Their crouching shoulders till the gangways splashWith blood, or teach them, fettered leg and arm,To dig the stiff clods of some Trojan farm.LEADER.My Prince, thy words run fast. Nor thou nor IHave knowledge yet that the Greeks mean to fly.HECTOR.What makes them light their beacons? Tell me, what?LEADER.God knows! And, for my part, I like it not.HECTOR.What, feared? Thou wouldst be feared of everything!LEADER.They never lit such light before, O King.HECTOR.They never fled, man, in such wild dismay.LEADER(yielding).’Twas all thy work.—Judge thou, and we obey.HECTOR.My word is simple. Arm and face the foe.[A sound of marching without.LEADER.Who comes? Aeneas, and in haste, as thoughFraught with some sudden tiding of the night.Enter AENEAS.AENEAS.Hector, what means it? Watchers in affrightWho gather shouting at thy doors, and thenHold midnight council, shaking all our men?HECTOR.To arms, Aeneas! Arm from head to heel!AENEAS.What is it? Tidings? Doth the Argive stealSome march, some ambush in the day’s eclipse?