_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.

_Æn._ Ah _Troy_ is sackt, and _Priamus_ is dead,
And why should poore _Æneas_ be aliue?

_Asca._ Sweete father leaue to weepe, this is not he:
For were it _Priam_ he would smile on me.

_Acha._ _Æneas_ see here come the Citizens,
Leaue to lament lest they laugh at our feares.

_Enter Cloanthus, Sergestus, Illioneus._

_Æn._ Lords of this towne, or whatsoeuer stile
Belongs vnto your name, vouchsafe of ruth
To tell vs who inhabits this faire towne,
What kind of people, and who gouernes them:
For we are strangers driuen on this shore,
And scarcely know within what Clime we are.

_Illio._ I heare _Æneas_ voyce, but see him not,
For none of these can be our Generall.

_Acha._ Like _Illioneus_ speakes this Noble man,
But _Illioneus_ goes not in such robes.