But, as we often see, against some storm,

A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still,

The bold winds speechless and the orb below

As hush as death, anon the dreadful thunder

Doth rend the region, so, after Pyrrhus’ pause,

Aroused vengeance sets him new a-work;

And never did the Cyclops’ hammers fall

On Mars’s armour forged for proof eterne