Led faire Creusa my beloued wife,
When thou Achates with thy sword mad’st way,
And we were round inuiron’d with the Greekes: 
O there I lost my wife:  and had not we
Fought manfully, I had not told this tale: 
Yet manhood would not serue, of force we fled,
And as we went vnto our ships, thou knowest
We sawe Cassandra sprauling in the streetes,
Whom Aiax rauisht in Dianas Fawne,
Her cheekes swolne with sighes, her haire all rent,
Whom I tooke vp to beare vnto our ships;
But suddenly the Grecians followed vs,
And I alas, was forst to let her lye. 
Then got we to our ships, and being abourd,
Polixena cryed out, AEneas stay,
The Greekes pursue me, stay and take me in. 
Moued with her voyce, I lept into the sea,
Thinking to beare her on my backe abourd: 
For all our ships were launcht into the deepe,
And as I swomme, she standing on the shoare,
Was by the cruell Mirmidons surprizd,
And after by that Pirrhus sacrifizde.

Dido. I dye with melting ruth, AEneas leaue.

Anna. O what became of aged Hecuba?

Iar. How got AEneas to the fleete againe?

Dido. But how scapt Helen, she that causde this warre?

AEn. Achates speake, sorrow hath tired me quite.

Acha. What happened to the Queene we cannot shewe,
We heare they led her captiue into Greece,
As for AEneas he swomme quickly backe,
And Helena betraied Diiphobus
Her Louer, after Alexander dyed,
And so was reconcil’d to Menelaus.

Dido. O had that ticing strumpet nere been borne: 
Troian, thy ruthfull tale hath made me sad: 
Come let vs thinke vpon some pleasing sport,
To rid me from these melancholly thoughts.

Exeunt omnes.

Enter Venus at another doore, and takes Ascanius by the sleeve.

Venus. Faire child stay thou with Didos waiting maide,
Ile giue thee Sugar-almonds, sweete Conserues,
A siluer girdle, and a golden purse,
And this yong Prince shall be thy playfellow.

Asca. Are you Queene Didos sonne?

Cupid. I, and my mother gaue me this fine bow.

Asca. Shall I haue such a quiuer and a bow?

Venus. Such bow, such quiuer, and such golden shafts,
Will Dido giue to sweete Ascanius: 
For Didos sake I take thee in my armes,
And sticke these spangled feathers in thy hat,
Eate Comfites in mine armes, and I will sing. 
Now is he fast asleepe, and in this groue
Amongst greene brakes Ile lay Ascanius,
And strewe him with sweete smelling Violets,
Blushing Roses, purple Hyacinthe: 
These milke white Doues shall be his Centronels: