Tum Drances idem infensus, quem gloria Turni obliqua invidia stimulisque agitabat amaris, largus opum et lingua melior, sed frigida bello dextera, consiliis habitus non futtilis auctor, seditione potens (genus huic materna superbum nobilitas dabat, incertum de patre ferebat), surgit et his onerat dictis atque aggerat iras: Rem nulli obscuram nostrae nec vocis egentem consulis, o bone rex: cuncti se scire fatentur quid fortuna ferat populi, sed dicere mussant.
Then Drances, hostile as before, whom the renown of Turnus goaded with the bitter stings of furtive envy, lavish of wealth and valiant of tongue, though his hand was cold in battle, in counsel deemed no mean adviser, in faction strong (his mothers high birth ennobled his lineage; from his father he drew obscure rank), rises and with these words loads and heaps high their wrath: A subject dark to no one and needing no voice of ours, gracious king, you consult us on. All admit that they know what course the public fortune prompts, but they shrink from speech.