_Del._ Be provident, And tempt not the gods dooms; stop not the glory They are ready to fix on ye. Ye are a fool then; Chearful and grateful takers, the gods love, And such as wait their pleasures with full hopes; The doubtful and distrustful man Heaven frowns at. What I have told you by my inspiration, I tell ye once again, must, and shall find ye. _Dio._ But when? or how? _Del. Cum Aprum interfeceris._ _Dio._ I have kill'd many. _Del._ Not the Boar they point ye; Nor must I reveal further, till you clear it. The lots of glorious men are wrapt in mysteries, And so deliver'd; common and slight Creatures, That have their ends as open as their actions, Easie and open fortunes follow. _Max._ I shall try How deep your inspiration lies hid in ye, And whether your brave spirit have a buckler To keep this arrow off, I'll make you smoke else. _Dio._ Knowing my fortune so precisely, punctually, And that it must fall without contradiction, Being a stranger, of no tye unto ye, Methinks you should be studied in your own, In your own destiny, methinks, most perfect, And every hour, and every minute, Mother, So great a care should Heaven have of her Ministers; Methinks your fortunes both ways should appear to ye, Both to avoid and take. Can the Stars now, And all those influences you receive into you, Or secret inspirations ye make shew of, If an hard fortune hung, and were now ready To pour it self upon your life, deliver ye? Can they now say, take heed? _Del._ Ha? pray ye come hither. _Max._ I would know that; I fear your Devil will cozen ye, And stand as close as ye can, I shall be with ye. _Del._ I find a present ill. _Dio._ How? _Del._ But I scorn it. _Max._ Do ye so? do ye so? _Del._ Yes, and laugh at it, _Diocles_. Is it not strange these wild and foolish men Should dare to oppose the power of Destiny? That power the gods shake at? Look yonder, Son. _Max._ Have ye spy'd me? then have at ye. _Del._ Do, shoot boldly, Hit me, and spare not, if thou canst. _Dio._ Shoot, Cousin. _Max._ I cannot; mine arm's dead, I have no feeling; Or if I could shoot, so strong is her arm'd Vertue, She would catch the arrow flying. _Del._ Poor doubtful people, I pity your weak faiths. _Dio._ Your mercy, Mother, And from this hour a Deity I crown ye. _Del._ No more of that. _Max._ O let my Prayers prevail too, Here like a tree, I dwell else; free me, Mother, And greater than great Fortune, I'll adore thee. _Del._ Be free again, and have more pure thoughts in ye. _Dio._ Now I believe your words most constantly, And when I have that power ye have promis'd to me. _Del._ Remember then your Vow, my Niece _Drusilla_, I mean to marry her, and then ye prosper.