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?

_Dido._ The thing that I will dye before I aske,
And yet desire t