DIDO
Ah! Belinda, I am prest
With torment not to be confest,
Peace and I are strangers grown.
I languish till my grief is known,
yet would not have it guess'd.

BELINDA
Grief increases by concealing

DIDO
Mine admits of no revealing.

BELINDA
Then let me speak; the Trojan guest
into your tender thoughts has pressed;
the greatest blessing Fate can give,
Our Carthage to secure and Troy revive.

 [bad word] 
When monarchs unite, how happy their state,
They triumph at once, o'er their foes and their fate.