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:
Who if that any seeke to doe him hurt,
Will quickly flye to _Citheidas_ fist.
Now _Cupid_ turne thee to _Ascanius_ shape,
And goe to _Dido_ who in stead of him
Will set thee on her lap and play with thee:
Then touch her white breast with this arrow head,
That she may dote vpon _AEneas_ loue:
And by that meanes repaire his broken ships,
Victuall his Souldiers, giue him wealthie gifts,
And he at last depart to _Italy_,
Or els in _Carthage_ make his kingly throne.

_Cupid._ I will faire mother, and so play my part,
As euery touch shall wound Queene _Didos_ heart.

_Venus._ Sleepe my sweete nephew in these cooling shades,
Free from the murmure of these running streames,
The crye of beasts, the ratling of the windes,
Or whisking of these leaues, all shall be still,
And nothing interrupt thy quiet sleepe,
Till I returne and take thee hence againe. _Exi