Why stood I stupid else, and missed a blow,
Which heaven and daring folly made so fair?
_Qu. M._ I still maintain, 'twas wisely done to spare him.
_Gril._ A pox on this unseasonable wisdom!
He was a fool to come; if so, then they,
Who let him go, were somewhat.
_King._ The event, the event will shew us what we were;
For, like a blazing meteor hence he shot,
And drew a sweeping fiery train along.--
O Paris, Paris, once my seat of triumph,
But now the scene of all thy king's misfortunes;
Ungrateful, perjured, and disloyal town,
Which by my royal presence I have warmed
So long, that now the serpent hisses out,
And shakes his forked tongue at majesty,
While I--
_Qu. M._ While you lose time in idle talk,
And use no means for safety and prevention.
_King._ What can I do? O mother, Abbot, Grillon!
All dumb! nay, then 'tis plain, my cause is desperate.
Such an overwhelming ill makes grief a fool,
As if redress were past.
_Gril._ I'll go to the next sheriff,
And beg the first reversion of a rope:
Dispatch is all my business; I'll hang for you.
_Abb._ 'Tis not so bad, as vainly you surmise;
Some space there is, some little space, some steps
Betwixt our fate and us: our foes are powerful,
But yet not armed, nor marshalled into order;
Believe it, sir, the Guise will not attempt,
Till he have rolled his snow-ball to a heap.
_King.
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