“Now buckling on my sword again and working my left arm through the shieldstrap, grasping it tightly, just as I was rushing out, right at the doors my wife, Creusa, look, flung herself at my feet and hugged my knees and raised our little Iulus up to his father. ‘If you are going off to die,’ she begged, 840 ‘then take us with you too, to face the worst together. But if your battles teach you to hope in arms, the arms you buckle on, your first duty should be to guard our house. Desert us, leave us now—to whom? Whom? Little Iulus, your father and your wife, so I once was called.’ “So
