I must confess they are excellent Juglers;
Their age upon some fools too flings a confidence:
But what grounds have they? what elements to work on:
Show me but that; the Sieve, and Sheers? a learned one,
I have no patience to dispute this Question,
'Tis so ridiculous; I think the Devil does help 'em,
Or (rather mark me well) abuse 'em, Uncle;
For they are as fit to deal with him; these old women,
They are as jump, and squar'd out to his nature—
Dio. Thou hast a perfect malice.
Max. So I would have
Against these purblind Prophets; for look ye, Sir,
Old women will lie monstrously; so will the Devil,
Or else he has had much wrong; upon my knowledge,
Old women are malicious; so is he;
They are proud and covetous, revengeful, lecherous;
All which are excellent attributes of the Devil;
They would at least seem holy; so would he;
And to vail over these villainies, they would prophesie;
He gives them leave now and then to use their cunnings,
Which is, to kill a Cow, or blast a Harvest,
Make young Pigs pipe themselves to death, choak poultry,
And chase a dairy-wench into a feaver
With pumping for her butter.
But when he makes these Agents to raise Emperours,
When he disposes Fortune as his Servant,
And tyes her to old wives tails—
Dio. Go thy ways,
Thou art a learned Scholar, against credit,
You hear the Prophecie?
Max. Yes, and I laugh at it;
And so will any man can tell but twenty,
That is not blind, as you are blind and ignorant:
Do you think she knows your fortune?
Dio. I do think it.
Max. I know she has the name of a rare Sooth-sayer;
But do you in your Conscience believe her holy?
Inspir'd with such prophetick Fire?
Dio. Yes, in my conscience.
Max. And that you must upon necessity,
From her words, be a Cæsar?