Anna. What can my teares or cryes preuaile me now?
Dido is dead, Iarbus slaine, Iarbus my deare loue,
O sweet Iarbus, Annas sole delight,
What fatall destinie enuies me thus,
To see my sweet Iarbus slay himselfe? 
But Anna now shall honor thee in death,
And mixe her bloud with thine, this shall I doe,
That Gods and men may pitie this my death,
And rue our ends senceles of life or breath;
Now sweet Iarbus stay, I come to thee.

FINIS.