_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. _Exit._

Actus 3. Scena I.

_Enter Cupid solus._

_Cupid._ Now _Cupid_ cause the Carthaginian Queene, To be inamourd of thy brothers lookes, Conuey this golden arrowe in thy sleeue, Lest she imagine thou art _Venus_ sonne: And when she strokes thee softly on the head, Then shall I touch her breast and conquer her.

_Enter Iarbus, Anna, and Dido._

_Iar._ How long faire _Dido_ shall I pine for thee?

Tis not enough that thou doest graunt me loue, But that I may enioy what I desire: That loue is childish which consists in words.

_Dido._ _Iarbus_, know that thou of all my wooers (And yet haue I had many mightier Kings) Hast had the greatest fauours I could giue: I feare me _Dido_ hath been counted light, In being too familiar with _Iarbus_: Albeit the G.o.ds doe know no wanton thought Had euer residence in _Didos_ breast.

_Iar._ But _Dido_ is the fauour I request.

_Dido._ Feare not _Iarbus_, _Dido_ may be thine.

_Anna._ Looke sister how _aeneas_ little sonne Playes with your garments and imbraceth you.

_Cupid._ No _Dido_ will not take me in her armes, I shall not be her sonne, she loues me not.

_Dido._ Weepe not sweet boy, thou shalt be _Didos_ sonne, Sit in my lap and let me heare thee sing.

No more my child, now talke another while, And tell me where learnst thou this pretie song?

_Cupid._ My cosin _Helen_ taught it me in _Troy_.

_Dido._ How louely is _Ascanius_ when he smiles?

_Cupid._ Will _Dido_ let me hang about her necke?

_Dido._ I wagge, and giue thee leaue to kisse her to.

_Cupid._ What will you giue me? now Ile haue this Fanne.

_Dido._ Take it _Ascanius_, for thy fathers sake.

_Iar._ Come _Dido_, leaue _Ascanius_, let vs walke.

_Dido._ Goe thou away, _Ascanius_ shall stay.

_Iar._ Vngentle Queene, is this thy loue to me?

_Dido._ O stay _Iarbus_, and Ile goe with thee.

_Cupid._ And if my mother goe, Ile follow her.

_Dido._ Why staiest thou here? thou art no loue of mine?

_Iar._ _Iarbus_ dye, seeing she abandons thee.

_Dido._ No, liue _Iarbus_, what hast thou deseru'd, That I should say thou art no loue of mine?

Something thou hast deseru'd, away I say, Depart from _Carthage_, come not in my sight.

_Iar._ Am I not King of rich _Getulia_?

_Dido._ _Iarbus_ pardon me, and stay a while.

_Cupid._ Mother, looke here.

_Dido._ What telst thou me of rich _Getulia_?

Am not I Queene of _Libia_? then depart.

_Iar._ I goe to feed the humour of my Loue, Yet not from _Carthage_ for a thousand worlds.

_Dido._ _Iarbus_.

_Iar._ Doth _Dido_ call me backe?

_Dido._ No, but I charge thee neuer looke on me.

_Iar._ Then pull out both mine eyes, or let me dye. _Exit Iarb._

_Anna._ Wherefore doth _Dido_ bid _Iarbus_ goe?

_Dido._ Because his lothsome sight offends mine eye, And in my thoughts is shrin'd another loue: O _Anna_, didst thou know how sweet loue were, Full soone wouldst thou abiure this single life.

_Anna._ Poore soule I know too well the sower of loue, O that _Iarbus_ could but fancie me.

_Dido._ Is not _aeneas_ faire and beautifull?