A Jew, with red beard, and his skin spotted with leprosy, advances close to him, and chuckling horribly:
"His soul was the soul of Esau. He suffered from the disease of Bellerophon; and his mother, the woman who sold perfumes, surrendered herself to Pantherus, a Roman soldier, under the corn-sheaves, one harvest evening."
Antony eagerly lifts up his head, and gazes at them without uttering a word; then, treading right over them:
"Doctors, magicians, bishops and deacons, men and phantoms, back! back! Ye are all lies!"
The Heresiarchs—"We have martyrs, more martyrs than yours, prayers more difficult, higher outbursts of love, and ecstasies quite as protracted."
Antony—"But no revelation. No proofs."
Then all brandish in the air rolls of papyrus, tablets of wood, pieces of leather; and strips of cloth; and pushing them one before the other:
The Corinthians—"Here is the Gospel of the Hebrews!"
The Marcionites—"The Gospel of the Lord! The Gospel of Eve!"
The Encratites—"The Gospel of Thomas!"