_Dido._ Hast thou forgot how many neighbour kings Were vp in armes, for making thee my loue? How _Carthage_ did rebell, _Iarbus_ storme, And all the world calles me a second _Helen_, For being intangled by a strangers lookes: So thou wouldst proue as true as _Paris_ did, Would, as faire _Troy_ was, _Carthage_ might be sackt, And I be calde a second _Helena_. Had I a sonne by thee, the griefe were lesse, That I might see _Æneas_ in his face: Now if thou goest, what canst thou leaue behind, But rather will augment then ease my woe? _Æn._ In vaine my loue thou spendst thy fainting breath, If words might moue me I were ouercome. _Dido._ And wilt thou not be mou'd with _Didos_ words? Thy mother was no Goddesse periurd man, Nor _Dardanus_ the author of thy stocke: But thou art Sprung from _Scythian Caucasus_, And Tygers of _Hircania_ gaue thee sucke: Ah foolish _Dido_ to forbeare this long! Wast thou not wrackt vpon this _Libian_ shoare, And cam'st to _Dido_ like a Fisherswaine? Repairde not I thy ships, made thee a King, And all thy needie followers Noblemen? O Serpent that came creeping from the shoare, And I for pitie harbord in my bosome, Wilt thou now slay me with thy venomed sting, And hisse at _Dido_ for preseruing thee? Goe goe and spare not, seeke out _Italy_, I hope that that which loue forbids me doe, The Rockes and Sea-gulfes will performe at large, And thou shalt perish in the billowes waies, To whom poore _Dido_ doth bequeath reuenge, I traytor, and the waues shall cast thee vp, Where thou and false _Achates_ first set foote: Which if it chaunce, Ile giue ye buriall, And weepe vpon your liueles carcases, Though thou nor he will pitie me a whit. Why star'st thou in my face? if thou wilt stay, Leape in mine armes, mine armes are open wide: If not, turne from me, and Ile turne from thee; For though thou hast the heart to say farewell, I haue not power to stay thee: is he gone? I but heele come againe, he cannot goe, He loues me to too well to serue me so: Yet he that in my sight would not relent, Will, being absent, be abdurate still. By this is he got to the water side, And, see the Sailers take him by the hand, But he shrinkes backe, and now remembring me, Returnes amaine: welcome, welcome my loue: But wheres _Æneas_? ah hees gone hees gone! _Anna._ What meanes my sister thus to raue and crye? _Dido._ O _Anna_, my _Æneas_ is abourd, And leauing me will saile to _Italy_. Once didst thou goe, and he came backe againe, Now bring him backe, and thou shalt be a Queene, And I will liue a priuate life with him. _Anna._ Wicked _Æneas_.