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Act Four, Scene 3

Enter Aeneas alone.

Carthage, my friendly host adue,
Since destinie doth call me from thy shoare:
Hermes this night descending in a dreame,
Hath summond me to fruitfull Italy:
Jove wils it so, my mother wils it so:
Let my Phenissa graunt, and then I goe:
Graunt she or no, Aeneas must away,
Whose golden fortunes clogd with courtly ease,
Cannot ascend to Fames immortall house,
Or banquet in bright honors burnisht hall,
Till he hath furrowed Neptunes glassie fieldes,
And cut passage through his toples hilles:
Achates come forth, Sergestus, Illioneus,
Cloanthus, haste away, Aeneas calles.
Enter Achates, Cloanthus, Sergestus, and Illioneus.

What willes our Lord, or wherefore did he call?

The dreames that did beset my bed
When sleepe but newly had imbrast the night
Commaunds me leave these unrenowmed reames,
Whereas Nobilitie abhors to stay,
And none but base Aeneas will abide:
Abourd, abourd, since Fates doe bid abourd,
And slice the Sea with sable coloured ships,
On whom the nimble windes may all day waight,
And follow them as footemen through the deepe:
Yet Dido casts her eyes like anchors out,
To stay my Fleete from loosing forth the Bay:
Come backe, come backe, I heare her crye a farre,
And let me linke thy bodie to my lips,
That tyed together by the striving tongues,
We may as one saile into Italy

Banish that ticing dame from forth your mouth,
And follow your foreseeing starres in all;
This is no life for men at armes to live,
Where daliance doth consume a Souldiers strength,
And wanton motions of alluring eyes,
Effeminate our mindes inur'd to warre.

Why, let us build a Citie of our owne,
And not stand lingering here for amorous lookes:
Will Dido raise old Priam forth his grave,
And build the towne againe the Greekes did burne?
No no, she cares not how we sinke or swimme,
So she may have Aeneas in her armes.

To Italy, sweete friends to Italy,
We will not stay a minute longer here.

Troians abourd, and I will follow you,
[Exeunt omnes, manet Aeneas.]
I fame would goe, yet beautie calles me backe:
To leave her so and not once say farewell,
Were to transgresse against all lawes of love:
But if I use such ceremonious thankes,
As parting friends accustome on the shoare,
Her silver armes will coll me round about,
And teares of pearle, crye stay, Aeneas, stay:
Each word she sayes will then containe a Crowne,
And every speech be ended with a kisse:
I may not dure this female drudgerie,
To sea Aeneas, finde out Italy.
Enter Dido and Anna [with traine].

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