And therewithall he calde false Sinon forth,
A man compact of craft and periurie,
Whose ticing tongue was made of Hermes pipe,
To force an hundred watchfull eyes to sleepe: 
And him Epeus hauing made the horse,
With sacrificing wreathes vpon his head,
Vlysses sent to our vnhappie towne: 
Who groueling in the mire of Zanthus bankes,
His hands bound at his back, and both his eyes
Turnd vp to heauen as one resolu’d to dye,
Our Phrigian shepherd haled within the gates,
And brought vnto the Court of Priamus: 
To whom he vsed action so pitifull,
Lookes so remorcefull, vowes so forcible,
As therewithall the old man ouercome,
Kist him, imbrast him, and vnloosde his bands,
And then, O Dido pardon me.

Dido. Nay leaue not here, resolue me of the rest.

AEn. O th’inchaunting words of that base slaue,
Made him to thinke Epeus pine-tree Horse
A sacrifize t’appease Mineruas wrath: 
The rather for that one Laocoon
Breaking a speare vpon his hollow breast,
Was with two winged Serpents stung to death. 
Whereat agast, we were commanded straight
With reuerence to draw it into Troy. 
In which vnhappie worke was I employd,
These hands did helpe to hale it to the gates,
Through which it could not enter twas so huge. 
O had it neuer entred, Troy had stood. 
But Priamus impatient of delay,
Inforst a wide breach in that rampierd wall,
Which thousand battering Rams could neuer pierce,
And so came in this fatall instrument: 
At whose accursed feete as ouerioyed,
We banquetted till ouercome with wine,
Some surfetted, and others soundly slept. 
Which Sinon viewing, causde the Greekish spyes
To hast to Tenedos and tell the Campe: 
Then he vnlockt the Horse, and suddenly
From out his entrailes, Neoptolemus
Setting his speare vpon the ground, leapt forth,
And after him a thousand Grecians more,
In whose sterne faces shin’d the quenchles fire,
That after burnt the pride of Asia. 
By this the Campe was come vnto the walles,
And through the breach did march into the streetes,
Where meeting with the rest, kill kill they cryed. 
Frighted with this confused noyse, I rose,
And looking from a turret, might behold
Yong infants swimming in their parents bloud,
Headles carkasses piled vp in heapes,
Virgins halfe dead dragged by their golden haire,
And with maine force flung on a ring of pikes,
Old men with swords thrust through their aged sides,
Kneeling for mercie to a Greekish lad,
Who with steele Pol-axes dasht out their braines. 
Then buckled I mine armour, drew my sword,
And thinking to goe downe, came Hectors ghost
With ashie visage, blewish, sulphure eyes,
His armes torne from his shoulders, and his breast
Furrowd with wounds, and that which made me weepe,
Thongs at his heeles, by which Achilles horse
Drew him in triumph through the Greekish Campe,
Burst from the earth, crying, AEneas flye,
Troy is a fire, the Grecians haue the towne,