_Acha._ _Æneas_ see here come the Citizens, Leaue to lament lest they laugh at our feares. _Enter Cloanthus, Sergestus, Illioneus._ _Æn._ Lords of this towne, or whatsoeuer stile Belongs vnto your name, vouchsafe of ruth To tell vs who inhabits this faire towne, What kind of people, and who gouernes them: For we are strangers driuen on this shore, And scarcely know within what Clime we are. _Illio._ I heare _Æneas_ voyce, but see him not, For none of these can be our Generall. _Acha._ Like _Illioneus_ speakes this Noble man, But _Illioneus_ goes not in such robes. _Serg._ You are _Achates_, or I deciu'd. _Acha._ _Æneas_ see _Sergestus_ or his ghost. _Illio._ He meanes _Æneas_, let vs kisse his feete. _Cloan._ It is our Captaine, see _Ascanius_. _Serg._ Liue long _Æneas_ and _Ascanius_. _Æn._ _Achates_, speake, for I am ouerioyed. _Acha._ O _Illioneus_, art thou yet aliue? _Illio._ Blest be the time I see _Achates_ face. _Cloan._ Why turnes _Æneas_ from his trustie friends? _Æn._ _Sergestus_, _Illioneus_ and the rest, Your sight amazde me, O what destinies Haue brought my sweete companions in such plight? O tell me, for I long to be resolu'd. _Illio._ Louely _Æneas_, these are Carthage walles, And here Queene _Dido_ weares th'imperiall Crowne, Who for _Troyes_ sake hath entertaind vs all, And clad vs in these wealthie robes we weare. Oft hath she askt vs vnder whom we seru'd, And when we told her she would weepe for griefe, Thinking the sea had swallowed vp thy ships, And now she sees thee how will she reioyce? _Serg._ See where her seruitors passe through the hall Bearing a banket, _Dido_ is not farre. _Illio._ Looke where she comes: _Æneas_ viewd her well. _Æn._ Well may I view her, but she sees not me. _Enter Dido and her traine._ _Dido._ What stranger art thou that doest eye me thus? _Æn._ Sometime I was a Troian mightie Queene: But _Troy_ is not, what shall I say I am? _Illio._ Renowmed _Dido_, tis our Generall: warlike _Æneas_. _Dido._ Warlike _Æneas_, and in these base robes? Goe fetch the garment which _Sicheus_ ware: Braue Prince, welcome to Carthage and to me, Both happie that _Æneas_ is our guest: Sit in this chaire and banquet with a Queene, _Æneas_ is _Æneas_, were he clad In weedes as bad as euer _Irus_ ware. _Æn._ This is no seate for one thats comfortles, May it please your grace to let _Æneas_ waite: For though my birth be great, my fortunes meane, Too meane to be companion to a Queene. _Dido._ Thy fortune may be greater then thy birth, Sit downe _Æneas_, sit in _Didos_ place, And if this be thy sonne as I suppose, Here let him sit, be merrie louely child. _Æn._ This place beseemes me not, O pardon me. _Dido._ Ile haue it so, _Æneas_ be content. _Asca._ Madame, you shall be my mother. _Dido._ And so I will sweete child: be merrie man, Heres to thy better fortune and good starres. _Æn._ In all humilitie I thanke your grace.