AEn.  Desine meque tuis incendere teque querelis, Italiam non sponte sequor.

Dido. Hast thou forgot how many neighbour kings
Were vp in armes, for making thee my loue? 
How Carthage did rebell, Iarbus storme,
And all the world calles me a second Helen,
For being intangled by a strangers lookes: 
So thou wouldst proue as true as Paris did,
Would, as faire Troy was, Carthage might be sackt,
And I be calde a second Helena. 
Had I a sonne by thee, the griefe were lesse,
That I might see AEneas in his face: 
Now if thou goest, what canst thou leaue behind,
But rather will augment then ease my woe?

AEn. In vaine my loue thou spendst thy fainting breath, If words might moue me I were ouercome.

Dido. And wilt thou not be mou’d with Didos words? 
Thy mother was no Goddesse periurd man,
Nor Dardanus the author of thy stocke: 
But thou art Sprung from Scythian Caucasus,
And Tygers of Hircania gaue thee sucke: 
Ah foolish Dido to forbeare this long! 
Wast thou not wrackt vpon this Libian shoare,
And cam’st to Dido like a Fisherswaine? 
Repairde not I thy ships, made thee a King,
And all thy needie followers Noblemen? 
O Serpent that came creeping from the shoare,
And I for pitie harbord in my bosome,
Wilt thou now slay me with thy venomed sting,
And hisse at Dido for preseruing thee? 
Goe goe and spare not, seeke out Italy,
I hope that that which loue forbids me doe,
The Rockes and Sea-gulfes will performe at large,
And thou shalt perish in the billowes waies,
To whom poore Dido doth bequeath reuenge,
I traytor, and the waues shall cast thee vp,
Where thou and false Achates first set foote: 
Which if it chaunce, Ile giue ye buriall,
And weepe vpon your liueles carcases,
Though thou nor he will pitie me a whit. 
Why star’st thou in my face? if thou wilt stay,
Leape in mine armes, mine armes are open wide: 
If not, turne from me, and Ile turne from thee;
For though thou hast the heart to say farewell,
I haue not power to stay thee:  is he gone? 
I but heele come againe, he cannot goe,
He loues me to too well to serue me so: 
Yet he that in my sight would not relent,
Will, being absent, be abdurate still. 
By this is he got to the water side,
And, see the Sailers take him by the hand,
But he shrinkes backe, and now remembring me,
Returnes amaine:  welcome, welcome my loue: 
But wheres AEneas? ah hees gone hees gone!

Anna. What meanes my sister thus to raue and crye?

Dido. O Anna, my AEneas is abourd, And leauing me will saile to Italy.  Once didst thou goe, and he came backe againe, Now bring him backe, and thou shalt be a Queene, And I will liue a priuate life with him.