Nature so spoke in't, that our very soldiers
Were soften'd at the scene, and, dull'd with pity,
Grew sluggish in pursuit.
Mont. Well, let them go:—
Their cause is, now, become so weak, and sickly,
That, tho' the head exist, to plot fresh mischief,
They will want limbs to execute,—Their House,
(Once strong and mighty,) like a a palsied Hercules,
Must, now, lament it has outlived its powers.—