Iar. Women may wrong by priuiledge of loue:
But should that man of men (Dido except)
Haue taunted me in these opprobrious termes,
I would haue either drunke his dying bloud,
Or els I would haue giuen my life in gage?
Dido. Huntsmen, why pitch you not your toyles apace, And rowse the light foote Deere from forth their laire.
Anna. Sister, see see Ascanius in his pompe, Bearing his huntspeare brauely in his hand.
Dido. Yea little sonne, are you so forward now?
Asca. I mother, I shall one day be a man,
And better able vnto other armes,
Meane time these wanton weapons serue my warre,
Which I will breake betwixt a Lyons iawes.
Dido. What, darest thou looke a Lyon in the face?
Asca. I, and outface him to, doe what he can.
Anna. How like his father speaketh he in all?
Æn. And mought I liue to see him sacke rich Thebes,
And loade his speare with Grecian Princes heads,
Then would I wish me with Anchises Tombe,
And dead to honour that hath brought me vp.
Iar. And might I liue to see thee shipt away,
And hoyst aloft on Neptunes hideous hilles,
Then would I wish me in faire Didos armes,
And dead to scorne that hath pursued me so.