Actus 2.
Enter Æneas, Achates, and Ascanius.
Æn. Where am I now? these should be Carthage walles.
Acha. Why stands my sweete Æneas thus amazde?
Æn. O my Achates, Theban Niobe,
Who for her sonnes death wept out life and breath,
And drie with griefe was turnd into a stone,
Had not such passions in her head as I.
Me thinkes that towne there should be Troy, yon Idas hill,
There Zanthus streame, because here's Priamus,
And when I know it is not, then I dye.
Ach. And in this humor is Achates to,
I cannot choose but fall vpon my knees,
And kisse his hand: O where is Hecuba,
Here she was wont to sit, but sauing ayre
Is nothing here, and what is this but stone?
Æn. O yet this stone doth make Æneas weepe,
And would my prayers (as Pigmalions did)
Could giue it life, that vnder his conduct
We might saile backe to Troy and be reuengde
On these hard harted Grecians; which reioyce
That nothing now is left of Priamus:
O Priamus is left and this is he,
Come, come abourd, pursue the hatefull Greekes.
Acha. What means Æneas?
Æn. Achates though mine eyes say this is stone, Yet thinkes my minde that this is Priamus: And when my grieued heart sighes and sayes no, Then would it leape out to giue Priam life: O were I not at all so thou mightst be. Achates, see King Priam wags his hand, He is aliue, Troy is not ouercome.
Ach. Thy mind Æneas that would haue it so Deludes thy eye sight, Priamus is dead.