tick humours pleasde not me:
This was _Alcion_, a Musition,
But playd he nere so sweet, I let him goe:
This was the wealthie King of _Thessaly_,
But I had gold enough and cast him off:
This _Meleagers_ sonne, a warlike Prince,
But weapons gree not with my tender yeares:
The rest are such as all the world well knowes,
Yet how I sweare by heauen and him I loue,
I was as farre from loue, as they from hate.

_AEn._ O happie shall he be whom _Dido_ loues.

_Dido._ Then neuer say that thou art miserable,
Because it may be thou shalt be my loue:
Yet boast not of it, for I loue thee not,
And yet I hate thee not: O if I speake
I shall betray my selfe: _AEneas_ speake,
We two will goe a hunting in the woods,
But not so much for thee, thou art but one,
As for _Achates_, and his followers. _Exeunt._

_Enter Iuno to Ascanius asleepe._

_Iuno._ Here lyes my hate, _AEneas_ cursed brat,
The boy wherein false destinie delights,
The heire of furie, the fauorite of the face,
That vgly impe that shall outweare my wrath,
And wrong my deitie with high disgrace:
But I will take another order now,
And race th'eternall Register of time:
_Troy_ shall no more call him her second hope,
Nor _Venus_ triumph in his tender youth:
For here in spight of heauen Ile murder him,
And feede infection with his left out life:
Say _Paris_, now shall _Venus_ haue the ball?
Say vengeance, now shall her _Ascanius_ dye.
O no God wot, I cannot watch my time,
Nor quit good turnes with double fee downe told:
Tut, I am simple without made to hurt,
And haue no gall at all to grieue my foes:
But lustfull _Ioue_ and his adulterous child,
Shall finde it written on confusions front,
That onely _Iuno_ rules in _Rhamnuse_ towne.

_Enter Venus._

_Venus._ What should this meane? my Doues are back returnd,
Who warne me of such daunger prest at hand,
To harme my sweete _Ascanius_ louely life.
_Iuno_, my mortall foe, what make you here?
Auaunt old witch and trouble not my wits.

_Iuno._ Fie _Venus_, that such causeles words of wrath,
Should ere defile so faire a mouth as thine:
Are not we both sprong of celestiall rase,
And banquet as two Sisters with the Gods?
Why is it then displeasure should disioyne,
Whom kindred and acquaintance counites.

_Venus._ Out hatefull hag, thou wouldst haue slaine my sonne,
Had not my Doues discou'rd thy entent:
But I will teare thy eyes fro forth thy head,
And feast the birds with their bloud-shotten balles,
If thou bu