I conjure you by that which you profess—
Howe’er you come to know it—answer me.
Though you untie the winds and let them fight
Against the churches, though the yeasty waves
Confound and swallow navigation up,
Though bladed corn be lodged and trees blown down,
Though castles topple on their warders’ heads,
Though palaces and pyramids do slope
Their heads to their foundations, though the treasure
Of nature’s germens tumble all together,
Even till destruction sicken, answer me
To what I ask you.
I don’t know how you know the things you do, but I insist that you answer my questions. I command you in the name of whatever dark powers you serve. I don’t care if you unleash violent winds that tear down churches, make the foamy waves overwhelm ships and send sailors to their deaths, flatten crops and trees, make castles fall down on their inhabitants’ heads, make palaces and pyramids collapse, and mix up everything in nature. Tell me what I want to know.