_Dido._ O, had that ticing strumpet ne'er been born!-- Trojan, thy ruthful tale hath made me sad: Come, let us think upon some pleasing sport, To rid me from these melancholy thoughts. [_Exeunt all except_ ASCANIUS, _whom_ VENUS, _entering with_ CUPID _at another door, takes by the sleeve as he is going off_. _Ven._ Fair child, stay thou with Dido's waiting-maid: I'll give thee sugar-almonds, sweet conserves, A silver girdle, and a golden purse, And this young prince shall be thy playfellow. _Asc._ Are you Queen Dido's son? _Cup._ I; and my mother gave me this fine bow. 310 _Asc._ Shall I have such a quiver and a bow? _Ven._ Such bow, such quiver, and such golden shafts, Will Dido give to sweet Ascanius. For Dido's sake I take thee in my arms, And stick these spangled feathers in thy hat: Eat comfits in mine arms, and I will sing. [_Sings._ Now is he fast asleep; and in his grove,[477] Amongst green brakes, I'll lay Ascanius, And strew him with sweet-smelling violets, Blushing roses, purple hyacinth: 320 These milk-white doves shall be his centronels,[478] Who, if that any seek to do him hurt, Will quickly fly to Cytherea's[479] fist. Now, Cupid, turn thee to Ascanius' shape, And go to Dido, who, instead of him, Will set thee on her lap, and play with thee: Then touch her white breast with this arrow-head, That she may dote upon Æneas' love, And by that means repair his broken ships, Victual his soldiers, give him wealthy gifts, 330 And he, at last, depart to Italy, Or else in Carthage make his kingly throne. _Cup._ I will, fair mother; and so play my part As every touch shall wound Queen Dido's heart. [_Exit._ _Ven._ Sleep, my sweet nephew,[480] in these cooling shades, Free from the murmur of these running streams, The cry of beasts, the rattling of the winds, Or whisking of these leaves: all shall be still, And nothing interrupt thy quiet sleep, Till I return, and take thee hence again. 340 [_Exit._ ACT III. SCENE I. _Enter_[481] CUPID _as_ ASCANIUS. _Cup._ Now, Cupid, cause the Carthaginian queen To be enamour'd of thy brother's looks: Convey this golden arrow in thy sleeve, Lest she imagine thou art Venus' son; And when she strokes thee softly on the head, Then shall I touch her breast and conquer her. _Enter_ DIDO, ANNA, _and_ IARBAS. _Iar._ How long, fair Dido, shall I pine for thee? 'Tis not enough that thou dost grant me love, But that I may enjoy what I desire: That love is childish which consists in words. 10