What madness, wretched citizens, is this?
Can you believe your enemies have fled,
Or can you think that any gifts of Greeks
Are innocent of guile? So have you learned
To judge Ulysses? No, within this horse
The crafty Greeks are lying even now,
Or else its towering bulk has been contrived
To give them spying place upon our homes,
Or chance to scale our city’s battlements.
Be sure some dark design is hidden here.