Runs gadding thither, his fell wrath t'assuage.
But not preuailing: truely she fore-tolde
The fall of Troy (with bold erected face:)
They count her hare-brain'd, mad, and ouer-bold,
To presse in presence in so graue a place:
But in meane season Paris he is gone,
To bring destruction on faire Ilion.
What, ten-yeeres siedge by force could not subuert,
That, two false traitors in one night destroi'd:
Who richly guerdon'd for their bad desert,