Actus 3. Scena I.
Enter Cupid solus.
Cupid. Now Cupid cause the Carthaginian Queene,
To be inamourd of thy brothers lookes,
Conuey this golden arrowe in thy sleeue,
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.
Iar. How long faire Dido shall I pine for thee?
Tis not enough that thou doest graunt me loue,
But that I may enioy what I desire:
That loue is childish which consists in words.
Dido. Iarbus, know that thou of all my wooers
(And yet haue I had many mightier Kings)
Hast had the greatest fauours I could giue:
I feare me Dido hath been counted light,
In being too familiar with Iarbus:
Albeit the Gods doe know no wanton thought
Had euer residence in Didos breast.
Iar. But Dido is the fauour I request.
Dido. Feare not Iarbus, Dido may be thine.
Anna. Looke sister how Æneas little sonne Playes with your garments and imbraceth you.
Cupid. No Dido will not take me in her armes, I shall not be her sonne, she loues me not.
Dido. 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 learnst thou this pretie song?
Cupid. My cosin Helen taught it me in Troy.
Dido. How louely is Ascanius when he smiles?
Cupid. Will Dido let me hang about her necke?
Dido. I wagge, and giue thee leaue to kisse her to.
Cupid. What will you giue me? now Ile haue this Fanne.
Dido. Take it Ascanius, for thy fathers sake.
Iar. Come Dido, leaue Ascanius, let vs walke.
Dido. Goe thou away, Ascanius shall stay.
Iar. Vngentle Queene, is this thy loue to me?
Dido. O stay Iarbus, and Ile goe with thee.
Cupid. And if my mother goe, Ile follow her.
Dido. Why staiest thou here? thou art no loue of mine?
Iar. Iarbus dye, seeing she abandons thee.
Dido. No, liue Iarbus, what hast thou deseru’d,
That I should say thou art no loue of mine?
Something thou hast deseru’d, away I say,
Depart from Carthage, come not in my sight.
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?
Dido. Because his lothsome sight offends mine eye,
And in my thoughts is shrin’d another loue:
O Anna, didst thou know how sweet loue were,
Full soone wouldst thou abiure this single life.
Anna. Poore soule I know too well the sower of loue, O that Iarbus could but fancie me.
Dido. Is not Æneas faire and beautifull?
Anna. Yes, and Iarbus foule and fauourles.
Dido. Is he not eloquent in all his speech?
Anna. Yes, and Iarbus rude and rusticall.
Dido. Name not Iarbus, but sweete Anna say, Is not Æneas worthie Didos loue?
Anna. O sister, were you Empresse of the world, Æneas well deserues to be your loue, So lovely is he that where ere he goes, The people swarme to gaze him in the face.
Dido. But tell them none shall gaze on him but I, Lest their grosse eye-beames taint my louers cheekes: Anna, good sister Anna goe for him, Lest with these sweete thoughts I melt cleane away.
Anna. Then sister youle abiure Iarbus loue?
Dido. Yet must I heare that lothsome name againe? Runne for Æneas, or Ile flye to him. Exit Anna.
Cupid. You shall not hurt my father when he comes.
Dido. No, for thy sake Ile loue thy father well.
O dull conceipted Dido, that till now
Didst neuer thinke Æneas beautifull:
But now for quittance of this ouersight,
Ile make me bracelets of his golden haire,
His glistering eyes shall be my looking glasse,
His lips an altar, where Ile offer vp
As many kisses as the Sea hath sands,
In stead of musicke I will heare him speake,
His lookes shall be my only Librarie,
And thou Æneas, Didos treasurie,
In whose faire bosome I will locke more wealth,
Then twentie thousand Indiaes can affoord:
O here he comes, loue, loue, giue Dido leaue
To be more modest then her thoughts admit,
Lest I be made a wonder to the world.
Achates, how doth Carthage please your Lord?
Acha. That will Æneas shewe your maiestie.
Dido. Æneas art thou there?
Æn. I vnderstand your highnesse sent for me.
Dido. No, but now thou art here, tell me in sooth, In what might Dido highly pleasure thee.
Æn. So much haue I receiu’d at Didos hands,
As without blushing I can aske no more:
Yet Queene of Affricke, are my ships vnrigd,
My Sailes all rent in sunder with the winde,
My Oares broken, and my Tackling lost,
Yea all my Nauie split with Rockes and Shelfes:
Nor Sterne nor Anchor haue our maimed Fleete,
Our Masts the furious windes strooke ouer bourd:
Which piteous wants if Dido will supplie,
We will account her author of our liues.
Dido. Æneas, Ile repaire thy Troian ships,
Conditionally that thou wilt stay with me,
And let Achates saile to Italy:
Ile giue thee tackling made of riueld gold,
Wound on the barkes of odoriferous trees,
Oares of massie Iuorie 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 aboue the waues;
The Masts whereon thy swelling sailes shall hang,
Hollow Pyramides of siluer plate:
The sailes of foulded Lawne, where shall be wrought
The warres of Troy, but not Troyes ouerthrow:
For ballace, emptie Didos treasurie,
Take what ye will, but leaue Æneas 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 fauours of more soueraigne worth,
Then Thetis hangs about Apolloes necke,
So that Æneas may but stay with me.
Æn. Wherefore would Dido haue Æneas stay?
Dido. To warre against my bordering enemies: Æneas, thinke not Dido is in loue: For if that any man could conquer me, I had been wedded ere Æneas came: See where the pictures of my suiters hang, And are not these as faire as faire may be?
Acha. I saw this man at Troy ere Troy was sackt.
Æn. I this in Greece when Paris stole faire Helen.
Illio. This man and I were at Olympus games.
Serg. I know this face, he is a Persian borne, I traueld with him to Ætolia.
Cloan. And I in Athens with this gentleman, Vnlesse I be deceiu’d disputed once.
Dido. But speake Æneas, know you none of these?
Æn. No Madame, but it seemes that these are Kings.
Dido. All these and others which I neuer sawe,
Haue been most vrgent suiters for my loue,
Some came in person, others sent their Legats:
Yet none obtaind me, I am free from all,
And yet God knowes intangled vnto one.
This was an Orator, and thought by words
To compasse me, but yet he was deceiu’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 heauen and him I loue,
I was as farre from loue, as they from hate.
Æn. O happie shall he be whom Dido loues.
Dido. Then neuer say that thou art miserable,
Because it may be thou shalt be my loue:
Yet boast not of it, for I loue thee not,
And yet I hate thee not: O if I speake
I shall betray my selfe: Æneas 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. Exeunt.
Enter Iuno to Ascanius asleepe.
Iuno. Here lyes my hate, Æneas cursed brat,
The boy wherein false destinie delights,
The heire of furie, the fauorite of the face,
That vgly 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 heauen Ile murder him,
And feede infection with his left out life:
Say Paris, now shall Venus haue 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 made to hurt,
And haue no gall at all to grieue my foes:
But lustfull Ioue and his adulterous child,
Shall finde it written on confusions front,
That onely Iuno rules in Rhamnuse towne.
Enter Venus.
Venus. What should this meane? my Doues are back returnd, Who warne me of such daunger prest at hand, To harme my sweete Ascanius louely life. Iuno, my mortall foe, what make you here? Auaunt old witch and trouble not my wits.
Iuno. 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 disioyne,
Whom kindred and acquaintance counites.
Venus. Out hatefull hag, thou wouldst haue slaine my sonne,
Had not my Doues discou’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.
Iuno. Is this then all the thankes that I shall haue,
For sauing him from Snakes and Serpents stings,
That would haue 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 aduanced by my Hebes shame,
And Paris iudgement of the heauenly ball,
I mustred all the windes vnto his wracke,
And vrg’d each Element to his annoy:
Yet now I doe repent me of his ruth,
And wish that I had neuer wrongd him so:
Bootles I sawe it was to warre with fate,
That hath so many vnresisted friends:
Wherefore I chaunge my counsell with the time,
And planted loue where enuie erst had sprong.
Venus. Sister of Ioue, if that thy loue be such,
As these thy protestations doe paint forth,
We two as friends one fortune will deuide:
Cupid shall lay his arrowes in thy lap,
And to a Scepter chaunge his golden shafts,
Fancie and modestie shall liue as mates,
And thy faire peacockes by my pigeons pearch:
Loue my Æneas, and desire is thine,
The day, the night, my Swannes, my sweetes are thine.
Iuno. More then melodious are these words to me,
That ouercioy my soule with their content:
Venus, sweete Venus, how may I deserue
Such amourous fauours at thy beautious hand?
But that thou maist more easilie perceiue,
How highly I doe prize this amitie,
Harke to a motion of eternall league,
Which I will make in quittance of thy loue:
Thy sonne thou knowest with Dido now remaines,
And feedes his eyes with fauours of her Court,
She likewise in admyring spends her time,
And cannot talke nor thinke of ought but him:
Why should not they then ioyne 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 loues are so alike,
And both our Deities conioynd in one,
Shall chaine felicitie vnto their throne.
Venus. 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 Lauinias shoare.
Iuno. Faire Queene of loue, I will deuorce these doubts,
And finde the way to wearie such fond thoughts:
This day they both a hunting forth will ride
Into these woods, adioyning to these walles,
When in the midst of all their gamesome sports,
Ile make the Clowdes dissolue their watrie workes,
And drench Siluanus dwellings with their shewers,
Then in one Caue the Queene and he shall meete,
And interchangeably discourse their thoughts,
Whose short conclusion will seale vp their hearts,
Vnto the purpose which we now propound.
Venus. Sister, I see you sauour of my wiles,
Be it as you will haue 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, Exeunt.
Enter Dido, Æneas, Anna, Iarbus, Achates, and followers.
Dido. Æneas, 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 haue store of game:
Faire Troian, hold my golden bowe awhile,
Vntill I gird my quiuer to my side:
Lords goe before, we two must talke alone.
Iar. Vngentle, can she wrong Iarbus so? Ile dye before a stranger haue that grace: We two will talke alone, what words be these?
Dido. What makes Iarbus here of all the rest? We could haue gone without your companie.
Æn. But loue and duetie led him on perhaps, To presse beyond acceptance to your sight.
Iar. Why man of Troy, doe I offend thine eyes? Or art thou grieude thy betters presse so nye?
Dido. How now Getulian, are ye growne so braue, To challenge vs with your comparisons? Pesant, goe seeke companions like thy selfe, And meddle not with any that I loue: Æneas, be not moude at what he sayes, For otherwhile he will be out of ioynt.
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.
Æn. Stoute friend Achates, doest thou know this wood?
Acha. As I remember, here you shot the Deere,
That sau’d your famisht souldiers liues from death,
When first you set your foote vpon the shoare,
And here we met fair Venus virgine like,
Bearing her bowe and quiuer at her backe.
Æn. O how these irksome labours now delight,
And ouerioy my thoughts with their escape:
Who would not vndergoe all kind of toyle,
To be well stor’d with such a winters tale?
Dido. Æneas, leaue these dumpes and lets away, Some to the mountaines, some vnto the soyle, You to the vallies, thou vnto the house.
Exeunt omnes: manent.
Iar. I, this it is which wounds me to the death,
To see a Phrigian far fet to the sea,
Preferd before a man of maiestie:
O loue, O hate, O cruell womens hearts,
That imitate the Moone in euery chaunge,
And like the Planets euer loue to raunge:
What shall I doe thus wronged with disdaine?
Reuenge me on Æneas, or on her:
On her? fond man, that were to warre gainst heauen,
And with one shaft prouoke ten thousand darts:
This Troians end will be thy enuies aime,
Whose bloud will reconcile thee to content,
And make loue 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 vnto newe fancies shapes:
O God of heauen, turne the hand of fate
Vnto that happie day of my delight,
And then, what then? Iarbus shall but loue:
So doth he now, though not with equall gaine,
That resteth in the riuall of thy paine,
Who nere will cease to soare till he be slaine. Exit.
The storme. Enter Æneas and Dido in the Caue at seuerall times.
Dido. Æneas.
Æn. Dido.
Dido. Tell me deare loue, how found you out this Caue?
Æn. By chance sweete Queene, as Mars and Venus met.
Dido. Why, that was in a net, where we are loose, And yet I am not free, oh would I were.
Æn. Why, what is it that Dido may desire And not obtaine, be it in humaine power?
Dido. The thing that I will dye before I aske, And yet desire to haue before I dye.
Æn. It is not ought Æneas may achieue?
Dido. Æneas no, although his eyes doe pearce.
Æn. What, hath Iarbus angred her in ought? And will she be auenged on his life?
Dido. Not angred me, except in angring thee.
Æn. Who then of all so cruell may he be, That should detaine thy eye in his defects?
Dido. 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: Æneas, O Æneas, quench these flames.
Æn. What ailes my Queene, is she falne sicke of late?
Dido. Not sicke my loue, but sicke, I must conceale The torment, that it bootes me not reueale; And yet Ile speake, and yet Ile hold my peace, Doe shame her worst, I will disclose my griefe: Æneas, thou art he, what did I say? Something it was that now I haue forgot.
Æn. What meanes faire Dido by this doubtfull speech?
Dido. Nay, nothing, but Æneas loues me not.
Æn. Æneas thoughts dare not ascend so high As Didos heart, which Monarkes might not scale.
Dido. It was because I sawe no King like thee,
Whose golden Crowne might ballance my content:
But now that I haue found what to effect,
I followe one that loueth fame for me,
And rather had seeme faire Sirens eyes,
Then to the Carthage Queene that dyes for him.
Æn. If that your maiestie can looke so lowe,
As my despised worths, that shun all praise,
With this my hand I giue to you my heart,
And vow by all the Gods of Hospitalitie,
By heauen and earth, and my faire brothers bowe,
By Paphos, Capys, and the purple Sea,
From whence my radiant mother did descend,
And by this Sword that saued me from the Greekes,
Neuer to leaue these newe vpreared walles,
Whiles Dido liues and rules in Iunos towne,
Neuer to like or loue any but her.
Dido. What more then delian musicke doe I heare,
That calles my soule from forth his liuing seate,
To moue vnto the measures of delight:
Kind clowdes that sent forth such a curteous storme,
As made disdaine to flye to fancies lap:
Stoute loue in mine armes make thy Italy,
Whose Crowne and kingdome rests at thy commande.
Sicheus, not Æneas be thou calde:
The King of Carthage, not Anchises sonne:
Hold, take these Iewels at thy Louers 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.
Exeunt to the Caue.
Actus 4. Scena 1.
Enter Achates, Ascanius, Iarbus, and Anna.
Acha. Did euer men see such a sudden storme? Or day so cleere so suddenly orecast?
Iar. I thinke some fell Inchantresse dwelleth here,
That can call them forth when as she please,
And diue into blacke tempests treasurie,
When as she mcanes to maske the world with clowdes.
Anna. In all my life I neuer knew the like, It haild, it snowde, it lightned all at once.
Acha. I thinke it was the diuels reuelling night,
There was such hurly burly in the heauens:
Doubtles Apollos Axeltree is crackt,
Or aged Atlas shoulder out of ioynt,
The motion was soouer violent.
Iar. In all this coyle, where haue ye left the Queene?
Asca. Nay, where is my warlike father, can you tell?
Anna. Behold where both of them come forth the Caue.
Iar. Come forth the Caue: can heauen endure this sight?
Iarbus, curse that vnreuenging Ioue,
Whose flintie darts slept in Tiphous den,
Whiles these adulterers surfetted with sinne:
Nature, why mad’st me not some poysonous beast,
That with the sharpnes of my edged sting,
I might haue stakte them both vnto the earth,
Whil’st they were sporting in this darksome Caue?
Æn. The ayre is cleere, and Southerne windes are whist, Come Dido, let vs hasten to the towne, Since gloomie Æolus doth cease to frowne.
Dido. Achates and Ascanius, well met.
Æn. Faire Anna, how escapt you from the shower?
Anna. As others did, by running to the wood.
Dido. But where were you Iarbus all this while?
Iar. Not with Æneas in the vgly Caue.
Dido. I see Æneas sticketh in your minde, But I will soone put by that stumbling blocke, And quell those hopes that thus employ your cares. Exeunt.
Enters Iarbus to Sacrifice.
Iar. Come seruants, come bring forth the Sacrifize,
That I may pacifie that gloomie Ioue,
Whose emptie Altars haue enlarg’d our illes.
Eternall Ioue, great master of the Clowdes,
Father of gladnesse, and all frollicke thoughts,
That with thy gloomie hand corrects the heauen,
When ayrie creatures warre amongst themselues:
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 vs entertaine,
Where straying in our borders vp and downe,
She crau’d a hide of ground to build a towne,
With whom we did deuide both lawes and land,
And all the fruites that plentie els sends forth,
Scorning our loues and royall marriage rites,
Yeelds vp her beautie to a strangers bed,
Who hauing wrought her shame, is straight way fled:
Now if thou beest a pitying God of power,
On whom ruth and compassion euer waites,
Redresse these wrongs, and warne him to his ships,
That now afflicts me with his flattering eyes.
Enter Anna.
Anna. How now Iarbus, at your prayers so hard?
Iar. I Anna, is there ought you would with me?
Anna. Nay, no such waightie busines of import,
But may be slackt vntill another time:
Yet if you would partake with me the cause
Of this deuotion that detaineth you,
I would be thankfull for such curtesie.
Iar. Anna, against this Troian doe I pray, Who seekes to rob me of thy Sisters loue, And dive into her heart by coloured lookes.
Anna. 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 loue,
Whose yeelding heart may yeeld thee more reliefe.
Iar. Mine eye is fixt where fancie cannot start,
O leaue me, leaue me to my silent thoughts,
That register the numbers of my ruth,
And I will either moue the thoughtles flint,
Or drop out both mine eyes in drisling teares,
Before my sorrowes tide haue any stint.
Anna. I will not leaue Iarbus whom I loue, In this delight of dying pensiuenes: Away with Dido, Anna be thy song, Anna that doth admire thee more then heauen.
Iar. I may nor will list to such loathsome chaunge,
That intercepts the course of my desire:
Seruants, come fetch these emptie vessels here,
For I will flye from these alluring eyes,
That doe pursue my peace where ere it goes. Exit.
Anna. Iarbus stay, louing Iarbus stay,
For I haue 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 discheueld haire. Exit.
Enter Æneas alone.
Æn. Carthage, my friendly host adue, Since destinie doth call me from the shoare: Hermes this night descending in a dreame, Hath summond me to fruitfull Italy: Ioue wils it so, my mother wils it so: Let my Phenissa graunt, and then I goe: Graunt she or no, Æneas 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 a passage through his toples hilles: Achates come forth, Sergestus, Illioneus, Cloanthus, haste away, Æneas calles.
Enter Achates, Cloanthus, Sergestus, and Illioneus.
Acha. What willes our Lord, or wherefore did he call?
Æn. The dreames (braue mates) that did beset my bed,
When sleepe but newly had imbrast the night,
Commaunds me leaue these vnrenowmed beames,
Whereas Nobilitie abhors to stay,
And none but base Æneas 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 my bodie to my lips,
That tyed together by the striuing tongues,
We may as one saile into Italy.
Acha. Banish that ticing dame from forth your mouth,
And follow your foreseeing starres in all;
This is no life for men at armes to liue,
Where daliance doth consume a Souldiers strength,
And wanton motions of alluring eyes,
Effeminate our mindes inur’d to warre.
Illio. Why, let vs build a Citie of our owne,
And not stand lingering here for amorous lookes:
Will Dido raise old Priam forth his graue,
And build the towne againe the Greekes did burne?
No no, she cares not how we sinke or swimme,
So she may haue Æneas in her armes.
Cloan. To Italy, sweete friends to Italy, We will not stay a minute longer here.
Æn. Troians abourd, and I will follow you,
I faine would goe, yet beautie calles me backe:
To leaue her so and not once say farewell,
Were to transgresse against all lawes of loue:
But if I vse such ceremonious thankes,
As parting friends accustome on the shoare,
Her siluer armes will coll me round about,
And teares of pearle, crye stay, Æneas, stay:
Each word she sayes will then containe a Crowne,
And euery speech be ended with a kisse:
I may not dure this female drudgerie,
To sea Æneas, finde out Italy. Exit.
Enter Dido and Anna.
Dido. O Anna, runne vnto the water side,
They say Æneas men are going abourd,
It may be he will steale away with them:
Stay not to answere me, runne Anna runne.
O foolish Troians that would steale from hence,
And not let Dido vnderstand their drift:
I would haue giuen Achates store of gold,
And Illioneus gum and Libian spice,
The common souldiers rich imbrodered coates,
And siluer whistles to controule the windes,
Which Circes sent Sicheus when he liued:
Vnworthie are they of a Queenes reward:
See where they come, how might I doe to chide?
Enter Anna, with Æneas, Achates, Illioneus, and Sergestus.
Anna. Twas time to runne, Æneas had been gone, The sailes were hoysing vp, and he abourd.
Dido. Is this thy loue to me?
Æn. O princely Dido, giue me leaue to speake, I went to take my farewell Achates.
Dido. How haps Achates bid me not farewell?
Acha. Because I feard your grace would keepe me here.
Dido. To rid thee of that doubt, abourd againe, I charge thee put to sea and stay not here.
Acha. Then let Æneas goe abourd with vs.
Dido. Get you abourd, Æneas meanes to stay.
Æn. The sea is rough, the windes blow to the shoare.
Dido. O false Æneas, now the sea is rough, But when you were abourd twas calme enough, Thou and Achates ment to saile away.
Æn. Hath not the Carthage Queene mine onely sonne? Thinkes Dido I will goe and leaue him here?
Dido. Æneas pardon me, for I forgot
That yong Ascanius lay with me this night:
Loue made me iealous, but to make amends,
Weare the emperiall Crowne of Libia,
Sway thou the Punike Scepter in my steede,
And punish me Æneas for this crime.
Æn. This kisse shall be faire Didos punishment.
Dido. O how a Crowne becomes Æneas head! Stay here Æneas, and commaund as King.
Æn. 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 Æneas.
Dido. O keepe them still, and let me gaze my fill:
Now lookes Æneas like immortall Ioue,
O where is Ganimed to hold his cup,
And Mercury to flye for what he calles,
Ten thousand Cupids houer in the ayre,
And fanne it in Æneas louely face,
O that the Clowdes were here wherein thou fleest,
That thou and I vnseene might sport our selues:
Heauens enuious of our ioyes is waxen pale,
And when we whisper, then the starres fall downe,
To be partakers of our honey talke.
Æn. O Dido, patronesse of all our liues,
When I leaue thee, death be my punishment,
Swell raging seas, frowne wayward destinies,
Blow windes, threaten ye Rockes and sandie shelfes,
This is the harbour that Æneas seekes,
Lets see what tempests can anoy me now.
Dido. Not all the world can take thee from mine armes,
Æneas may commaund as many Moores,
As in the Sea are little water drops:
And now to make experience of my loue,
Faire sister Anna leade my louer 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 vpon him as their soueraigne Lord.
Anna. What if the Citizens repine thereat?
Dido. Those that dislike what Dido giues in charge,
Commaund my guard to slay for their offence:
Shall vulgar pesants storme at what I doe?
The ground is mine that giues them sustenance,
The ayre wherein they breathe, the water, fire,
All that they haue, their lands, their goods, their liues,
And I the Goddesse of all these, commaund
Æneas ride as Carthaginian King.
Acha. Æneas for his parentage deserues As large a kingdome as is Libia.
Æn. I, and vnlesse the destinies be false, I shall be planted in as rich a land.
Dido. 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 loue.
Æn. Then here in me shall flourish Priams race,
And thou and I Achates, for reuenge,
For Troy, for Priam, for his fiftie sonnes,
Our kinsmens loues, and thousand guiltles soules,
Will leade an hoste against the hatefull Greekes,
And fire proude Lacedemon ore their heads. Exit.
Dido. Speakes not Æneas like a Conqueror?
O blessed tempests that did driue him in,
O happie sand that made him runne aground:
Henceforth you shall be our Carthage Gods:
I, but it may be he will leaue my loue,
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 vp saile:
I must preuent him, wishing will not serue:
Goe, bid my Nurse take yong Ascanius,
And beare him in the countrey to her house,
Æneas will not goe without his sonne:
Yet left he should, for I am full of feare,
Bring me his oares, his tackling, and his sailes;
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 resolu’d to winne this towne,
Or impious traitors vowde to haue my life,
Affright me not, onely Æneas frowne
Is that which terrifies poore Didos heart:
Nor bloudie speares appearing in the ayre,
Presage the downfall of my Emperie,
Nor blazing Commets threatens Didos death,
It is Æneas frowne that ends my daies:
If he forsake me not, I neuer 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 Æneas tackling, oares and sailes.
Dido. Are these the sailes that in despight of me,
Packt with the windes to beare Æneas hence?
Ile hang ye in the chamber where I lye,
Driue 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 vpon the seas,
So I may haue Æneas 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 Æneas loue,
Thou wouldst haue leapt from out the Sailers hands,
And told me that Æneas 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 loue was there?
The water is an Element, no Nimph,
Why should I blame Æneas 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 vp sorrowe to my heart:
Was it not you that hoysed vp 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 serue to chastize shipboyes for their faults,
Ye shall no more offend the Carthage Queene,
Now let him hang my fauours on his masts,
And see if those will serue in steed of sailes:
For tackling, let him take the chaines of gold,
Which I bestowd vpon his followers:
In steed of oares, let him vse his hands,
And swim to Italy, Ile keepe these sure:
Come beare them in. Exit.
Enter the Nurse with Cupid for Ascanius.
Nurse. My Lord Ascanius, ye must goe with me.
Cupid. Whither must I goe? Ile stay with my mother.
Nurse. No, thou shalt goe with me vnto my house,
I haue an Orchard that hath store of plums,
Browne Almonds, Seruises, ripe Figs and Dates,
Dewberries, Apples, yellow Orenges,
A garden where are Bee hiues full of honey,
Musk-roses, and a thousand sort of flowers,
And in the midst doth run a siluer streame,
Where thou shalt see the red gild fishes leape,
White Swannes, and many louely water fowles:
Now speake Ascanius, will ye goe or no?
Cupid. Come come Ile goe, how farre hence is your house?
Nurse. But hereby child, we shall get thither straight.
Cupid. Nurse I am wearie, will you carrie me?
Nurse. I, so youle dwell with me and call me mother.
Cupid. So youle loue me, I care not if I doe.
Nurse. That I might liue 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 haue a husband, or els a louer.
Cupid. A husband and no teeth!
Nurse. O what meane I to haue such foolish thoughts!
Foolish is loue, a toy, O sacred loue,
If there be any heauen in earth, tis loue:
Especially in women of your yeares.
Blush blush for shame, why shouldst thou thinke of loue?
A graue, and not a louer fits thy age:
A graue, why? I may liue a hundred yeares,
Fourescore is but a girles age, loue is sweete:
My vaines are withered, and my sinewes drie,
Why doe I thinke of loue now I should dye?
Cupid. Come Nurse.
Nurse. Well, if he come a wooing he shall speede, O how vnwise was I to say him nay! Exeunt.
Actus 5.
Enter Æneas with a paper in his hand, drawing the platforme of the citie, with him Achates, Cloanthus, and Illieneus.
Æn. Triumph my mates, our trauels are at end,
Here will Æneas build a statelier Troy,
Then that which grim Atrides ouerthrew:
Carthage shall vaunt her pettie walles no more,
For I will grace them with a fairer frame,
And clad her in a Chrystall liuerie,
Wherein the day may euermore delight:
From golden India Ganges will I fetch,
Whose wealthie streames may waite vpon 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 loade their thighes with Hyblas honeys spoyles,
Shall here vnburden their exhaled sweetes,
And plant our pleasant suburbes with her fumes.
Acha. What length or bredth shal this braue towne cōtaine?
Æn. Not past foure thousand paces at the most.
Illio. But what shall it be calde, Troy as before?
Æn. That haue I not determinde with my selfe.
Cloan. Let it be term’d Ænea by your name.
Serg. Rather Ascania by your little sonne.
Æn. Nay, I will haue it calde Anchisaon, Of my old fathers name.
Enter Hermes with Ascanius.
Hermes. Æneas stay, Ioues Herald bids thee stay.
Æn. Whom doe I see, Ioues winged messenger? Welcome to Carthage new erected towne.
Hermes. 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 heauen,
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 vpon Ascanius prophesie,
And yong Iulus more then thousand yeares,
Whom I haue brought from Ida where he slept,
And bore yong Cupid vnto Cypresse Ile.
Æn. This was my mother that beguild the Queene,
And made me take my brother for my sonne:
No maruell Dido though thou be in loue,
That daylie danlest Cupid in thy armes:
Welcome sweet child, where hast thou been this long?
Asca. Eating sweet Comfites with Queene Didos maide, Who euer since hath luld me in her armes.
Æn. Sergestus, beare him hence vnto our ships, Lest Dido spying him keepe him for a pledge.
Hermes. Spendst thou thy time about this little boy,
And giuest not care vnto the charge I bring?
I tell thee thou must straight to Italy,
Or els abide the wrath of frowning Ioue.
Æn. How should I put into the raging deepe,
Who haue no sailes nor tackling for my ships?
What would the Gods haue me Deucalion like,
Flote vp and downe where ere the billowes driue?
Though she repairde my fleete and gaue me ships,
Yet hath she tane away my oares and masts,
And left me neither saile nor sterne abourd.
Enter to them Iarbus.
Iar. How now Æneas, sad, what meanes these dumpes?
Æn. Iarbus, I am cleane besides my selfe, Ioue hath heapt on me such a desperate charge, Which neither art nor reason may atchieue, Nor I deuise by what meanes to contriue.
Iar. As how I pray, may I entreat you tell.
Æn. With speede he bids me sail to Italy. When as I want both rigging for my fleete, And also furniture for these my men.
Iar. 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 haue what thing so ere thou needst.
Æn. 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 Æneas traine.
Now will I haste vnto Lauinian shoare,
And raise a new foundation to old Troy,
Witnes the Gods, and witnes heauen and earth,
How loth I am to leaue these Libian bounds,
But that eternall Iupiter commands.
Enter Dido and Æneas.
Dido. I feare I sawe Æneas 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.
Æneas, wherefore goe thy men abourd?,
Why are thy ships new rigd? or to what end
Launcht from the hauen, lye they in the Rhode?
Pardon me though I aske, loue makes me aske.
Æn. O pardon me, if I resolue thee why: Æneas will not faine with his deare loue, I must from hence: this day swift Mercury When I was laying a platforme for these walles, Sent from his father Ioue, appeard to me, And in his name rebukt me bitterly, For lingering here, neglecting Italy.
Dido. But yet Æneas will not leaue his loue.
Æn. I am commaunded by immortal Ioue, To leaue this towne and passe to Italy, And therefore must of force.
Dido. These words proceed not from Æneas heart.
Æn. Not from my heart, for I can hardly goe, And yet I may not stay, Dido farewell.
Dido. Farewell: is this the mends for Didos loue?
Doe Troians vse to quit their Louers thus?
Fare well may Dido, so Æneas stay,
I dye, if my Æneas say farewell.
Æn. Then let me goe and neuer say farewell, Let me goe, farewell, I must from hence.
Dido. These words are poyson to poore Didos soule,
O speake like my Æneas, like my loue:
Why look’st thou toward the sea? the time hath been
When Didos beautie chaungd thine eyes to her;
Am I lesse faire then when thou sawest me first?
O then Æneas, tis for griefe of thee:
Say thou wilt stay in Carthage with my Queene,
And Didos beautie will returne againe:
Æneas, say, how canst thou take thy leaue?
Wilt thou kisse Dido? O thy lips haue sworne
To stay with Dido: canst thou take her hand?
Thy Hand and mine haue plighted mutuall faith,
Therefore vnkinde Æneas, must thou say,
Then let me goe, and neuer say farewell.
Æn. O Queene of Carthage, wert thou vgly blacke, Æneas could not choose but hold thee deare, Yet must he not gainsay the Gods behest.
Dido. The Gods, what Gods be those that seeke my death?
Wherein haue I offended Iupiter,
That he should take Æneas from mine armes?
O no, the Gods wey not what Louers doe,
It is Æneas calles Æneas hence,
And wofull Dido by these blubbred cheekes,
By this right hand, and by our spousall rites,
Desires Æneas to remaine with her:
Si bene quid de te merui, fuit aut tibi quidquam
Dulce meum, miserere domus labentis: & istam
Oro, si quis ad hac precibus locus, exue mentem.
Æn. Desine meque tuis incendere teque querelis, Italiam non sponte sequor.
Dido. Hast thou forgot how many neighbour kings
Were vp in armes, for making thee my loue?
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 proue 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 Æneas in his face:
Now if thou goest, what canst thou leaue behind,
But rather will augment then ease my woe?
Æn. In vaine my loue thou spendst thy fainting breath, If words might moue me I were ouercome.
Dido. And wilt thou not be mou’d with Didos words?
Thy mother was no Goddesse periurd man,
Nor Dardanus the author of thy stocke:
But thou art Sprung from Scythian Caucasus,
And Tygers of Hircania gaue thee sucke:
Ah foolish Dido to forbeare this long!
Wast thou not wrackt vpon this Libian shoare,
And cam’st to Dido like a Fisherswaine?
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 preseruing thee?
Goe goe and spare not, seeke out Italy,
I hope that that which loue 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 reuenge,
I traytor, and the waues shall cast thee vp,
Where thou and false Achates first set foote:
Which if it chaunce, Ile giue ye buriall,
And weepe vpon your liueles 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 haue not power to stay thee: is he gone?
I but heele come againe, he cannot goe,
He loues me to too well to serue me so:
Yet he that in my sight would not relent,
Will, being absent, be abdurate 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 loue:
But wheres Æneas? ah hees gone hees gone!
Anna. What meanes my sister thus to raue and crye?
Dido. O Anna, my Æneas is abourd,
And leauing 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 liue a priuate life with him.
Anna. Wicked Æneas.
Dido. Call him not wicked, sister speake him faire,
And looke vpon him with a Mermaides eye,
Tell him, I neuer vow’d at Aulis gulfe
The desolation of his natiue Troy,
Nor sent a thousand ships vnto the walles,
Nor euer violated faith to him:
Request him gently (Anna) to returne,
I craue 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.
Anna. I goe faire sister, heauens graunt good successe.
Exit Anna.
Enter the Nurse.
Nurse. O Dido, 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 haue beguiled me.
Dido. 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 keend and cursed Sorceresse.
Nurse. I know not what you meane by treason, I, I am as true as any one of yours. Exeunt the Nurse.
Dido. Away with her, suffer her not to speake. My sister comes, I like not her sad lookes.
Enter Anna.
Anna. Before I came, Æneas was abourd,
And spying me, hoyst vp the sailes amaine:
But I cride out, Æneas, false Æneas stay.
Then gan he wagge his hand, which yet held vp,
Made me suppose he would haue heard me speake:
Then gan they driue into the Ocean,
Which when I viewd, I cride, Æneas stay,
Dido, faire Dido wils Æneas stay:
Yet he whose heart 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 moue him to redresse my ruth,
And stay a while to heare what I could say,
But he clapt vnder hatches saild away.
Dido. O Anna, Anna, I will follow him.
Anna. How can ye goe when he hath all your fleete?
Dido. Ile frame me wings of waxe like Icarus,
And ore his ships will soare vnto the Sunne,
That they may melt and I fall in his armes:
Or els Ile make a prayer vnto the waues,
That I may swim to him like Tritons neece:
O Anna, fetch Orions Harpe,
That I may tice a Dolphin to the shoare,
And ride vpon his backe vnto my loue:
Looke sister, looke louely Æneas ships,
See see, the billowes heaue him vp to heauen,
And now downe falles the keeles into the deepe:
O sister, sister, take away the Rockes,
Theile breake his ships, O Proteus, Neptune, Ioue,
Saue, saue Æneas, Didos leefest loue!
Now is he come on shoare safe without hurt:
But see, Achates wils him put to sea,
And all the Sailers merrie make for ioy,
But he remembring me shrinkes backe againe:
See where he comes, welcome, welcome my loue.
Anna. Ah sister, leaue these idle fantasies, Sweet sister cease, remember who you are.
Dido. Dido I am, vnlesse I be deceiu’d,
And must I raue thus for a renegate?
Must I make ships for him to saile away?
Nothing can beare me to him but a ship,
And he hath all thy fleete, what shall I doe?
But dye in furie of this ouersight?
I, I must be the murderer of my selfe:
No but I am not, yet I will be straight.
Anna be glad, now haue I found a meane
To rid me from these thoughts of Lunacie:
Not farre from hence there is a woman famoused for arts,
Daughter vnto the Nimphs Hesperides,
Who wild me sacrifice his ticing relliques:
Goe Anna, bid my seruants bring me fire. Exit Anna.
Enter Iarbus.
Iar. 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 loue?
Dido. Iarbus, talk not of Æneas, 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 priuate Sacrifize,
To cure my minde that melts for vnkind loue.
Iar. But afterwards will Dido graunt me loue?
Dido. I, I, Iarbus, after this is done,
None in the world shall have my loue but thou:
So, leaue me now, let none approach this place. Exit Iarbus.
Now Dido, with these reliques burne thy selfe,
And make Æneas famous through the world,
For periurie and slaughter of a Queene:
Here lye the Sword that in the darksome Caue
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 periurd papers all,
Shall burne to cinders in this prectious 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 vnrest,
And from mine ashes let a Conquerour rise,
That may reuenge this treason to a Queene,
By plowing vp his Countries with the Sword:
Betwixt this land and that be neuer league,
Littora littoribus contraria, fluctibus undas
Impresor: arma armis: pugnent ipsig nepotes:
Liue false Æneas, truest Dido dyes,
Sic sic inuat ire sub umbras.
Enter Anna.
Anna. O helpe Iarbus, Dido in these flames Hath burnt her selfe, aye me, vnhappie me!
Enter Iarbus running.
Iar. Cursed Iarbus, dye to expiate The griefe that tires vpon thine inward soule, Dido I come to thee, aye me Æneas.
Anna. What can my teares or cryes preuaile me now?
Dido is dead, Iarbus slaine, Iarbus my deare loue,
O sweet Iarbus, Annas sole delight,
What fatall destinie enuies 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.
FINIS