Exeunt.
ACT ONE, SCENE TWO
Enter Ilioneus, Cloanthus, Iarbus and Sergestus.
ILIONEUS. Follow, ye Trojans, follow this brave lord,
And plain to him the sum of your distress.
IARBUS. Why, what are you, or wherefore do you sue?
ILIONEUS. Wretches of Troy, envied of all the winds,
That crave such favour at your honour's feet,
As poor distressed misery may plead.
Save, save, O save our ships from cruel fire,
That do complain the wounds of thousand waves,
And spare our lives whom every spite pursues.
We come not, we, to wrong your Libyan gods,
Or steal your household Lares from their shrines;
Our hands are not prepared to lawless spoil,
Nor armed to offend in any kind.
Such force is far from our unweaponed thoughts,
Whose fading weal, of victory forsook,
Forbids all hope to harbour near our hearts.
IARBUS. But tell me, Trojans, Trojans if you be,
Unto what fruitful quarters were ye bound,
Before that Boreas buckled with your sails?
CLOANTHUS. There is a place, Hesperia termed by us,
An ancient empire, famoused for arms,
And fertile in fair Ceres' furrowed wealth,
Which now we call Italia, of his name
That in such peace long time did rule the same.
Thither made we,
When suddenly gloomy Orion rose
And led our ships into the shallow sands,
Whereas the southern wind with brackish breath
Dispersed them all amongst the wrackful rocks.
From thence a few of us escaped to land;
The rest, we fear, are folded in the floods.
IARBUS. Brave men-at-arms, abandon fruitless fears,
Since Carthage knows to entertain distress.
SERGESTUS. Ay, but the barbarous sort do threat our ships
And will not let us lodge upon the sands.
In multitudes they swarm unto the shore
And from the first earth interdict our feet.
IARBUS. Myself will see they shall not trouble ye.
Your men and you shall banquet in our court,
And every Trojan be as welcome here
As Jupiter to silly Baucis' house.
Come in with me. I'll bring you to my queen,
Who shall confirm my words with further deeds.
SERGESTUS. Thanks, gentle lord, for such unlooked for grace.
Might we but once more see Aeneas' face,
Then would we hope to quite such friendly turns
As shall surpass the wonder of our speech.
Exeunt.
ACT TWO, SCENE ONE
Enter Aeneas, Achates, and Ascanius.
AENEAS. Where am I now? These should be Carthage walls.
ACHATES. Why stands my sweet Aeneas thus amazed?
AENEAS. O my Achates, Theban Niobe,
Who for her sons' death wept out life and breath
And, dry with grief, was turned into a stone,
Had not such passions in her head as I.
Methinks that town there should be Troy, yon Ida's Hill,
There Xanthus' stream, because here's Priamus;
And when I know it is not, then I die.
ACHATES. And in this humour is Achates too;
I cannot choose but fall upon my knees
And kiss his hand. O, where is Hecuba?
Here she was wont to sit, but, saving air,
Is nothing here. And what is this but stone?
AENEAS. O, yet this stone doth make Aeneas weep!
And would my prayers (as Pygmalion's did)
Could give it life, that under his conduct
We might sail back to Troy and be revenged
On these hardhearted Grecians which rejoice
That nothing now is left of Priamus.
O, Priamus is left, and this is he!
Come, come aboard; pursue the hateful Greeks.
ACHATES. What means Aeneas?
AENEAS. Achates, though mine eyes say this is stone,
Yet thinks my mind that this is Priamus,
And when my grieved heart sighs and says no,
Then would it leap out to give Priam life.
O, were I not at all, so thou mightst be!
Achates, see! King Priam wags his hand!
He is alive! Troy is not overcome!
ACHATES.