_Dido._ Thy fortune may be greater then thy birth,
Sit downe _Æneas_, sit in _Didos_ place,
And if this be thy sonne as I suppose,
Here let him sit, be merrie louely child.

_Æn._ This place beseemes me not, O pardon me.

_Dido._ Ile haue it so, _Æneas_ be content.

_Asca._ Madame, you shall be my mother.

_Dido._ And so I will sweete child: be merrie man,
Heres to thy better fortune and good starres.

_Æn._ In all humilitie I thanke your grace.

_Dido._ Remember who thou art, speake like thy selfe,
Humilitie belongs to common groomes.

_Æn._ And who so miserable as _Æneas_ is?

_Dido._ Lyes it in _Didos_ hands to make thee blest,
Then be assured thou art not miserable.

_Æn._ O _Priamus_, O _Troy_, oh _Hecuba_!

_Dido._ May I entreate thee to discourse at large,
And truely to how _Troy_ was ouercome:
For many tales goe of that Cities fall,