Alas, my sister, for thy sighs and grieving tears, Thy love abandoned and thy trusting faith betrayed! _Dido_ (419-434): If this great grief in expectation I have borne, Then truly shall I patience have to bear it still. But, sister, grant me in my woe this one request— For yonder faithless one was wont to cherish thee Alone, and trust to thee his heart; and thou alone Dost know the fav’ring time and method of approach To try the man:—go, sister, and in suppliant strain Address our haughty foe: I took no oath with Greece At wind-swept Aulis to o’erthrow the Trojan State, Nor did I send a hostile fleet to Pergama, Nor desecrate the sacred ashes of his sire, That now he should refuse to bend his ear to me. Go, say his hapless lover makes this last request: That he wait an easy voyage and a fav’ring gale. No longer do I ask a husband’s love denied, Nor yet that he abandon his fair land and realm; Time, only time, I ask, a little space of rest From this mad grief, till Fortune give me fortitude, And teach me how to bear my woe. _Anna_, preparing to go (412): O love betrayed, To what despair dost thou not drive the hearts of men? Exit Anna. Dido, at the window, watches her sister as she takes her way down to the harbor. When she can no longer see her in the gathering twilight, she turns with a sigh to her chamber. The old nurse, Barce, totters to her. Dido places her head wearily on the old woman’s shoulder. Barce, drawing her to a couch, tries to soothe her. Dido starts up in terror, as if she saw some fearful shape. She flees before it to her husband’s shrine, and is only recalled from the fancy when she finds the curtains drawn before it. Barce comes tremblingly to her. Dido in bitter remorse draws the curtains from the shrine and kneels before it. Barce hurries away and soon returns with a lighted candle, which she brings to her mistress. Dido lights the censer. Curtain. ACT IV. SCENE 2 The same chamber in Dido’s palace. The shrine of Sychæus is adorned with flowers; fire glows on the altar. Barce sits spinning at one side. Dido is pacing the room with fierce energy. She goes to the window from time to time, then renews her fierce walking to and fro. Suddenly she presses her hand to her head as if a new thought had come to her. Her face assumes an expression of cunning. She picks up a golden goblet, and with a gesture to the old woman sends her to fill it. When Barce has gone, Dido stealthily but quickly takes Æneas’ sword from the wall, and, seating herself, with trembling fingers draws it from its scabbard. She feels the edge, shrinking in terror at the thought of her intended suicide. With a shudder, she presses the cold blade against her neck.