_Dido._ But tell them none shall gaze on him but I, Lest their grosse eye-beames taint my louers cheekes: _Anna_, good sister _Anna_ goe for him, Lest with these sweete thoughts I melt cleane away. _Anna._ Then sister youle abiure _Iarbus_ loue? _Dido._ Yet must I heare that lothsome name againe? Runne for _Æneas_, or Ile flye to him. _Exit Anna._ _Cupid._ You shall not hurt my father when he comes. _Dido._ No, for thy sake Ile loue thy father well. O dull conceipted _Dido_, that till now Didst neuer thinke _Æneas_ beautifull: But now for quittance of this ouersight, Ile make me bracelets of his golden haire, His glistering eyes shall be my looking glasse, His lips an altar, where Ile offer vp As many kisses as the Sea hath sands, In stead of musicke I will heare him speake, His lookes shall be my only Librarie, And thou _Æneas, Didos_ treasurie, In whose faire bosome I will locke more wealth, Then twentie thousand Indiaes can affoord: O here he comes, loue, loue, giue _Dido_ leaue To be more modest then her thoughts admit, Lest I be made a wonder to the world. _Achates_, how doth _Carthage_ please your Lord? _Acha._ That will _Æneas_ shewe your maiestie. _Dido._ _Æneas_ art thou there? _Æn._ I vnderstand your highnesse sent for me. _Dido._ No, but now thou art here, tell me in sooth, In what might _Dido_ highly pleasure thee. _Æn._ So much haue I receiu'd at _Didos_ hands, As without blushing I can aske no more: Yet Queene of _Affricke_, are my ships vnrigd, My Sailes all rent in sunder with the winde, My Oares broken, and my Tackling lost, Yea all my Nauie split with Rockes and Shelfes: Nor Sterne nor Anchor haue our maimed Fleete, Our Masts the furious windes strooke ouer bourd: Which piteous wants if _Dido_ will supplie, We will account her author of our liues. _Dido._ _Æneas_, Ile repaire thy Troian ships, Conditionally that thou wilt stay with me, And let _Achates_ saile to _Italy_: Ile giue thee tackling made of riueld gold, Wound on the barkes of odoriferous trees, Oares of massie Iuorie full of holes, Through which the water shall delight to play: Thy Anchors shall be hewed from Christall Rockes, Which if thou lose shall shine aboue the waues; The Masts whereon thy swelling sailes shall hang, Hollow Pyramides of siluer plate: The sailes of foulded Lawne, where shall be wrought The warres of _Troy_, but not _Troyes_ ouerthrow: For ballace, emptie _Didos_ treasurie, Take what ye will, but leaue _Æneas_ here. _Achates_, thou shalt be so meanly clad, As Seaborne Nymphes shall swarme about thy ships, And wanton Mermaides court thee with sweete songs, Flinging in fauours of more soueraigne worth, Then _Thetis_ hangs about _Apolloes_ necke, So that _Æneas_ may but stay with me. _Æn._ Wherefore would _Dido_ haue _Æneas_ stay?