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80 Ariayné Hilliard<br />
honor, bringer of truth. Slayer of<br />
the just and mighty, forsooth. We<br />
tried at last, too little, too late.<br />
Aeneas, we hope we changed<br />
your Fate. For now having told you<br />
all that we are privy to know, there’s<br />
nothing more for us to do. Bless’d<br />
Dido, saintly queen, full of compassion<br />
it would seem. We bore little grudge,<br />
come we not here to judge. But merely<br />
out of duty, charged with the task<br />
by Hades. Sins have we too, but forgive<br />
must we you. At the end you proved our<br />
lesson learned. All respect have you rightly<br />
earned. Let his example serve a notice to all<br />
in the mixing of love and politics<br />
wherein lies your wretched downfall.<br />
Aeneas: Shade after shade enters my sight entreating<br />
the end must be nigh, bid adieu and<br />
farewell. Only now do you achieve some<br />
peace at the end of your days. No<br />
strength have I left, once fearsome warrior<br />
is now the most fearful worrier.<br />
The gods play with men, always has<br />
this been true. But you have paid more<br />
than your fair share in debt. Too little<br />
too late, a reprieve for Dido.<br />
Love of war, is no place for the<br />
Heart. The skies darken above the air<br />
Thickens below. The weather grows cruel.<br />
An old man gives his regrets feeble<br />
though they may seem, thus with one sigh<br />
My wand’rings end . . .<br />
As he finishes his monologue, Aeneas rests his head against the pillows, never to rise as a<br />
mortal again.
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