Iup. Content thee Cytherea in thy care,
Since thy AEneas wandring fate is firme,
Whose wearie lims shall shortly make repose,
In those faire walles I promist him of yore: 
But first in bloud must his good fortune bud,
Before he be the Lord of Turnus towne,
Or force her smile that hetherto hath frownd: 
Three winters shall he with the Rutiles warre,
And in the end subdue them with his sword,
And full three Sommers likewise shall he waste,
In mannaging those fierce barbarian mindes: 
Which once performd, poore Troy so long supprest,
From forth her ashes shall aduance her head,
And flourish once againe that erst was dead: 
But bright Ascanius beauties better worke,
Who with the Sunne deuides one radiant shape,
Shall build his throne amidst those starrie towers,
That earth-borne Atlas groning vnderprops: 
No bounds but heauen shall bound his Emperie,
Whose azured gates enchased with his name,
Shall make the morning halt her gray vprise,
To feede her eyes with his engrauen fame. 
Thus in stoute Hectors race three hundred yeares,
The Romane Scepter royall shall remaine,
Till that a Princesse priest conceau’d by Mars,
Shall yeeld to dignitie a dubble birth,
Who will eternish Troy in their attempts.

Venus. How may I credite these thy flattering termes,
When yet both sea and sands beset their ships,
And Ph[oe]bus as in stygian pooles, refraines
To taint his tresses in the Tyrrhen maine?

Iup. I will take order for that presently:  Hermes awake, and haste to Neptunes realme, Whereas the Wind-god warring now with Fate, Besiege the ofspring of our kingly loynes, Charge him from me to turne his stormie powers, And fetter them in Vulcans sturdie brasse, That durst thus proudly wrong our kinsmans peace. Venus farewell, thy sonne shall be our care:  Come Ganimed, we must about this geare.

Exeunt Iupiter cum Ganimed.

Venus. Disquiet Seas lay downe your swelling lookes,
And court AEneas with your calmie cheere,
Whose beautious burden well might make you proude,
Had not the heauens conceau’d with hel-borne clowdes,
Vaild his resplendant glorie from your view,
For my sake pitie him Oceanus,
That erst-while issued from thy watrie loynes,
And had my being from thy bubling froth: 
Triton I know hath fild his trumpe with Troy,
And therefore will take pitie on his toyle,
And call both Thetis and Cimodoae,
To succour him in this extremitie.

Enter AEneas with Ascanius, with one or two more.

What? doe I see my sonne now come on shoare: 
Venus, how art thou compast with content,
The while thine eyes attract their sought for ioyes: 
Great Iupiter, still honourd maist thou be,
For this so friendly ayde in time of neede. 
Here in this bush disguised will I stand,
Whiles my AEneas spends himselfe in plaints,
And heauen and earth with his vnrest acquaints.