_Dido. Dido_ I am, vnlesse I be deceiu'd, And must I raue thus for a renegate? Must I make ships for him to saile away? Nothing can beare me to him but a ship, And he hath all thy fleete, what shall I doe? But dye in furie of this ouersight? I, I must be the murderer of my selfe: No but I am not, yet I will be straight. _Anna_ be glad, now haue I found a meane To rid me from these thoughts of Lunacie: Not farre from hence there is a woman famoused for arts, Daughter vnto the Nimphs _Hesperides_, Who wild me sacrifice his ticing relliques: Goe _Anna_, bid my seruants bring me fire. _Exit Anna._ _Enter Iarbus._ _Iar._ How long will _Dido_ mourne a strangers flight, That hath dishonord her and _Carthage_ both? How long shall I with griefe consume my daies, And reape no guerdon for my truest loue? _Dido._ _Iarbus_, talk not of _Æneas_, let him goe, Lay to thy hands and helpe me make a fire, That shall consume all that this stranger left, For I entend a priuate Sacrifize, To cure my minde that melts for vnkind loue. _Iar._ But afterwards will _Dido_ graunt me loue? _Dido._ I, I, _Iarbus_, after this is done, None in the world shall have my loue but thou: So, leaue me now, let none approach this place. _Exit Iarbus._ Now _Dido_, with these reliques burne thy selfe, And make _Æneas_ famous through the world, For periurie and slaughter of a Queene: Here lye the Sword that in the darksome Caue He drew, and swore by to be true to me, Thou shalt burne first, thy crime is worse then his: Here lye the garment which I cloath'd him in, When first he came on shoare, perish thou to: These letters, lines, and periurd papers all, Shall burne to cinders in this prectious flame. And now ye Gods that guide the starrie frame, And order all things at your high dispose; Graunt, though the traytors land in _Italy_, They may be still tormented with vnrest, And from mine ashes let a Conquerour rise, That may reuenge this treason to a Queene, By plowing vp his Countries with the Sword: Betwixt this land and that be neuer league, _Littora littoribus contraria, fluctibus undas Impresor: arma armis: pugnent ipsig nepotes_: Liue false _Æneas_, truest _Dido_ dyes, _Sic sic inuat ire sub umbras_. _Enter Anna._ _Anna._ O helpe _Iarbus_, _Dido_ in these flames Hath burnt her selfe, aye me, vnhappie me! _Enter Iarbus running._ _Iar._ Cursed _Iarbus_, dye to expiate The griefe that tires vpon thine inward soule, _Dido_ I come to thee, aye me _Æneas_. _Anna._ What can my teares or cryes preuaile me now? _Dido_ is dead, _Iarbus_ slaine, _Iarbus_ my deare loue, O sweet _Iarbus_, _Annas_ sole delight, What fatall destinie enuies me thus, To see my sweet _Iarbus_ slay himselfe? But _Anna_ now shall honor thee in death, And mixe her bloud with thine, this shall I doe, That Gods and men may pitie this my death, And rue our ends senceles of life or breath; Now sweet _Iarbus_ stay, I come to thee. _FINIS._