Dido, reina de Cartago
Here the Curtaines draw, there is discovered Jupiter dandling Ganimed upon his knee, and Mercury lying asleepe
Come gentle Ganimed and play with me,
I love thee well, say Juno what she will.
I am much better for your worthles love,
That will not shield me from her shrewish blowes:
To day when as I fild into your cups,
And held the cloath of pleasance whiles you dranke,
She reacht me such a rap for that I spilde,
As made the bloud run downe about mine eares.
What? dares she strike the darling of my thoughts?
By Saturnes soule, and this earth threatning haire,
That shaken thrise, makes Natures buildings quake,
I vow, if she but once frowne on thee more,
To hang her meteor like twixt heaven and earth,
And bind her hand and foote with golden cordes,
As once I did for harming Hercules.
Might I but see that pretie sport a foote,
O how would I with Helens brother laugh,
And bring the Gods to wonder at the game:
Sweet Jupiter, if ere I pleasde thine eye,
Or seemed faire walde in with Egles wings,
Grace my immortall beautie with this boone,
And I will spend my time in thy bright armes.
What ist sweet wagge I should deny thy youth?
Whose face reflects such pleasure to mine eyes,
As I exhal'd with thy fire darting beames,
Have oft driven backe the horses of the night,
When as they would have hal'd thee from my sight:
Sit on my knee, and call for thy content,
Controule proud Fate, and cut the thred of time.
Why, are not all the Gods at thy commaund,
And heaven and earth the bounds of thy delight?
Vulan shall daunce to make thee laughing sport,
And my nine Daughters sing when thou art sad,
From Junos bird Ile pluck her spotted pride,
To make thee fannes wherewith to coole thy face,
And Venus Swannes shall shed their silver downe,
To sweeten out the slumbers of thy bed:
Hermes no more shall shew the world his wings,
If that thy fancie in his feathers dwell,
But as this one Ile teare them all from him,
[Plucks a feather from Mercuries wings.]
Doe thou but say their colour pleaseth me.
Hold here my little love: these linked gems.
My Juno ware upon her marriage day,
Put thou about thy necke my owne sweet heart,
And tricke thy armes and shoulders with my theft.
I would have a jewell for mine eare,
And a fine brouch to put in my hat,
And then Ile hugge with you an hundred times.
And shall have Ganimed, if thou wilt be my love.
I, this is it, you can sit toying there,
And playing with that female wanton boy,
Whiles my Aeneas wanders on the Seas,
And rests a pray to every billowes pride.
Juno, false Juno in her Chariots pompe,
Drawne through the heavens by Steedes of Boreas brood,
Made Hebe to direct her ayrie wheeles
Into the windie countrie of the clowdes,
Where finding Aeolus intrencht with stormes,
And guarded with a thousand grislie ghosts,
She humbly did beseech him for our bane,
And charg'd him drowne my sonne with all his traine.
Then gan the windes breake ope their brazen doores,
And all Aeolia to be up in armes:
Poore Troy must now be sackt upon the Sea,
And Neptunes waves be envious men of warre,
Epeus horse, to Aetnas hill transformd,
Prepared stands to wracke their woodden walles,
And Aeolus like Agamemnon sounds
The surges, his fierce souldiers, to the spoyle:
See how the night Ulysses-like comes forth,
And intercepts the day as Dolon erst:
Ay me! the Starres supprisde like Rhesus Steedes,
Are drawne by darknes forth Astraeus tents.
What shall I doe to save thee my sweet boy?
When as the waves doe threat our Chrystall world,
And Proteus raising hils of flouds on high,
Entends ere long to sport him in the skie.
False Jupiter, rewardst thou vertue so?
What? is not pietie exempt from woe?
Then dye Aeneas in thine innocence,
Since that religion hath no recompence.
Content thee Cytherea in thy care,
Since thy Aeneas wandring fate is firme,
Whose wearie lims shall shortly make repose,
In those faire walles I promist him of yore:
But first in bloud must his good fortune bud,
Before he be the Lord of Turnus towne,
Or force her smile that hetherto hath frownd:
Three winters shall he with the Rutiles warre,
And in the end subdue them with his sword,
And full three Sommers likewise shall he waste,
In mannaging those fierce barbarian mindes:
Which once performd, poore Troy so long supprest,
From forth her ashes shall advance her head,
And flourish once againe that erst was dead:
But bright Ascanius, beauties better worke
Who with the Sunne devides one radiant shape,
Shall build his throne amidst those starrie towers,
That earth-borne Atlas groning underprops:
No bounds but heaven shall bound his Emperie,
Whose azured gates enchased with his name,
Shall make the morning hast her gray uprise,
To feede her eyes with his engraven fame.
Thus in stoute Hectors race three hundred yeares,
The Romane Scepter royall shall remaine,
Till that a Princesse priest conceav'd by Mars,
Shall yeeld to dignitie a dubble birth,
Who will eternish Troy in their attempts.
How may I credite these thy flattering termes,
When yet both sea and sands beset their ships,
And Phoebus as in Stygian pooles, refraines
To taint his tresses in the Tyrrhen maine?
I will take order for that presently:
Hermes awake, and haste to Neptunes realme,
Whereas the Wind-god warring now with Fate,
Besiege the ofspring of Our kingly loynes,
Charge him from me to turne his stormie powers,
And fetter them in Vulcans sturdie brasse,
That durst thus proudly wrong our kinsmans peace.
Venus farewell, thy sonne shall be our care:
Come Ganimed, we must about this geare.
Exeunt Jupitercum Ganimed
Disquiet Seas lay downe your swelling lookes,
And court Aeneas with your calmie cheere,
Whose beautious burden well might make you proude,
Had not the heavens conceav'd with hel-borne clowdes,
Vaild his resplendant glorie from your view.
For my sake pitie him Oceanus,
That erst-while issued from thy watrie loynes,
And had my being from thy bubling froth:
Triton I know hath fild his trumpe with Troy,
And therefore will take pitie on his toyle,
And call both Thetis and Cimothoe,
To succour him in this extremitie.
Enter Aeneas with Ascanius [and Achates], with one or two more.
What? doe I see my sonne now come on shoare
Venus, how art thou compast with content,
The while thine eyes attract their sought for joyes:
Great Jupiter, still honourd maist thou be,
For this so friendly ayde in time of neede
Here in this bush disguised will I stand,
Whiles my Aeneas spends himselfe in plaints,
And heaven and earth with his unrest acquaints.
You sonnes of care, companions of my course,
Priams misfortune followes us by sea,
And Helens rape doth haunt ye at the heeles.
How many dangers have we over past?
Both barking Scilla, and the sounding Rocks,
The Cyclops shelves, and grim Ceranias seate
Have you oregone, and yet remaine alive?
Pluck up your hearts, since fate still rests our friend,
And chaunging heavens may those good daies returne,
Which Pergama did vaunt in all her pride.
Brave Prince of Troy, thou onely art our God,
That by thy vertues freest us from annoy,
And makes our hopes survive to coming joyes:
Doe thou but smile, and clowdie heaven will deare,
Whose night and day descendeth from thy browes:
Though we be now in extreame miserie,
And rest the map of weatherbeaten woe:
Yet shall the aged Sunne shed forth his haire,
To make us live unto our former heate,
And every beast the forrest doth send forth,
Bequeath her young ones to our scanted foode.
Father I faint, good father give me meate.
Alas sweet boy, thou must be still a while,
Till we have fire to dresse the meate we kild:
Gentle Achates, reach the Tinder boxe,
That we may make a fire to warme us with,
And rost our new found victuals on this shoare.
See what strange arts necessitie findes out,
How neere my sweet Aeneas art thou driven?
Hold, take this candle and goe light a fire,
You shall have leaves and windfall bowes enow
Neere to these woods, to rost your meate withall:
Ascanius, goe and drie thy drenched lims,
Whiles I with my Achates roave abroad,
To know what coast the winde hath driven us on,
Or whether men or beasts inhabite it.
Exit Ascanius with others
The ayre is pleasant, and the soyle most fit
For Cities, and societies supports:
Yet much I marvell that I cannot finde,
No steps of men imprinted in the earth.
Now is the time for me to play my part:
Hoe yong men, saw you as you came
Any of all my Sisters wandring here?
Having a quiver girded to her side,
And cloathed in a spotted Leopards skin.
I neither saw nor heard of any such:
But what may I faire Virgin call your name?
Whose lookes set forth no mortall forme to view,
Nor speech bewraies ought humaine in thy birth,
Thou art a Goddesse that delud'st our eyes,
And shrowdes thy beautie in this borrowd shape:
But whether thou the Sunnes bright Sister be,
Or one of chast Dianas fellow Nimphs,
Live happie in the height of all content,
And lighten our extreames with this one boone,
As to instruct us under what good heaven
We breathe as now, and what this world is calde,
On which by tempests furie we are cast.
Tell us, O tell us that are ignorant,
And this right hand shall make thy Altars crack
With mountaine heapes of milke white Sacrifize.
Such honour, stranger, doe I not affect:
It is the use for Tirien maides to weare
Their bowe and quiver in this modest sort,
And suite themselves in purple for the nonce,
That they may trip more lightly ore the lawndes,
And overtake the tusked Bore in chase.
But for the land whereof thou doest enquire,
It is the Punick kingdome rich and strong,
Adjoyning on Agenors stately towne,
The kingly seate of Southerne Libia,
Whereas Sidonian Dido rules as Queene.
But what are you that aske of me these things?
Whence may you come, or whither will you goe?
Of Troy am I, Aeneas is my name,
Who driven by warre from forth my native world,
Put sailes to sea to seeke out Italy,
And my divine descent from sceptred Jove:
With twise twelve Phrigian ships I plowed the deepe,
And made that way my mother Venus led:
But of them all scarce seven doe anchor safe,
And they so wrackt and weltred by the waves,
As every tide tilts twixt their oken sides:
And all of them unburdened of their loade,
Are ballassed with billowes watrie weight.
But haples I, God wot, poore and unknowne,
Doe trace these Libian deserts all despisde,
Exild forth Europe and wide Asia both,
And have not any coverture but heaven.
Fortune hath favord thee what ere thou be,
In sending thee unto this curteous Coast:
A Gods name on and hast thee to the Court,
Where Dido will receive ye with her smiles:
And for thy ships which thou supposest lost,
Not one of them hath perisht in the storme,
But are arived safe not farre from hence:
And so I leave thee to thy fortunes lot,
Wishing good lucke unto thy wandring steps.
Achates, tis my mother that is fled,
I know her by the movings of her feete:
Stay gentle Venus, flye not from thy sonne,
Too cruell, why wilt thou forsake me thus?
Or in these shades deceiv'st mine eye so oft?
Why talke we not together hand in hand?
And tell our griefes in more familiar termes:
But thou art gone and leav'st me here alone,
To dull the ayre with my discoursive moane.
Enter Iarbus, with Illioneus, and Cloanthus and Sergestus
Follow ye Troians, follow this brave Lord,
And plaine to him the summe of your distresse.
Why, what are you, or wherefore doe you sewe?
Wretches of Troy, envied of the windes,
That crave such favour at your honors feete,
As poore distressed miserie may pleade:
Save, save, O save our ships from cruell fire,
That doe complaine the wounds of thousand waves,
And spare our lives whom every spite pursues.
We come not we to wrong your Libian Gods,
Or steale your houshold lares from their shrines:
Our hands are not prepar'd to lawles spoyle,
Nor armed to offend in any kind:
Such force is farre from our unweaponed thoughts,
Whose fading weale of victorie forsooke,
Forbids all hope to harbour neere our hearts.
But tell me Troians, Troians if you be,
Unto what fruitfull quarters were ye bound,
Before that Boreas buckled with your sailes?
There is a place Hesperia term'd by us,
An ancient Empire, famoused for armes,
And fertile in faire Ceres furrowed wealth,
Which now we call Italia of his name,
That in such peace long time did rule the same:
Thither made we,
When suddenly gloomie Orion rose,
And led our ships into the shallow sands,
Whereas the Southerne winde with brackish breath,
Disperst them all amongst the wrackfull Rockes:
From thence a fewe of us escapt to land,
The rest we feare are foulded in the flouds.
Brave men at armes, abandon fruitles feares,
Since Carthage knowes to entertaine distresse.
I but the barbarous sort doe threat our ships,
And will not let us lodge upon the sands:
In multitudes they swarme unto the shoare,
And from the first earth interdict our feete.
My selfe will see they shall not trouble ye,
Your men and you shall banquet in our Court,
And every Troian be as welcome here,
As Jupiter to sillie Baucis house:
Come in with me, Ile bring you to my Queene,
Who shall confirme my words with further deedes.
Thankes gentle Lord for such unlookt for grace.
Might we but once more see Aeneas face,
Then would we hope to quite such friendly turnes,
As shall surpasse the wonder of our speech.
Act Two, Scene One
Enter Aeneas, Achates, and Ascanius [attended].
Where am I now? these should be Carthage walles.
Why stands my sweete Aeneas thus amazde?
O my Achates, Theban Niobe,
Who for her sonnes death wept out life and breath,
And drie with griefe was turnd into a stone,
Had not such passions in her head as I. [Sees Priams statue.]
Me thinkes that towne
there should be Troy, yon Idas hill,
There Zanthus streame, because here's Priamus,
And when I know it is not, then I dye.
And in this humor is Achates to,
I cannot choose but fall upon my knees,
And kisse his hand: O where is Hecuba?
Here she was wont to sit, but saving ayre
Is nothing here, and what is this but stone?
O yet this stone doth make Aeneas weepe,
And would my prayers (as Pigmalions did)
Could give it life, that under his conduct
We might saile backe to Troy, and be revengde
On these hard harted Grecians, which rejoyce
That nothing now is left of Priamus:
O Priamus is left and this is he,
Come, come abourd, pursue the hatefull Greekes.
What meanes Aeneas?
Achates though mine eyes say this is stone,
Yet thinkes my minde that this is Priamus:
And when my grieved heart sighes and sayes no,
Then would it leape out to give Priam life:
O were I not at all so thou mightst be.
Achates, see King Priam wags his hand,
He is alive, Troy is not overcome.
Thy mind Aeneas that would have it so
Deludes thy eye sight, Priamus is dead.
Ah Troy is sackt, and Priamus is dead,
And why should poore Aeneas be alive?
Sweete father leave to weepe, this is not he:
For were it Priam he would smile on me.
Aeneas see, here come the Citizens,
Leave to lament lest they laugh at our feares.
Enter Cloanthus, Sergestus, Illioneus [and others].
Lords of this towne, or whatsoever stile
Belongs unto your name, vouchsafe of ruth
To tell us who inhabits this faire towne,
What kind of people, and who governes them:
For we are strangers driven on this shore,
And scarcely know within what Clime we are.
I heare Aeneas voyce, but see him not,
For none of these can be our Generall.
Like Illioneus speakes this Noble man,
But Illioneus goes not in such robes.
You are Achates, or I am deciv'd.
Aeneas see, Sergestus or his ghost.
He names Aeneas, let us kisse his feete.
It is our Captaine, see Ascanius.
Live long Aeneas and Ascanius.
Achates, speake, for I am overjoyed.
O Illioneus, art thou yet alive?
Blest be the time I see Achates face.
Why turnes Aeneas from his trustie friends?
Sergestus, Illioneus and the rest,
Your sight amazde me, O what destinies
Have brought my sweete companions in such plight?
O tell me, for I long to be resolv'd.
Lovely Aeneas, these are Carthage walles,
And here Queene Dido weares th'imperiall Crowne,
Who for Troyes sake hath entertaind us all,
And clad us in these wealthie robes we weare.
Oft hath she askt us under whom we serv'd,
And when we told her she would weepe for griefe,
Thinking the sea had swallowed up thy ships,
And now she sees thee how will she rejoyce?
See where her servitors passe through the hall
Bearing a banket, Dido is not farre.
Looke where she comes: Aeneas view her well.
Well may I view her, but she sees not me.
Enter Dido [with Anna and Iarbus] and her traine.
What stranger art thou that doest eye me thus?
Sometime I was a Troian, mightie Queene:
But Troy is not, what shall I say I am?
Renowmed Dido, tis our Generall:
Warlike Aeneas, and in these base robes?
Goe fetch the garment which Sicheus ware:
Brave Prince, welcome to Carthage and to me,
Both happie that Aeneas is our guest:
Sit in this chaire and banquet with a Queene,
Aeneas is Aeneas, were he clad
In weedes as bad as ever Irus ware.
This is no seate for one thats comfortles,
May it please your grace to let Aeneas waite:
For though my birth be great, my fortunes meane,
Too meane to be companion to a Queene.
Thy fortune may be greater then thy birth,
Sit downe Aeneas, sit in Didos place,
And if this be thy sonne as I suppose,
Here let him sit, be merrie lovely child.
This place beseemes me not, O pardon me.
Ile have it so, Aeneas be content.
[Enter servant with robe and Aeneas puts it on.]
Madame, you shall be my mother.
And so I will sweete child: be merrie man,
Heres to thy better fortune and good starres.
In all humilitie I thanke your grace.
Remember who thou art, speake like thy selfe,
Humilitie belongs to common groomes.
And who so miserable as Aeneas is?
Lyes it in Didos hands to make thee blest,
Then be assured thou art not miserable.
O Priamus, O Troy, oh Hecuba!
May I entreate thee to discourse at large,
And truely to, how Troy was overcome:
For many tales goe of that Cities fall,
And scarcely doe agree upon one poynt:
Some say Antenor did betray the towne,
Others report twas Sinons perjurie:
But all in this that Troy is overcome,
And Priam dead, yet how we heare no newes.
A wofull tale bids Dido to unfould,
Whose memorie like pale deaths stony mace,
Beates forth my senses from this troubled soule,
And makes Aeneas sinke at Didos feete.
What, faints Aeneas to remember Troy?
In whose defence he fought so valiantly:
Looke up and speake.
Then speake Aeneas with Achilles tongue,
And Dido and you Carthaginian Peeres
Heare me, but yet with Mirmidons harsh eares,
Daily inur'd to broyles and Massacres,
Lest you be mov'd too much with my sad tale.
The Grecian souldiers tired with ten yeares warre,
Began to crye, let us unto our ships,
Troy is invincible, why stay we here?
With whose outcryes Atrides being apal'd,
Summoned the Captaines to his princely tent,
Who looking on the scarres we Troians gave,
Seeing the number of their men decreast,
And the remainder weake and out of heart,
Gave up their voyces to dislodge the Campe,
And so in troopes all marcht to Tenedos:
Where when they came, Ulysses on the sand
Assayd with honey words to turne them backe:
And as he spoke, to further his entent
The windes did drive huge billowes to the shoare,
And heaven was darkned with tempestuous clowdes:
Then he alleag'd the Gods would have them stay,
And prophecied Troy should be overcome:
And therewithall he calde false Sinon forth,
A man compact of craft and perjurie,
Whose ticing tongue was made of Hermes pipe,
To force an hundred watchfull eyes to sleepe:
And him, Epeus having made the horse,
With sacrificing wreathes upon his head,
Ulysses sent to our unhappie towne:
Who groveling in the mire of Zanthus bankes ,
His hands bound at his backe, and both his eyes
Turnd up to heaven as one resolv'd to dye,
Our Phrigian shepherds haled within the gates,
And brought unto the Court of Priamus:
To whom he used action so pitifull,
Lookes so remorcefull, vowes so forcible,
As therewithall the old man overcome,
Kist him, imbrast him, and unloosde his bands,
And then—O Dido, pardon me.
Nay leave not here, resolve me of the rest.
O th'inchaunting words of that base slave,
Made him to thinke Epeus pine-tree Horse
A sacrifize t'appease Minervas wrath:
The rather for that one Laocoon
Breaking a speare upon his hollow breast,
Was with two winged Serpents stung to death.
Whereat agast, we were commanded straight
With reverence to draw it into Troy.
In which unhappie worke was I employd,
These hands did helpe to hale it to the gates,
Through which it could not enter twas so huge.
O had it never entred, Troy had stood.
But Priamus impatient of delay,
Inforst a wide breach in that rampierd wall,
Which thousand battering Rams could never pierce,
And so came in this fatall instrument:
At whose accursed feete as overjoyed,
We banquetted till overcome with wine,
Some surfetted, and others soundly slept.
Which Sinon viewing, causde the Greekish spyes
To hast to Tenedos and tell the Campe:
Then he unlockt the Horse, and suddenly
From out his entrailes, Neoptolemus
Setting his speare upon the ground, leapt forth,
And after him a thousand Grecians more,
In whose sterne faces shin'd the quenchles fire,
That after burnt the pride of Asia.
By this the Campe was come unto the walles,
And through the breach did march into the streetes,
Where meeting with the rest, kill kill they cryed.
Frighted with this confused noyse, I rose,
And looking from a turret, might behold
Yong infants swimming in their parents bloud,
Headles carkasses piled up in heapes,
Virgins halfe dead dragged by their golden haire,
And with maine force flung on a ring of pikes,
Old men with swords thrust through their aged sides,
Kneeling for mercie to a Greekish lad,
Who with steele Pol-axes dasht out their braines.
Then buckled I mine armour, drew my sword,
And thinking to goe downe, came Hectors ghost
With ashie visage, blewish sulphure eyes,
His armes torne from his shoulders, and his breast
Furrowd with wounds, and that which made me weepe,
Thongs at his heeles, by which Achilles horse
Drew him in triumph through the Greekish Campe,
Burst from the earth, crying, Aeneas fiye,
Troy is a fire, the Grecians have the towne.
O Hector who weepes not to heare thy name?
Yet flung I forth, and desperate of my life,
Ran in the thickest throngs, and with this sword
Sent many of their savadge ghosts to hell.
At last came Pirrhus fell and full of ire,
His harnesse dropping bloud, and on his speare
The mangled head of Priams yongest sonne,
And after him his band of Mirmidons,
With balles of wilde fire in their murdering pawes,
Which made the funerall flame that burnt faire Troy:
All which hemd me about, crying, this is he.
Ah, how could poore Aeneas scape their hands?
My mother Venus jealous of my health,
Convaid me from their crooked nets and bands:
So I escapt the furious Pirrhus wrath:
Who then ran to the pallace of the King,
And at Joves Altar finding Priamus,
About whose withered necke hung Hecuba,
Foulding his hand in hers, and joyntly both
Beating their breasts and falling on the ground,
He with his faulchions poynt raisde up at once,
And with Megeras eyes stared in their face,
Threatning a thousand deaths at every glaunce.
To whom the aged King thus trembling spoke:
Achilles sonne, remember what I was,
Father of fiftie sonnes, but they are slaine,
Lord of my fortune, but my fortunes turnd,
King of this Citie, but my Troy is fired,
And now am neither father, Lord, nor King:
Yet who so wretched but desires to live?
O let me live, great Neoptolemus.
Not mov'd at all, but smiling at his teares,
This butcher whil'st his hands were yet held up,
Treading upon his breast, strooke off his hands.
O end Aeneas, I can heare no more.
At which the franticke Queene leapt on his face,
And in his eyelids hanging by the nayles,
A little while prolong'd her husbands life:
At last the souldiers puld her by the heeles,
And swong her howling in the emptie ayre,
Which sent an eccho to the wounded King:
Whereat he lifted up his bedred lims,
And would have grappeld with Achilles sonne,
Forgetting both his want of strength and hands,
Which he disdaining whiskt his sword about,
And with the wind thereof the King fell downe:
Then from the navell to the throat at once,
He ript old Priam: at whose latter gaspe
Joves marble statue gan to bend the brow,
As lothing Pirrhus for this wicked act:
Yet he undaunted tooke his fathers flagge,
And dipt it in the old Kings chill cold bloud,
And then in triumph ran into the streetes,
Through which he could not passe for slaughtred men:
So leaning on his sword he stood stone still,
Viewing the fire wherewith rich Ilion burnt.
By this I got my father on my backe,
This young boy in mine armes, and by the hand
Led faire Creusa my beloved wife,
When thou Achates with thy sword mad'st way,
And we were round inviron'd with the Greekes:
O there I lost my wife: and had not we
Fought manfully, I had not told this tale:
Yet manhood would not serve, of force we fled,
And as we went unto our ships, thou knowest
We sawe Cassandra sprauling in the streetes,
Whom Ajax ravisht in Dianas Fane,
Her cheekes swolne with sighes, her haire all rent,
Whom I tooke up to beare unto our ships:
But suddenly the Grecians followed us,
And I alas, was forst to let her lye.
Then got we to our ships, and being abourd,
Polixena cryed out, Aeneas stay,
The Greekes pursue me, stay and take me in.
Moved with her voyce, I lept into the sea,
Thinking to beare her on my backe abourd,
For all our ships were launcht into the deepe:
And as I swomme, she standing on the shoare,
Was by the cruell Mirmidons surprizd,
And after by that Pirrhus sacrifizde.
I dye with melting ruth, Aeneas leave.
O what became of aged Hecuba?
How got Aeneas to the fleete againe?
But how scapt Helen, she that causde this warre?
Achates speake, sorrow hath tired me quite.
What happened to the Queene we cannot shewe,
We heare they led her captive into Greece.
As for Aeneas he swomme quickly backe,
And Helena betraied Deiphobus,
Her Lover after Alexander dyed,
And so was reconcil'd to Menelaus.
O had that ticing strumpet nere been borne:
Troian, thy ruthfull tale hath made me sad:
Come let us thinke upon some pleasing sport,
To rid me from these melancholly thoughts.
Enter Venus [with Cupid] at another doore, and takes Ascanius by the sleeve [as he is going off].
Faire child stay thou with Didos waiting maide,
Ile give thee Sugar-almonds, sweete Conserves,
A silver girdle, and a golden purse,
And this yong Prince shall be thy playfellow.
Are you Queene Didos sonne?
I, and my mother gave me this fine bow.
Shall I have such a quiver and a bow?
Such bow, such quiver, and such golden shafts,
Will Dido give to sweete Ascanius:
For Didos sake I take thee in my armes,
And sticke these spangled feathers in thy hat,
Eate Comfites in mine armes, and I will sing. [Song.]
Now is he fast asleepe,
and in this grove
Amongst greene brakes Ile lay Ascanius,
And strewe him with sweete smelling Violets,
Blushing Roses, purple Hyacinthe:
These milke white Doves shall be his Centronels:
Who if that any seeke to doe him hurt,
Will quickly fiye to Cithereas fist.
Now Cupid turne thee to Ascanius shape,
And goe to Dido, who in stead of him
Will set thee on her lap and play with thee:
Then touch her white breast with this arrow head,
That she may dote upon Aeneas love:
And by that meanes repaire his broken ships,
Victuall his Souldiers, give him wealthie gifts,
And he at last depart to Italy,
Or els in Carthage make his kingly throne.
I will faire mother, and so play my part,
As every touch shall wound Queene Didos heart.
Sleepe my sweete nephew in these cooling shades,
Free from the murmure of these running streames,
The crye of beasts, the ratling of the windes,
Or whisking of these leaves, all shall be still,
And nothing interrupt thy quiet sleepe,
Till I returne and take thee hence againe.
Act Three, Scene One
Enter Cupid solus [for Ascanius].
Now Cupid cause the Carthaginian Queene,
To be inamourd of thy brothers lookes,
Convey this golden arrowe in thy sleeve,
Lest she imagine thou art Venus sonne:
And when she strokes thee softly on the head,
Then shall I touch her breast and conquer her.
Enter Iarbus, Anna, and Dido.
How long faire Dido shall I pine for thee?
Tis not enough that thou doest graunt me love,
But that I may enjoy what I desire:
That love is childish which consists in words.
Iarbus, know that thou of all my wooers
(And yet have I had many mightier Kings)
Hast had the greatest favours I could give:
I feare me Dido hath been counted light,
In being too familiar with Iarbus:
Albeit the Gods doe know no wanton thought
Had ever residence in Didos breast.
But Dido is the favour I request.
Feare not Iarbus, Dido may be thine.
Looke sister how Aeneas little sonne
Playes with your garments and imbraceth you.
No Dido will not take me in her armes,
I shall not be her sonne, she loves me not.
Weepe not sweet boy, thou shalt be Didos sonne,
Sit in my lap and let me heare thee sing.
No more my child, now talke another while,
And tell me where learndst thou this pretie song?
My cosin Helen taught it me in Troy.
How lovely is Ascanius when he smiles?
Will Dido let me hang about her necke?
I wagge, and give thee leave to kisse her to.
What will you give me now? Ile have this Fanne.
Take it Ascanius, for thy fathers sake.
Come Dido, leave Ascanius, let us walke.
Goe thou away, Ascanius shall stay.
Ungentle Queene, is this thy love to me?
O stay Iarbus, and Ile goe with thee.
And if my mother goe, Ile follow her.
Why staiest thou here? thou art no love of mine.
Iarbus dye, seeing she abandons thee.
No, live Iarbus, what hast thou deserv'd,
That I should say thou art no love of mine?
Something thou hast deserv'd.—Away I say,
Depart from Carthage, come not in my sight.
Am I not King of rich Getulia?
Iarbus pardon me, and stay a while.
Mother, looke here.
What telst thou me of rich Getulia?
Am not I Queen of Libia? then depart.
I goe to feed the humour of my Love,
Yet not from Carthage for a thousand worlds.
Doth Dido call me backe?
No, but I charge thee never looke on me.
Then pull out both mine eyes, or let me dye.
Wherefore doth Dido bid Iarbus goe?
Because his lothsome sight offends mine eye,
And in my thoughts is shrin'd another love:
O Anna, didst thou know how sweet love were,
Full soone wouldst thou abjure this single life.
Poore soule I know too well the sower of love, [Aside.]
O that Iarbus could but
Is not Aeneas faire and beautifull?
Yes, and Iarbus foule and favourles.
Is he not eloquent in all his speech?
Yes, and Iarbus rude and rusticall.
Name not Iarbus, but sweete Anna say,
Is not Aeneas worthie Didos love?
O sister, were you Empresse of the world,
Aeneas well deserves to be your love,
So lovely is he that where ere he goes,
The people swarme to gaze him in the face.
But tell them none shall gaze on him but I,
Lest their grosse eye-beames taint my lovers cheekes:
Anna, good sister Anna goe for him,
Lest with these sweete thoughts I melt cleane away.
Then sister youle abjure Iarbus love?
Yet must I heare that lothsome name againe?
Runne for Aeneas, or Ile flye to him.
You shall not hurt my father when he comes.
No, for thy sake Ile love thy father well.
O dull conceipted Dido, that till now
Didst never thinke Aeneas beautifull:
But now for quittance of this oversight,
Ile make me bracelets of his golden haire,
His glistering eyes shall be my looking glasse,
His lips an altar, where Ile offer up
As many kisses as te Sea hath sands,
In stead of musicke I will heare him speake,
His lookes shall be my only Librarie,
And thou Aeneas, Didos treasurie,
In whose faire bosome I will locke more wealth,
Then twentie thousand Indiaes can affoord:
O here he comes, love, love, give Dido leave
To be more modest then her thoughts admit,
Lest I be made a wonder to the world.
[Enter Aeneas, Achates, Sergestus, Illioneus, and Cloanthus.]
Achates, how doth Carthage please your Lord?
That will Aeneas shewe your majestie.
Aeneas, art thou there?
I understand your highnesse sent for me.
No, but now thou art here, tell me in sooth
In what might Dido highly pleasure thee.
So much have I receiv'd at Didos hands,
As without blushing I can aske no more:
Yet Queene of Affricke, are my ships unrigd,
My Sailes all rent in sunder with the winde,
My Oares broken, and my Tackling lost,
Yea all my Navie split with Rockes and Shelfes:
Nor Sterne nor Anchor have our maimed Fleete,
Our Masts the furious windes strooke over bourd:
Which piteous wants if Dido will supplie,
We will account her author of our lives.
Aeneas, Ile repaire thy Trojan ships,
Conditionally that thou wilt stay with me,
And let Achates saile to Italy:
Ile give thee tackling made of riveld gold,
Wound on the barkes of odoriferous trees,
Oares of massie Ivorie full of holes,
Through which the water shall delight to play:
Thy Anchors shall be hewed from Christall Rockes,
Which if thou lose shall shine above the waves:
The Masts whereon thy swelling sailes shall hang,
Hollow Pyramides of silver plate:
The sailes of foulded Lawne, where shall be wrought
The warres of Troy, but not Troyes overthrow:
For ballace, emptie Didos treasurie,
Take what ye will, but leave Aeneas here.
Achates, thou shalt be so meanly clad,
As Seaborne Nymphes shall swarme about thy ships,
And wanton Mermaides court thee with sweete songs,
Flinging in favours of more soveraigne worth,
Then Thetis hangs about Apolloes necke,
So that Aeneas may but stay with me.
Wherefore would Dido have Aeneas stay?
To warre against my bordering enemies:
Aeneas, thinke not Dido is in love:
For if that any man could conquer me,
I had been wedded ere Aeneas came:
See where the pictures of my suiters hang,
And are not these as faire as faire may be?
I saw this man at Troy ere Troy was sackt.
I this in Greece when Paris stole fair Helen.
This man and I were at Olympus games.
I know this face, he is a Persian borne,
I traveld with him to Aetolia.
And I in Athens with this gentleman,
Unlesse I be deceiv'd disputed once.
But speake Aeneas, know you none of these?
No Madame, but it seemes that these are Kings.
All these and others which I never sawe,
Have been most urgent suiters for my love,
Some came in person, others sent their Legats:
Yet none obtaind me, I am free from all.—
And yet God knowes intangled unto one.—[Aside.]
This was an Orator, and
thought by words
To compasse me, but yet he was deceiv'd:
And this a Spartan Courtier vaine and wilde,
But his fantastick humours pleasde not me:
This was Alcion, a Musition,
But playd he nere so sweet, I let him goe:
This was the wealthie King of Thessaly,
But I had gold enough and cast him off:
This Meleagers sonne, a warlike Prince,
But weapons gree not with my tender yeares:
The rest are such as all the world well knowes,
Yet how I sweare by heaven and him I love,
I was as farre from love, as they from hate.
O happie shall he be whom Dido loves.
Then never say that thou art miserable,
Because it may be thou shalt be my love:
Yet boast not of it, for I love thee not,
And yet I hate thee not:— O if I speake
I shall betray my selfe:— Aeneas speake,
We two will goe a hunting in the woods,
But not so much for thee, thou art but one,
As for Achates, and his followers.
Act Three, Scene Two
Enter Juno to Ascanius asleepe.
Here lyes my hate, Aeneas cursed brat,
The boy wherein false destinie delights,
The heire of fame, the favorite of the fates,
That ugly impe that shall outweare my wrath,
And wrong my deitie with high disgrace:
But I will take another order now,
And race th'eternall Register of time:
Troy shall no more call him her second hope,
Nor Venus triumph in his tender youth:
For here in spight of heaven Ile murder him,
And feede infection with his let out life:
Say Paris, now shall Venus have the ball?
Say vengeance, now shall her Ascanius dye?
O no God wot, I cannot watch my time,
Nor quit good turnes with double fee downe told:
Tut, I am simple, without minde to hurt,
And have no gall at all to grieve my foes:
But lustfull Jove and his adulterous child,
Shall finde it written on confusions front,
That onely Juno rules in Rhamnuse towne.
What should this meane? my Doves are back returnd,
Who warne me of such daunger prest at hand,
To harme my sweete Ascanius lovely life.
Juno, my mortall foe, what make you here?
Avaunt old witch and trouble not my wits.
Fie Venus, that such causeles words of wrath,
Should ere defile so faire a mouth as thine:
Are not we both sprong of celestiall rase,
And banquet as two Sisters with the Gods?
Why is it then displeasure should disjoyne,
Whom kindred and acquaintance counites?
Out hatefull hag, thou wouldst have slaine my sonne,
Had not my Doves discov'rd thy entent:
But I will teare thy eyes fro forth thy head,
And feast the birds with their bloud-shotten balles,
If thou but lay thy fingers on my boy.
Is this then all the thankes that I shall have,
For saving him from Snakes and Serpents stings,
That would have kild him sleeping as he lay?
What though I was offended with thy sonne,
And wrought him mickle woe on sea and land,
When for the hate of Troian Ganimed,
That was advanced by my Hebes shame,
And Paris judgement of the heavenly ball,
I mustred all the windes unto his wracke,
And urg'd each Element to his annoy:
Yet now I doe repent me of his ruth,
And wish that I had never wrongd him so:
Bootles I sawe it was to warre with fate,
That hath so many unresisted friends:
Wherefore I chaungd my counsell with the time,
And planted love where envie erst had sprong.
Sister of Jove, if that thy love be such,
As these thy protestations doe paint forth,
We two as friends one fortune will devide:
Cupid shall lay his arrowes in thy lap,
And to a Scepter chaunge his golden shafts,
Fancie and modestie shall live as mates,
And thy faire peacockes by my pigeons pearch:
Love my Aeneas, and desire is thine,
The day, the night, my Swannes, my sweetes are thine.
More then melodious are these words to me,
That ovecloy my soule with their content:
Venus, sweete Venus, how may I deserve
Such amourous favours at thy beautious hand?
But that thou maist more easilie perceive,
How highly I doe prize this amitie,
Harke to a motion of eternall league,
Which I will make in quittance of thy love:
Thy sonne thou knowest with Dido now remaines,
And feedes his eyes with favours of her Court,
She likewise in admyring spends her time,
And cannot talke nor thinke of ought but him:
Why should not they then joyne in marriage,
And bring forth mightie Kings to Carthage towne,
Whom casualtie of sea hath made such friends?
And Venus, let there be a match confirmd
Betwixt these two, whose loves are so alike,
And both our Deities conjoynd in one,
Shall chaine felicitie unto their throne.
Well could I like this reconcilements meanes,
But much I feare my sonne will nere consent,
Whose armed soule alreadie on the sea,
Darts forth her light to Lavinias shoare.
Faire Queene of love, I will devorce these doubts,
And finde the way to wearie such fond thoughts:
This day they both a hunting forth will ride
Into these woods, adjoyning to these walles,
When in the midst of all their gamesome sports,
Ile make the Clowdes dissolve their watrie workes,
And drench Silvanus dwellings with their shewers,
Then in one Cave the Queene and he shall meete,
And interchangeably discourse their thoughts,
Whose short conclusion will seale up their hearts,
Unto the purpose which we now propound.
Sister, I see you savour of my wiles,
Be it as you will have it for this once,
Meane time, Ascanius shall be my charge,
Whom I will beare to Ida in mine armes,
And couch him in Adonis purple downe.
Act Three, Scene Three
Enter Dido, Aeneas, Anna, Iarbus, Achates, [Cupid for Ascanius,] and followers.
Aeneas, thinke not but I honor thee,
That thus in person goe with thee to hunt:
My princely robes thou seest are layd aside,
Whose glittering pompe Dianas shrowdes supplies,
All fellowes now, disposde alike to sporte,
The woods are wide, and we have store of game:
Faire Troian, hold my golden bowe awhile,
Untill I gird my quiver to my side:
Lords goe before, we two must talke alone.
Ungentle, can she wrong Iarbus so?
Ile dye before a stranger have that grace:
We two will talke alone, what words be these?
What makes Iarbus here of all the rest?
We could have gone without your companie.
But love and duetie led him on perhaps,
To presse beyond acceptance to your sight.
Why, man of Troy, doe I offend thine eyes?
Or art thou grievde thy betters presse so nye?
How now Getulian, are ye growne so brave,
To challenge us with your comparisons?
Pesant, goe seeke companions like thy selfe,
And meddle not with any that I love:
Aeneas, be not movde at what he sayes,
For otherwhile he will be out of joynt.
Women may wrong by priviledge of love:
But should that man of men (Dido except)
Have taunted me in these opprobrious termes,
I would have either drunke his dying bloud,
Or els I would have given my life in gage.
Huntsmen, why pitch you not your toyles apace,
And rowse the light foote Deere from forth their laire?
Sister, see see Ascanius in his pompe,
Bearing his huntspeare bravely in his hand.
Yea little sonne, are you so forward now?
I mother, I shall one day be a man,
And better able unto other armes.
Meane time these wanton weapons serve my warre,
Which I will breake betwixt a Lyons jawes.
What, darest thou looke a Lyon in the face?
I, and outface him to, doe what he can.
How like his father speaketh he in all?
And mought I live to see him sacke rich Thebes,
And bade his speare with Grecian Princes heads,
Then would I wish me with Anchises Tombe,
And dead to honour that hath brought me up.
And might I live 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.
Stoute friend Achates, doest thou know this wood?
As I remember, here you shot the Deere,
That sav'd your famisht souldiers lives from death,
When first you set your foote upon the shoare,
And here we met faire Venus Virgine like,
Bearing her bowe and quiver at her backe.
O how these irksome labours now delight,
And overjoy my thoughts with their escape:
Who would not undergoe all kind of toyle,
To be well stor'd with such a winters tale?
Aeneas, leave these dumpes and lets away,
Some to the mountaines, some unto the soyle,
You to the vallies, thou unto the house.
Exeunt omnes: manet [Iarbus].
I, this it is which wounds me to the death,
To see a Phrigian far fet on the sea,
Preferd before a man of majestie:
O love, O hate, O cruell womens hearts,
That imitate the Moone in every chaunge,
And like the Planets ever love to raunge:
What shall I doe thus wronged with disdaine?
Revenge me on Aeneas, or on her:
On her? fond man, that were to warre gainst heaven,
And with one shaft provoke ten thousand darts:
This Troians end will be thy envies aime,
Whose bloud will reconcile thee to content,
And make love drunken with thy sweete desire:
But Dido that now holdeth him so deare,
Will dye with very tidings of his death:
But time will discontinue her content,
And mould her minde unto newe fancies shapes:
O God of heaven, turne the hand of fate
Unto that happie day of my delight,
And then, what then? Iarbus shall but love:
So doth he now, though not with equall game,
That resteth in the rivall of thy paine,
Who nere will cease to soare till he be slaine.
Act Three, Scene Four
The storme. Enter Aeneas and Dido in the Cave at severall times.
Tell me deare love, how found you out this Cave?
By chance sweete Queene, as Mars and Venus met.
Why, that was in a net, where we are loose,
And yet I am not free, oh would I were.
Why, what is it that Dido may desire
And not obtaine, be it in humaine power?
The thing that I will dye before I aske,
And yet desire to have before I dye. Aeneas.
It is not ought Aeneas may atchieve?
Aeneas no, although his eyes doe pearce.
What, hath Iarbus angred her in ought?
And will she be avenged on his life?
Not angred me, except in angring thee.
Who then of all so cruell may he be,
That should detaine thy eye in his defects?
The man that I doe eye where ere I am,
Whose amorous face like Pean sparkles fire,
When as he buts his beames on Floras bed,
Prometheus hath put on Cupids shape,
And I must perish in his burning armes.
Aeneas, O Aeneas, quench these flames.
What ailes my Queene, is she falne sicke of late?
Not sicke my love, but sicke:—I must conceale
The torment, that it bootes me not reveale,
And yet Ile speake, and yet Ile hold my peace,
Doe shame her worst, I will disclose my griefe:---
Aeneas, thou art he, what did I say?
Something it was that now I have forgot.
What meanes faire Dido by this doubtfull speech?
Nay, nothing, but Aeneas loves me not.
Aeneas thoughts dare not ascend so high
As Didos heart, which Monarkes might not scale.
It was because I sawe no King like thee,
Whose golden Crowne might ballance my content:
But now that I have found what to effect,
I followe one that loveth fame for me,
And rather had seeme faire to Sirens eyes,
Then to the Carthage Queene that dyes for him.
If that your majestie can looke so lowe,
As my despised worts, that shun all praise,
With this my hand I give to you my heart,
And vow by all the Gods of Hospitalitie,
By heaven and earth, and my faire others bowe,
By Paphos, Capys, and the purple Sea,
From whence my radiant mother did descend,
And by this Sword that saved me from the Greekes,
Never to leave these newe upreared walles,
Whiles Dido lives and rules in Junos towne,
Never to like or love any but her.
What more then Delian musicke doe I heare,
That calles my soule from forth his living seate,
To move unto the measures of delight:
Kind clowdes that sent forth such a curteous storme,
As made disdaine to flye to fancies lap:
Stoute love in mine armes make thy Italy,
Whose Crowne and kingdome rests at thy commande:
Sicheus, not Aeneas be thou calde:
The King of Carthage, not Anchises sonne:
Hold, take these Jewels at thy Lovers hand,
These golden bracelets, and this wedding ring,
Wherewith my husband woo'd me yet a maide,
And be thou king of Libia, by my guift.
Act Four, Scene One
Enter Achates, [Cupid for] Ascanius, Iarbus, and Anna.
Did ever men see such a sudden storme?
Or day so deere so suddenly Orecast?
I thinke some fell Inchantresse dwelleth here,
That can call them forth when as she please,
And dive into blacke tempests treasurie,
When as she meanes to maske the world with clowdes.
In all my life I never knew the like,
It haild, it snowde, it lightned all at once.
I thinke it was the divels revelling night,
There was such hurly burly in the heavens:
Doubtles Apollos Axeltree is crackt,
Or aged Atlas shoulder out of joynt,
The motion was so over violent.
In all this coyle, where have ye left the Queene?
Nay, where is my warlike father, can you tell?
Behold where both of them come forth the Cave.
Come forth the Cave: can heaven endure this sight?
Iarbus, curse that unrevenging Jove,
Whose flintie darts slept in Tipheus den,
Whiles these adulterors surfetted with sinne:
Nature , why mad'st me not some poysonous beast,
That with the sharpnes of my edged sting,
I might have stakte them both unto the earth,
Whil'st they were sporting in this darksome Cave?
[Enter Aeneas and Dido.]
The ayre is deere, and Southerne windes are whist,
Come Dido, let us hasten to the towne,
Since gloomie Aeolus doth cease to frowne.
Achates and Ascanius, well met.
Faire Anna, how escapt you from the shower?
As others did, by running to the wood.
But where were you Iarbus all this while?
Not with Aeneas in the ugly Cave.
I see Aeneas sticketh in your minde,
But I will soone put by that stumbling blocke,
And quell those hopes that thus employ your cares.
Act Four, Scene 2
Enters Iarbus to Sacrifize.
Come servants, come bring forth the Sacrifize,
That I may pacifie that gloomie Jove,
Whose emptie Altars have enlarg'd our illes.
Eternall Jove, great master of the Clowdes,
Father of gladnesse, and all frollicke thoughts,
That with thy gloomie hand corrects the heaven,
When ayrie creatures warre amongst themselves:
Heare, heare, O heare Iarbus plaining prayers,
Whose hideous ecchoes make the welkin howle,
And all the woods Eliza to resound:
The woman that thou wild us entertaine,
Where straying in our borders up and downe,
She crav'd a hide of ground to build a towne,
With whom we did devide both lawes and land,
And all the fruites that plentie els sends forth,
Scorning our loves and royall marriage rites,
Yeelds up her beautie to a strangers bed,
Who having wrought her shame, is straight way fled:
Now if thou beest a pitying God of power,
On whom ruth and compassion ever waites,
Redresse these wrongs, and warne him to his ships
That now afflicts me with his flattering eyes.
How now Iarbus, at your prayers so hard?
I Anna, is there ought you would with me?
Nay, no such waightie busines of import,
But may be slackt untill another time:
Yet if you would partake with me the cause
Of this devotion that detaineth you,
I would be thankfull for such curtesie.
Anna, against this Troian doe I pray,
Who seekes to rob me of thy Sisters love,
And dive into her heart by coloured lookes.
Alas poore King that labours so in vaine,
For her that so delighteth in thy paine:
Be rul'd by me, and seeke some other love,
Whose yeelding heart may yeeld thee more reliefe.
Mine eye is fixt where fancie cannot start,
O leave me, leave me to my silent thoughts,
That register the numbers of my ruth,
And I will either move the thoughtles flint,
Or drop out both mine eyes in drisling teares,
Before my sorrowes tide have any stint.
I will not leave Iarbus whom I love,
In this delight of dying pensivenes:
Away with Dido, Anna be thy song,
Anna that doth admire thee more then heaven.
I may nor will list to such loathsome chaunge,
That intercepts the course of my desire:
Servants, come fetch these emptie vessels here,
For I will flye from these alluring eyes,
That doe pursue my peace where ere it goes.
Iarbus stay, loving Iarbus stay,
For I have honey to present thee with:
Hard hearted, wilt not deigne to heare me speake?
Ile follow thee with outcryes nere the lesse,
And strewe thy walkes with my discheveld haire
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.
Act Four, Scene Four
O Anna, runne unto the water side,
They say Aeneas men are going abourd,
It may be he will steale away with them:
Stay not to answere me, runne Anna runne. [Exit Anna.]
O foolish Trojans that
would steale from hence,
And not let Dido understand their drift:
I would have given Achates store of gold,
And Illioneus gum and Libian spice,
The common souldiers rich imbrodered coates,
And silver whistles to controule the windes,
Which Circes sent Sicheus when he lived:
Unworthie are they of a Queenes reward:
See where they come, how might I doe to chide?
Enter Anna, with Aeneas, Achates, Illioneus, and Sergestus.
Twas time to runne, Aeneas had been gone,
The sailes were hoysing up, and he abourd.
Is this thy love to me?
O princely Dido, give me leave to speake,
I went to take my farewell of Achates.
How haps Achates bid me not farewell?
Because I feard your grace would keepe me here.
To rid thee of that doubt, abourd againe,
I charge thee put to sea and stay not here.
Then let Aeneas goe abourd with us.
Get you abourd, Aeneas meanes to stay.
The sea is rough, the windes blow to the shoare.
O false Aeneas, now the sea is rough,
But when you were abourd twas calme enough,
Thou and Achates ment to saile away.
Hath not the Carthage Queene mine onely sonne?
Thinkes Dido I will goe and leave him here?
Aeneas pardon me, for I forgot
That yong Ascanius lay with me this night:
Love made me jealous, but to make amends,
Weare the emperiall Crowne of Libia,
Sway thou the Punike Scepter in my steede,
And punish me Aeneas for this crime.
[Gives him crowne and scepter.]
This kisse shall be faire Didos punishment.
O how a Crowne becomes Aeneas head!
Stay here Aeneas, and commaund as King.
How vaine am I to weare this Diadem,
And beare this golden Scepter in my hand?
A Burgonet of steele, and not a Crowne,
A Sword, and not a Scepter fits Aeneas.
O keepe them still, and let me gaze my fill:
Now lookes Aeneas like immortall Jove,
O where is Ganimed to hold his cup,
And Mercury to flye for what he calles?
Ten thousand Cupids hover in the ayre,
And fanne it in Aeneas lovely face,
O that the Clowdes were here wherein thou fledst,
That thou and I unseene might sport our selves:
Heavens envious of our joyes is waxen pale,
And when we whisper, then the starres fall downe,
To be partakers of our honey talke.
O Dido, patronesse of all our lives,
When I leave thee, death be my punishment,
Swell raging seas, frowne wayward destinies ,
Blow windes, threaten ye Rockes and sandie shelfes,
This is the harbour that Aeneas seekes,
Lets see what tempests can anoy me now.
Not all the world can take thee from mine armes,
Aeneas may commaund as many Moores,
As in the Sea are little water drops:
And now to make experience of my love,
Faire sister Anna leade my lover forth,
And seated on my Gennet, let him ride
As Didos husband through the Punicke streetes,
And will my guard with Mauritanian darts,
To waite upon him as their soveraigne Lord.
What if the Citizens repine thereat?
Those that dislike what Dido gives in charge,
Commaund my guard to slay for their offence:
Shall vulgar pesants storme at what I doe?
The ground is mine that gives them sustenance,
The ayre wherein they breathe, the water, fire,
All that they have, their lands, their goods, their lives,
And I the Goddesse of all these, commaund
Aeneas ride as Carthaginian King.
Aeneas for his parentage deserves
As large a kingdome as is Libia.
I, and unlesse the destinies be false,
I shall be planted in as rich a land.
Speake of no other land, this land is thine,
Dido is thine, henceforth Ile call thee Lord:
Doe as I bid thee sister, leade the way,
And from a turret Ile behold my love.
Then here in me shall flourish Priams race,
And thou and I Achates, for revenge,
For Troy, for Priam, for his fiftie sonnes,
Our kinsmens lives, and thousand guiltles soules,
Will leade an hoste against the hatefull Greekes,
And fire proude Lacedemon ore their heads.
Exit [with Troians].
Speakes not Aeneas like a Conqueror?
O blessed tempests that did drive him in,
O happie sand that made him runne aground:
Henceforth you shall be our Carthage Gods:
I, but it may be he will leave my love,
And seeke a forraine land calde Italy:
O that I had a charme to keepe the windes
Within the closure of a golden ball,
Or that the Tyrrhen sea were in mine armes,
That he might suffer shipwracke on my breast,
As oft as he attempts to hoyst up saile:
I must prevent him, wishing will not serve:
Goe, bid my Nurse take yong Ascanius,
And beare him in the countrey to her house,
Aeneas will not goe without his sonne:
Yet lest he should, for I am full of feare,
Bring me his oares, his tackling, and his sailes: [Exit a Lord.]
What if I sinke his
ships? O heele frowne:
Better he frowne, then I should dye for griefe:
I cannot see him frowne, it may not be:
Armies of foes resolv'd to winne this towne,
Or impious traitors vowde to have my life,
Affright me not, onely Aeneas frowne
Is that which terrifies poore Didos heart:
Not bloudie speares appearing in the ayre,
Presage the downfall of my Emperie,
Nor blazing Commets threatens Didos death ,
It is Aeneas frowne that ends my daies:
If he forsake me not, I never dye,
For in his lookes I see eternitie,
And heele make me immortall with a kisse.
Enter a Lord.
Your Nurse is gone with yong Ascanius,
And heres Aeneas tackling, oares and sailes.
Are these the sailes that in despight of me,
Packt with the windes to beare Aeneas hence?
Ile hang ye in the chamber where I lye,
Drive if you can my house to Italy:
Ile set the casement open that the windes
May enter in, and once againe conspire
Against the life of me poore Carthage Queene:
But though he goe, he stayes in Carthage still,
And let rich Carthage fleete upon the seas,
So I may have Aeneas in mine armes.
Is this the wood that grew in Carthage plaines,
And would be toyling in the watrie billowes,
To rob their mistresse of her Troian guest?
O cursed tree, hadst thou but wit or sense,
To measure how I prize Aeneas love,
Thou wouldst have leapt from out the Sailers hands,
And told me that Aeneas ment to goe:
And yet I blame thee not, thou art but wood.
The water which our Poets terme a Nimph,
Why did it suffer thee to touch her breast,
And shrunke not backe, knowing my love was there?
The water is an Element, no Nimph,
Why should I blame Aeneas for his flight?
O Dido, blame not him, but breake his oares,
These were the instruments that launcht him forth,
Theres not so much as this base tackling too,
But dares to heape up sorrowe to my heart:
Was it not you that hoysed up these sailes?
Why burst you not, and they fell in the seas?
For this will Dido tye ye full of knots,
And sheere ye all asunder with her hands:
Now serve to chastize shipboyes for their faults,
Ye shall no more offend the Carthage Queene.
Now let him hang my favours on his masts,
And see if those will serve in steed of sailes:
For tackling, let him take the chaines of gold,
Which I bestowd upon his followers:
In steed of oares, let him use his hands,
And swim to Italy, Ile keepe these sure:
Come beare them in.
Act Four, Scene Five
Enter the Nurse with Cupid for Ascanius.
My Lord Ascanius, ye must goe with me.
Whither must I goe? Ile stay with my mother.
No, thou shalt goe with me unto my house,
I have an Orchard that hath store of plums,
Browne Almonds, Servises, ripe Figs and Dates,
Dewberries, Apples, yellow Orenges,
A garden where are Bee hives full of honey,
Musk-roses, and a thousand sort of flowers,
And in the midst doth run a silver streame,
Where thou shalt see the red gild fishes leape,
White Swannes, and many lovely water fowles:
Now speake Ascanius, will ye goe or no?
Come come, Ile goe, how farre hence is your house?
But hereby child, we shall get thither straight.
Nurse I am wearie, will you carrie me?
I, so youle dwell with me and call me mother.
So youle love me, I care not if I doe.
That I might live to see this boy a man,
How pretilie he laughs, goe ye wagge,
Youle be a twigger when you come to age.
Say Dido what she will I am not old,
Ile be no more a widowe, I am young,
Ile have a husband, or els a lover.
A husband and no teeth!
O what meane I to have such foolish thoughts!
Foolish is love, a toy.—O sacred love,
If there be any heaven in earth, tis love:
Especially in women of our yeares.—
Blush blush for shame, why shouldst thou thinke of love?
A grave, and not a lover fits thy age:—
A grave? why, I may live a hundred yeares,
Fourescore is but a girles age, love is sweete:—
My vaines are withered, and my sinewes drie,
Why doe I thinke of love now I should dye?
Well, if he come a wooing he shall speede,
O how unwise was I to say him nay!
Act Five, Scene One
Enter Aeneas with a paper in his hand, drawing the platforme of the citie, with him Achates, [Sergestus,] Cloanthus, and Illioneus.
Triumph, my mates, our travels are at end,
Here will Aeneas build a statelier Troy,
Then that which grim Atrides overthrew:
Carthage shall vaunt her pettie walles no more,
For I will grace them with a fairer frame,
And clad her in a Chrystall liverie,
Wherein the day may evermore delight:
From golden India Ganges will I fetch,
Whose wealthie streames may waite upon her towers,
And triple wise intrench her round about:
The Sunne from Egypt shall rich odors bring,
Wherewith his burning beames like labouring Bees,
That bade their thighes with Hyblas honeys spoyles,
Shall here unburden their exhaled sweetes,
And plant our pleasant suburbes with her fumes.
What length or bredth shal this brave towne containe?
Not past foure thousand paces at the most.
But what shall it be calde, Troy as before?
That have I not determinde with my selfe.
Let it be term'd Aenea by your name.
Rather Ascania by your little sonne.
Nay, I will haue it calde Anchisaeon,
Of my old fathers name.
Enter Hermes with Ascanius.
Aeneas stay, Joves Herald bids thee stay.
Whom doe I see, Joves winged messenger?
Welcome to Carthage new erected towne.
Why cosin, stand you building Cities here,
And beautifying the Empire of this Queene,
While Italy is cleane out of thy minde?
To too forgetfull of thine owne affayres,
Why wilt thou so betray thy sonnes good hap?
The king of Gods sent me from highest heaven,
To sound this angrie message in thine eares.
Vaine man, what Monarky expectst thou here?
Or with what thought sleepst thou in Libia shoare?
If that all glorie hath forsaken thee,
And thou despise the praise of such attempts:
Yet thinke upon Ascanius prophesie,
And yong Iulus more then thousand yeares,
Whom I have brought from Ida where he slept,
And bore yong Cupid unto Cypresse Ile.
This was my mother that beguild the Queene,
And made me take my brother for my sonne:
No marvell Dido though thou be in love,
That daylie dandlest Cupid in thy armes:
Welcome sweet child, where hast thou been this long?
Eating sweet Comfites with Queene Didos maide,
Who ever since hath luld me in her armes.
Sergestus, beare him hence unto our ships,
Lest Dido spying him keepe him for a pledge.
[Exit Sergestus with Ascanius.]
Spendst thou thy time about this little boy,
And givest not eare unto the charge I bring?
I tell thee thou must straight to Italy,
Or els abide the wrath of frowning Jove. [Exit.]
How should I put into the raging deepe,
Who have no sailes nor tackling for my ships?
What, would the Gods have me, Deucalion like,
Flote up and downe where ere the billowes drive?
Though she repairde my fleete and gave me ships,
Yet hath she tane away my oares and masts,
And left me neither saile nor sterne abourd.
Enter to them Iarbus.
How now Aeneas, sad, what meanes these dumpes?
Iarbus, I am cleane besides my selfe,
Jove hath heapt on me such a desperate charge,
Which neither art nor reason may atchieve,
Nor I devise by what meanes to contrive.
As how I pray, may I entreate you tell.
With speede he bids me saile to Italy,
When as I want both rigging for my fleete,
And also furniture for these my men.
If that be all, then cheare thy drooping lookes,
For I will furnish thee with such supplies:
Let some of those thy followers goe with me,
And they shall have what thing so ere thou needst.
Thankes good Iarbus for thy friendly ayde,
Achates and the rest shall waite on thee,
Whil'st I rest thankfull for this curtesie.
Exit Iarbus and Aeneas traine.
Now will I haste unto Lavinian shoare,
And raise a new foundation to old Troy,
Witnes the Gods, and witnes heaven and earth,
How loth I am to leave these Libian bounds,
But that eternall Jupiter commands.
Enter Dido [attended] to Aeneas.
I feare I sawe Aeneas little sonne,
Led by Achates to the Troian fleete:
If it be so, his father meanes to flye:
But here he is, now Dido trie thy wit.
Aeneas, wherefore goe
thy men abourd?
Why are thy ships new rigd? or to what end
Launcht from the haven, lye they in the Rhode?
Pardon me though I aske, love makes me aske.
O pardon me, if I resolve thee why:
Aeneas will not fame with his deare love,
I must from hence: this day swift Mercury
When I was laying a platforme for these walies,
Sent from his father Jove, appeard to me,
And in his name rebukt me bitterly,
For lingering here, neglecting Italy.
But yet Aeneas will not leave his love?
I am commaunded by immortall Jove,
To leave this towne and passe to Italy,
And therefore must of force.
These words proceed not from Aeneas heart.
Not from my heart, for I can hardly goe,
And yet I may not stay, Dido farewell.
Farewell: is this the mends for Didos love?
Doe Trojans use to quit their Lovers thus?
Fare well may Dido, so Aeneas stay,
I dye, if my Aeneas say farewell.
Then let me goe and never say farewell?
Let me goe, farewell, I must from hence,
These words are poyson to poore Didos soule,
O speake like my Aeneas, like my love:
Why look'st thou toward the sea? the time hath been
When Didos beautie chaind thine eyes to her:
Am I lesse faire then when thou sawest me first?
O then Aeneas, tis for griefe of thee:
Say thou wilt stay in Carthage with thy Queene,
And Didos beautie will returne againe:
Aeneas, say, how canst thou take thy leave?
Wilt thou kisse Dido? O thy lips have sworne
To stay with Dido: canst thou take her hand?
Thy hand and mine have plighted mutuall faith,
Therefore unkind Aeneas, must thou say,
Then let me goe, and never say farewell?
O Queene of Carthage, wert thou ugly blacke,
Aeneas could not choose but hold thee deare,
Yet must he not gainsay the Gods behest.
The Gods, what Gods be those that seeke my death?
Wherein have I offended Jupiter,
That he should take Aeneas from mine armes?
O no, the Gods wey not what Lovers doe,
It is Aeneas calles Aeneas hence,
And wofull Dido by these blubbred cheekes,
By this right hand, and by our spousall rites,
Desires Aeneas to remaine with her:
Si bene quid de te merui, fuit aut tibi quidquam
Dulce meum, miserere domus labentis: et istam
Oro, si quis adhuc precibus locus, exue mentem.
Desine meque tuis incendere teque querelis,
Italiam non sponte sequor.
Hast thou forgot how many neighbour kings
Were up in armes, for making thee my love?
How Carthage did rebell, Iarbus storme,
And all the world calles me a second Helen,
For being intangled by a strangers lookes:
So thou wouldst prove as true as Paris did,
Would, as faire Troy was, Carthage might be sackt,
And I be calde a second Helena.
Had I a sonne by thee, the griefe were lesse,
That I might see Aeneas in his face:
Now if thou goest, what canst thou leave behind,
But rather will augment then ease my woe?
In vaine my love thou spendst thy fainting breath,
If words might move me I were overcome.
And wilt thou not be mov'd with Didos words?
Thy mother was no Goddesse perjurd man,
Nor Dardanus the author of thy stocke:
But thou art sprung from Scythian Caucasus,
And Tygers of Hircania gave thee sucke:
Ah foolish Dido to forbeare this long!
Wast thou not wrackt upon this Libian shoare,
And cam'st to Dido like a Fisher swaine?
Repairde not I thy ships, made thee a King,
And all thy needie followers Noblemen?
O Serpent that came creeping from the shoare,
And I for pitie harbord in my bosome,
Wilt thou now slay me with thy venomed sting,
And hisse at Dido for preserving thee?
Goe goe and spare not, seeke out Italy,
I hope that that which love forbids me doe,
The Rockes and Sea-gulfes will performe at large,
And thou shalt perish in the billowes waies,
To whom poore Dido doth bequeath revenge.
I traytor, and the waves shall cast thee up,
Where thou and false Achates first set foote:
Which if it chaunce, Ile give ye buriall,
And weepe upon your liveles carcases,
Though thou nor he will pitie me a whit.
Why star'st thou in my face? if thou wilt stay,
Leape in mine armes, mine armes are open wide:
If not, turne from me, and Ile turne from thee:
For though thou hast the heart to say farewell,
I have not power to stay thee: is he gone? [Exit Aeneas.]
I but heele come againe,
he cannot goe,
He loves me to too well to serve me so:
Yet he that in my sight would not relent,
Will, being absent, be obdurate still.
By this is he got to the water side,
And, see the Sailers take him by the hand,
But he shrinkes backe, and now remembring me,
Returnes amaine: welcome, welcome my love:
But wheres Aeneas? ah hees gone hees gone!
What meanes my sister thus to rave and crye?
OAnna, my Aeneas is abourd,
And leaving me will saile to Italy.
Once didst thou goe, and he came backe againe,
Now bring him backe, and thou shalt be a Queene,
And I will live a private life with him.
Call him not wicked, sister, speake him faire,
And looke upon him with a Mermaides eye,
Tell him, I never vow'd at Aulis gulfe
The desolation of his native Troy,
Nor sent a thousand ships unto the walles,
Nor ever violated faith to him:
Request him gently (Anna) to returne,
I crave but this, he stay a tide or two,
That I may learne to beare it patiently,
If he depart thus suddenly, I dye:
Run Anna, run, stay not to answere me.
I goe faire sister, heavens graunt good successe.
Enter the Nurse.
ODido, your little sonne Ascanius
Is gone! he lay with me last night,
And in the morning he was stolne from me,
I thinke some Fairies have beguiled me.
O cursed hagge and false dissembling wretch!
That slayest me with thy harsh and hellish tale,
Thou for some pettie guift hast let him goe,
And I am thus deluded of my boy:
Away with her to prison presently,
Traytoresse too keene and cursed Sorceresse.
I know not what you meane by treason, I,
I am as true as any one of yours.
Away with her, suffer her not to speake
Exeunt the Nurse [and Attendants].
My sister comes, I like not her sad lookes.
Before I came, Aeneas was abourd,
And spying me, hoyst up the sailes amaine:
But I cride out, Aeneas, false Aeneas stay.
Then gan he wagge his hand, which yet held up,
Made me suppose he would have heard me speake:
Then gan they drive into the Ocean,
Which when I viewd, I cride, Aeneas stay,
Dido, faire Dido wils Aeneas stay:
Yet he whose hearts of adamant or flint,
My teares nor plaints could mollifie a whit:
Then carelesly I rent my haire for griefe,
Which seene to all, though he beheld me not,
They gan to move him to redresse my ruth,
And stay a while to heare what I could say,
But he clapt under hatches saild away.
OAnna, Anna, I will follow him.
How can ye goe when he hath all your fleete?
Ile frame me wings of waxe like Icarus,
And ore his ships will soare unto the Sunne,
That they may melt and I fall in his armes:
Or els Ile make a prayer unto the waves,
That I may swim to him like Tritons neece:
O Anna, fetch Arions Harpe,
That I may tice a Dolphin to the shoare,
And ride upon his backe unto my love:
Looke sister, looke lovely Aeneas ships,
See see, the billowes heave him up to heaven,
And now downe falles the keeles into the deepe:
O sister, sister, take away the Rockes,
Theile breake his ships, O Proteus, Neptune, Jove,
Save, save Aeneas, Didos leefest love!
Now is he come on shoare safe without hurt:
But see, Achates wils him put to sea,
And all the Sailers merrie make for joy,
But he remembring me shrinkes backe againe:
See where he comes, welcome, welcome my love.
Ah sister, leave these idle fantasies,
Sweet sister cease, remember who you are.
Dido I am, unlesse I be deceiv'd,
And must I rave thus for a runnagate?
Must I make ships for him to saile away?
Nothing can beare me to him but a ship,
And he hath all my fleete, what shall I doe
But dye in furie of this oversight?
I, I must be the murderer of my selfe:
No but I am not, yet I will be straight.
Anna be glad, now have I found a meane
To rid me from these thoughts of Lunacie:
Not farre from hence
There is a woman famoused for arts,
Daughter unto the Nimphs Hesperides,
Who wild me sacrifize his ticing relliques:
Goe Anna, bid my servants bring me fire.
How long will Dido mourne a strangers flight,
That hath dishonord her and Carthage both?
How long shall I with griefe consume my daies,
And reape no guerdon for my truest love?
[Enter Attendants with wood and fire.]
Iarbus, talke not of Aeneas, let him goe,
Lay to thy hands and helpe me make a fire,
That shall consume all that this stranger left,
For I entend a private Sacrifize,
To cure my minde that melts for unkind love.
But afterwards will Dido graunt me love?
I, I, Iarbus, after this is done,
None in the world shall have my love but thou:
So, leave me now, let none approach this place. Exit .
Now Dido, with these
reliques burne thy selfe,
And make Aeneas famous through the world,
For perjurie and slaughter of a Queene:
Here lye the Sword that in the darksome Cave
He drew, and swore by to be true to me,
Thou shalt burne first, thy crime is worse then his;
Here lye the garment which I cloath'd him in,
When first he came on shoare, perish thou to:
These letters, lines, and perjurd papers all,
Shall burne to cinders in this pretious flame.
And now ye gods that guide the starrie frame,
And order all things at your high dispose,
Graunt, though the traytors land in Italy,
They may be still tormented with unrest,
And from mine ashes let a Conquerour rise,
That may revenge this treason to a Queene,
By plowing up his Countries with the Sword:
Betwixt this land and that be never league,
Littora littoribus contraria,fluctibus undas
Imprecor: arma armis: pugnent ipsique nepotes:
Live false Aeneas, truest Dido dyes,
Sic sic juvat ire sub umbras.
[Throws herself into the flames.]
O helpe Iarbus, Dido in these flames
Hath burnt her selfe, aye me, unhappie me!
Enter Iarbus running.
Cursed Iarbus, dye to expiate
The griefe that tires upon thine inward soule.
Dido I come to thee, aye me Aeneas.
What can my teares or cryes prevaile me now?
Dido is dead,
Iarbus slaine, Iarbus my deare love,
O sweet Iarbus, Annas sole delight,
What fatall destinie envies me thus,
To see my sweet Iarbus slay himselfe?
But Anna now shall honor thee in death,
And mixe her bloud with thine, this shall I doe,
That Gods and men may pitie this my death,
And rue our ends senceles of life or breath:
Now sweet Iarbus stay, I come to thee.