To whom the Tuscan, soon as opening his eyes on the light
he drank in the heaven and regained his sense: “Insulting
foe, why reproach me and menace me with death? You
may kill me without crime: I came not to battle to be 35
spared, nor was that the league which my Lausus ratified
with you for his father. One boon I ask, in the name of
that grace, if any there be, which is due to a vanquished
enemy: suffer my corpse to be interred. The hot hatred
of my subjects, well I know, is blazing all round me: screen
me, I pray, from their fury, and vouchsafe me a share in