Arb. What? thus suspected—with the sword slung o'er us
But by a single hair, and that still wavering,
To be blown down by his imperious breath
Which spared us—why, I know not.
Bel.Seek not why;
But let us profit by the interval.[n]
The hour is still our own—our power the same—
The night the same we destined. He hath changed330
Nothing except our ignorance of all
Suspicion into such a certainty