The Tragedy of Dido Queene of Carthage

by Christopher Marlowe

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?