_Dido._ I feare I sawe _Æneas_ little sonne, Led by _Achates_ to the Troian fleete: If it be so, his father meanes to flye: But here he is, now _Dido_ trie thy wit. _Æneas_, wherefore goe thy men abourd?, Why are thy ships new rigd? or to what end Launcht from the hauen, lye they in the Rhode? Pardon me though I aske, loue makes me aske. _Æn._ O pardon me, if I resolue thee why: _Æneas_ will not faine with his deare loue, I must from hence: this day swift _Mercury_ When I was laying a platforme for these walles, Sent from his father _Ioue_, appeard to me, And in his name rebukt me bitterly, For lingering here, neglecting _Italy_. _Dido._ But yet _Æneas_ will not leaue his loue. _Æn._ I am commaunded by immortal _Ioue_, To leaue this towne and passe to _Italy_, And therefore must of force. _Dido._ These words proceed not from _Æneas_ heart. _Æn._ Not from my heart, for I can hardly goe, And yet I may not stay, _Dido_ farewell. _Dido._ Farewell: is this the mends for _Didos_ loue? Doe Troians vse to quit their Louers thus? Fare well may _Dido_, so _Æneas_ stay, I dye, if my _Æneas_ say farewell. _Æn._ Then let me goe and neuer say farewell, Let me goe, farewell, I must from hence. _Dido._ These words are poyson to poore _Didos_ soule, O speake like my _Æneas_, like my loue: Why look'st thou toward the sea? the time hath been When _Didos_ beautie chaungd thine eyes to her; Am I lesse faire then when thou sawest me first? O then _Æneas_, tis for griefe of thee: Say thou wilt stay in _Carthage_ with my Queene, And _Didos_ beautie will returne againe: _Æneas_, say, how canst thou take thy leaue? Wilt thou kisse _Dido_? O thy lips haue sworne To stay with _Dido_: canst thou take her hand? Thy Hand and mine haue plighted mutuall faith, Therefore vnkinde _Æneas_, must thou say, Then let me goe, and neuer say farewell. _Æn._ O Queene of _Carthage_, wert thou vgly blacke, _Æneas_ could not choose but hold thee deare, Yet must he not gainsay the Gods behest. _Dido._ The Gods, what Gods be those that seeke my death? Wherein haue I offended _Iupiter_, That he should take _Æneas_ from mine armes? O no, the Gods wey not what Louers doe, It is _Æneas_ calles _Æneas_ hence, And wofull _Dido_ by these blubbred cheekes, By this right hand, and by our spousall rites, Desires _Æneas_ to remaine with her: _Si bene quid de te merui, fuit aut tibi quidquam Dulce meum, miserere domus labentis: & istam Oro, si quis ad hac precibus locus, exue mentem._ _Æn. Desine meque tuis incendere teque querelis, Italiam non sponte sequor._