Dido. What, darest thou looke a Lyon in the face?

Asca. I, and outface him to, doe what he can.

Anna. How like his father speaketh he in all?

AEn. And mought I liue to see him sacke rich Thebes, And loade his speare with Grecian Princes heads, Then would I wish me with Anchises Tombe, And dead to honour that hath brought me vp.

Iar. And might I liue to see thee shipt away,
And hoyst aloft on Neptunes hideous hilles,
Then would I wish me in faire Didos armes,
And dead to scorne that hath pursued me so.

AEn. Stoute friend Achates, doest thou know this wood?

Acha. As I remember, here you shot the Deere,
That sau’d your famisht souldiers liues from death,
When first you set your foote vpon the shoare,
And here we met fair Venus virgine like,
Bearing her bowe and quiuer at her backe.

AEn. O how these irksome labours now delight,
And ouerioy my thoughts with their escape: 
Who would not vndergoe all kind of toyle,
To be well stor’d with such a winters tale?

Dido. AEneas, leaue these dumpes and lets away, Some to the mountaines, some vnto the soyle, You to the vallies, thou vnto the house.

Exeunt omnes:  manent.

Iar. I, this it is which wounds me to the death,
To see a Phrigian far fet to the sea,
Preferd before a man of maiestie: 
O loue, O hate, O cruell womens hearts,
That imitate the Moone in euery chaunge,
And like the Planets euer loue to raunge: 
What shall I doe thus wronged with disdaine? 
Reuenge me on AEneas, or on her: 
On her? fond man, that were to warre gainst heauen,
And with one shaft prouoke ten thousand darts: 
This Troians end will be thy enuies aime,
Whose bloud will reconcile thee to content,
And make loue drunken with thy sweete desire: 
But Dido that now holdeth him so deare,
Will dye with very tidings of his death: 
But time will discontinue her content,
And mould her minde vnto newe fancies shapes: 
O God of heauen, turne the hand of fate
Vnto that happie day of my delight,
And then, what then? Iarbus shall but loue: 
So doth he now, though not with equall gaine,
That resteth in the riuall of thy paine,
Who nere will cease to soare till he be slaine. Exit.

The storme.  Enter AEneas and Dido in the Caue at seuerall times.

Dido. AEneas.

AEn. Dido.

Dido. Tell me deare loue, how found you out this Caue?

AEn. By chance sweete Queene, as Mars and Venus met.

Dido. Why, that was in a net, where we are loose, And yet I am not free, oh would I were.

AEn. Why, what is it that Dido may desire And not obtaine, be it in humaine power?