at tempests can anoy me now.

_Dido._ Not all the world can take thee from mine armes,
_AEneas_ may commaund as many Moores,
As in the Sea are little water drops:
And now to make experience of my loue,
Faire sister _Anna_ leade my louer forth,
And seated on my Gennet, let him ride
As _Didos_ husband through the punicke streetes,
And will my guard with Mauritanian darts,
To waite vpon him as their soueraigne Lord.

_Anna._ What if the Citizens repine thereat?

_Dido._ Those that dislike what _Dido_ giues in charge,
Commaund my guard to slay for their offence:
Shall vulgar pesants storme at what I doe?
The ground is mine that giues them sustenance,
The ayre wherein they breathe, the water, fire,
All that they haue, their lands, their goods, their liues,
And I the Goddesse of all these, commaund
_AEneas_ ride as Carthaginian King.

_Acha._ _AEneas_ for his parentage deserues
As large a kingdome as is _Libia_.

_AEn._ I, and vnlesse the destinies be false,
I shall be planted in as rich a land.

_Dido._ Speake of no other land, this land is thine,
_Dido_ is thine, henceforth Ile call thee Lord:
Doe as I bid thee, sister leade the way,
And from a turret Ile behold my loue.

_AEn._ Then here in me shall flourish _Priams_ race,
And thou and I _Achates_, for reuenge,
For _Troy_, for _Priam_, for his fiftie sonnes,
Our kinsmens loues, and thousand guiltles soules,
Will leade an hoste against the hatefull Greekes,
And fire proude _Lacedemon_ ore their heads. _Exit._

_Dido._ Speakes not _AEneas_ like a Conqueror?
O blessed tempests that did driue him in,
O happie sand that made him runne aground:
Henceforth you shall be our Carthage Gods:
I, but it may be he will leaue my loue,
And seeke a forraine land calde _Italy_:
O that I had a charme to keepe the windes
Within the closure of a golden ball,
Or that the Tyrrhen sea were in mine armes,
That he might suffer shipwracke on my breast,
As oft as he attempts to hoyst vp saile:
I must preuent him, wishing will not serue:
Goe, bid my Nurse take yong _Ascanius_,
And beare him in the countrey to her house,
_AEneas_ will not goe without his sonne:
Yet left he should, for I am full of feare,
Bring me his oares, his tackling, and his sailes;
What if I sinke his ships? O heele frowne.
Better he frowne, then I should dye for griefe:
I cannot see him frowne, it may not be:
Armies of foes resolu'd to winne this towne,
Or impious traitors vowde to haue my life,
Affright