_Serg._ I but the barbarous sort doe threat our ships,
And will not let vs lodge vpon the sands:
In multitudes they swarme vnto the shoare,
And from the first earth interdict our feete.

_Iar._ My selfe will see they shall not trouble ye,
Your men and you shall banquet in our Court,
And euery Troian be as welcome here,
As _Iupiter_ to sillie _Vausis_ house:
Come in with me, Ile bring you to my Queene,
Who shall confirme my words with further deedes.

_Serg._ Thankes gentle Lord for such vnlookt for grace,
Might we but once more see _Æneas_ face,
Then would we hope to quite such friendly turnes,
As shall surpasse the wonder of our speech.




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?