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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/16169-0.txt b/16169-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7538c2c --- /dev/null +++ b/16169-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2749 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Tragedy of Dido Queene of Carthage +by Christopher Marlowe + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Tragedy of Dido Queene of Carthage + +Author: Christopher Marlowe + +Release Date: July 1, 2005 [EBook #16169] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DIDO QUEENE OF CARTHAGE *** + + + + +Produced by Clare Boothby, Clare Elliott and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +The Tudor Facsimile Texts + +The Tragedy of +Dido Queen of Carthage + +Written by +CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE and THOMAS NASH + +1594 + +_Date of this the earliest known edition_.... 1594 + +[_Bodleian_] + +_Reproduced in Facsimile_.... 1914 + + + + +The Tudor Facsimile Texts + +_Under the Supervision and Editorship of_ +JOHN S. FARMER + +The Tragedy of +Dido Queen of Carthage + +Written by +CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE and THOMAS NASH + +1594 + +_Issued for Subscribers by the Editor of_ + +THE TUDOR FACSIMILE TEXTS + +MCMXIV + + + + +The Tragedy of +Dido Queen of Carthage + +Written by CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE and THOMAS NASH + +1594 + + +_This play is facsimiled from the Bodley copy. Other examples +(says Sir Sidney Lee, but unrecorded by Greg) are at Bridgewater +House and at Chatsworth; the Devonshire Collection of Plays has +recently been disposed of to an American collector_. + +_For other and bibliographical details see D.N.B. I have +included in this facsimile the page of manuscript in the Bodley +example inasmuch as it contains matter of interest to the +student._ + +_The reproduction from the original was made by The Clarendon +Press, Oxford_. + + _JOHN S. FARMER_. + + + +[Transcriber's Note: The following paragraphs have been +transcribed from a handwritten page. Some text is illegible, and +this has been marked with asterisks where appropriate.] + +The tragedy of _Dido_ is one of the scarcest plays in the English +language. There are but two copies known to be extant; in the +possession of D^r Wright and M^r Reed. + +M^r Warton speaks in his _Hist. of Eng. Poet_ (III. p. 435) of an +Elegy being prefixed to it on the death of Marlowe; but no such +is found in either of those copies. In answer to my inquiries on +this subject he informed me by letter, [crossed-out text] that a +copy of this play was in Osborne's catalogue in the year 1754, +that he then saw it in his shop (together with several of M^r +Oldys's books that Osborne had purchased), + that the elegy in +question--"on Marlowe's untimely death" was inserted immediately +after the title page; that it mentioned a play of Marlowe's +entitled _The Duke of Guise_ and four others; but whether +particularly by _name_, he could not recollect. Unluckily he did +not purchase this rare piece, + it is now God knows where. + +Bishop Tanner likewise mentions this elegy in so particular a +manner that he must have seen it. "Marlovius (Christopherus), +quondam in academia Cantabrigiensi musarum alumnus; postea actor +scenicus; deinde poeta dramaticus tragicus, paucis inferior +Scripsit plurimas tragedias, sc. Tamerlane.-Tragedie of Dido +Queen of Carthage. Pr. Come gentle Ganymed. Hanc perfecit + +edidit Tho. Nash Lond. 1594. 4^to.--Petrarius in præfatione ad +Secundam partem Herois et Leandri multa in Marlovii +commendationem adfert; hoc etiam facit Tho. Nash in _Carmine +Elegiaco Tragidiæ Didonis præfiso in obitum Christop. Marlovii_, +ubi quatuor ejus tragidiarum mentionem facit, nec non et alterius +_de duce Guisio_." _Bib. Britan._ 1740. + +I suspect M^r Warton had no other authority than this for saying +that this play was left imperfect by Marlowe, and completed + +published by Nashe; for it does not appear from the title page +that it was not written in conjunction by him + Marlowe in the +lifetime of the former. Perhaps Nashe's Elegy might ascertain +this point. Tanner had, I believe, no authority but Philipses, +for calling Marlowe an actor. + +There was an old Latin play on the subject of Dido, written by +John Rightwise and played before Cardinal Wolsey + again before +Queen Elizabeth in 1564. There is also another Latin play on this +subject _Dido_, tragedia nova so quatuor pri*ibus *** +**************** Virgilii disampla Antwerp ed, 1559. + + + + +THE +Tragedie of Dido +_Queene of Carthage:_ + +Played by the Children of her +_Maiesties Chappell._ + +Written by Christopher Marlowe, and +_Thomas Nash. Gent._ + +Actors + +_Iupiter._ _Ascanius._ +_Ganimed._ _Dido._ +_Venus._ _Anna._ +_Cupid._ _Achates._ +_Iuno._ _Ilioneus._ +_Mercurie._ _Iarbas._ +_Hermes._ _Cloanthes._ +_Æneas._ _Sergestus._ + +[Illustration: (Decorative) "BY PEACE PLENTY, BY WISDOME PEACE"] + +AT LONDON, + +Printed, by the Widdowe _Orwin_, for _Thomas Woodcocke_, and +are to be solde at his shop, in Paules Church-yeard, at +the signe of the blacke Beare. 1594. + + + +[Illustration: (Decorative)] + + + + +The Tragedie of _Dido_ Queene +_of Carthage._ + + +_Here the Curtaines draw, there is discovered_ Iupiter _dandling_ +Ganimed _upon his knee, and_ Mercury _lying asleepe_. + +_Iup._ Come gentle _Ganimed_ and play with me, +I loue thee well, say _Iuno_ what she will. + +_Gan._ I am much better for your worthles loue, +That will not shield me from her shrewith 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. + +_Iup._ What? dares she strike the darling of my thoughts? +By _Saturnes_ soule, and this earth threatning aire, +That shaken thrise, makes Natures buildings quake, +I vow, if she but once frowne on thee more, +To hang her meteor like twixt heauen and earth, +And bind her hand and foote with golden cordes, +As once I did for harming _Hercules_. + +_Gan._ 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 _Iupiter_, 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. + +_Iup._ 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, +Haue oft driuen backe the horses of the night. +When as they would haue 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 heauen and earth the bounds of thy delight? +_Vulcan_ shall daunce to make thee laughing sport, +And my nine Daughters sing when thou art sad, +From _Iunos_ bird Ile pluck her spotted pride, +To make thee fannes wherewith to coole thy face, +And _Venus_ Swannes shall shed their siluer 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, +Doe thou but say their colour pleaseth me: +Hold here my little loue these linked gems, +My _Iuno_ ware vpon her marriage day, +Put thou about thy necke my owne sweet heart, +And tricke thy armes and shoulders with my theft. + +_Gan._ I would haue a iewell for mine eare, +And a fine brouch to put in my hat, +And then Ile hugge with you an hundred times. + +_Iup._ And shall haue _Ganimed_, if thou wilt be my loue. + +_Enter Venus._ + +_Venus._ I this is it, you can sit toying there, +And playing with that female wanton boy, +Whiles my _Æneas_ wanders on the Seas, +And rests a pray to euery billowes pride. +_Iuno_, false _Iuno_ in her Chariots pompe, +Drawne through the heauens by Steedes of _Boreas_ brood, +Made _Hebe_ to direct her ayrie wheeles +Into the windie countrie of the clowdes, +Where finding _Æolus_ 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 _Æolia_ to be vp in armes: +Poore _Troy_ must now be sackt vpon the Sea, +And _Neptunes_ waues be enuious men of warre, +_Epeus_ horse to _Ætnas_ hill transformd, +Prepared stands to wracke their woodden walles, +And _Æolus_ 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 _Astræus_ tents. +What shall I doe to saue thee my sweet boy? +When as the waues doe threat our Chrystall world, +And _Proteus_ raising hils of flouds on high, +Entends ere long to sport him in the skie. +False _Iupiter_, rewardst thou vertue so? +What? is not pietie exempt from woe? +Then dye _Æneas_ in thine innocence, +Since that religion hath no recompence. + +_Iup._ Content thee _Cytherea_ in thy care, +Since thy _Æneas_ 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 aduance her head, +And flourish once againe that erst was dead: +But bright _Ascanius_ beauties better worke, +Who with the Sunne deuides one radiant shape, +Shall build his throne amidst those starrie towers, +That earth-borne _Atlas_ groning vnderprops: +No bounds but heauen shall bound his Emperie, +Whose azured gates enchased with his name, +Shall make the morning halt her gray vprise, +To feede her eyes with his engrauen fame. +Thus in stoute _Hectors_ race three hundred yeares, +The Romane Scepter royall shall remaine, +Till that a Princesse priest conceau'd by _Mars_, +Shall yeeld to dignitie a dubble birth, +Who will eternish _Troy_ in their attempts. + +_Venus._ How may I credite these thy flattering termes, +When yet both sea and sands beset their ships, +And _Phœbus_ as in stygian pooles, refraines +To taint his tresses in the Tyrrhen maine? + +_Iup._ 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 Iupiter cum Ganimed._ + +_Venus._ Disquiet Seas lay downe your swelling lookes, +And court _Æneas_ with your calmie cheere, +Whose beautious burden well might make you proude, +Had not the heauens conceau'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 _Cimodoæ_, +To succour him in this extremitie. + +_Enter Æneas with Ascanius, 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 ioyes: +Great _Iupiter_, still honourd maist thou be, +For this so friendly ayde in time of neede. +Here in this bush disguised will I stand, +Whiles my _Æneas_ spends himselfe in plaints, +And heauen and earth with his vnrest acquaints. + +_Æn._ You sonnes of care, companions of my course, +_Priams_ misfortune followes vs by sea, +And _Helens_ rape doth haunt thee at the heeles. +How many dangers haue we ouer past? +Both barking _Scilla_, and the sounding Rocks, +The _Cyclops_ shelues, and grim _Ceranias_ seate +Haue you oregone, and yet remaine aliue! +Pluck vp your hearts, since fate still rests our friend, +And chaunging heauens may those good daies returne, +Which _Pergama_ did vaunt in all her pride. + +_Acha._ Braue Prince of _Troy_, thou onely art our God, +That by thy vertues freest vs from annoy, +And makes our hopes suruiue to cunning ioyes: +Doe thou but smile, and clowdie heauen will cleare, +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 aire, +To make vs liue vnto our former heate, +And euery beast the forrest doth send forth, +Bequeath her young ones to our scanted foode. + +_Asca._ Father I faint, good father giue me meate. + +_Æn._ Alas sweet boy, thou must be still a while, +Till we haue fire to dresse the meate we kild: +Gentle _Achates_, reach the Tinder boxe, +That we may make a fire to warme vs with, +And rost our new found victuals on this shoare. + +_Venus._ See what strange arts necessitie findes out, +How neere my sweet _Æneas_ art thou driuen? + +_Æn._ Hold, take this candle and goe light a fire, +You shall haue leaues 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_ roaue abroad, +To know what coast the winde hath driuen vs on, +Or whether men or beasts inhabite it. + +_Acha._ The ayre is pleasant, and the soyle most fit +For Cities, and societies supports: +Yet much I maruell that I cannot finde, +No steps of men imprinted in the earth. + +_Venus._ 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? +Hauing a quiuer girded to her side, +And cloathed in a spotted Leopards skin. + +_Æn._ 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, +Liue happie in the height of all content, +And lighten our extreames with this one boone, +As to instruct us vnder what good heauen +We breathe as now, and what this world is calde, +On which by tempests furie we are cast, +Tell vs, O tell vs that are ignorant, +And this right hand shall make thy Altars crack +With mountaine heapes of milke white Sacrifize. + +_Venus._ Such honour, stranger, doe I not affect: +It is the vse for Turen maides to weare +Their bowe and quiuer in this modest sort, +And suite themselues in purple for the nonce, +That they may trip more lightly ore the lawndes, +And ouertake the tusked Bore in chase. +But for the land whereof thou doest enquire, +It is the punick kingdome rich and strong, +Adioyning 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? + +_Æn._ Of _Troy_ am I, _Æneas_ is my name, +Who driuen by warre from forth my natiue world, +Put sailes to sea to seeke out _Italy_; +And my diuine descent from sceptred _Iove_, +With twise twelue Phrigian ships I plowed the deepe, +And made that way my mother _Venus_ led: +But of them all scarce seuen doe anchor safe, +And they so wrackt and weltred by the waues, +As euery tide tilts twixt their oken sides: +And all of them vnburdened of their loade, +Are ballassed with billowes watrie weight. +But haples I, God wot, poore and vnknowne, +Doe trace these Libian deserts all despisde, +Exild forth _Europe_ and wide _Asia_ both, +And haue not any couerture but heauen. + +_Venus._ Fortune hath fauord thee what ere thou be, +In sending thee vnto this curteous Coast: +A Gods name on and hast thee to the Court, +Where _Dido_ will receiue ye with her smiles: +And for thy ships which thou supposest lost, +Not one of them hath perisht in the storme, +But are ariued safe not farre from hence: +And so I leaue thee to thy fortunes lot, +Wishing good lucke vnto thy wandring steps. _Exit_. + +_Æn._ _Achates_, tis my mother that is fled, +I know her by the mouings of her feete: +Stay gentle _Venus_, flye not from thy sonne, +Too cruell, why wilt thou forsake me thus? +Or in these shades deceiu'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 leau'st me here alone, +To dull the ayre with my discoursiue moane. _Exit_. + +_Enter Illioneus, and Cloanthes._ + +_Illio._ Follow ye Troians, follow this braue Lord, +And plaine to him the summe of your distresse. + +_Iar._ Why, what are you, or wherefore doe you sewe? + +_Illio._ Wretches of _Troy_, enuied of the windes, +That craue such fauour at your honors feete, +As poore distressed miserie may pleade: +Saue, saue, O saue our ships from cruell fire, +That doe complaine the wounds of thousand waues, +And spare our liues whom euery 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 vnweaponed thoughts, +Whose fading weale of victorie forsooke, +Forbids all hope to harbour neere our hearts. + +_Iar._ But tell me Troians, Troians if you be, +Vnto what fruitfull quarters were ye bound, +Before that _Boreas_ buckled with your sailes? + +_Cloan._ There is a place _Hesperia_ term'd by vs, +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 vs escapt to land, +The rest we feare are foulded in the flouds. + +_Iar._ Braue men at armes, abandon fruitles feares, +Since Carthage knowes to entertaine distresse. + +_Serg._ I but the barbarous sort doe threat our ships, +And will not let vs lodge vpon the sands: +In multitudes they swarme vnto the shoare, +And from the first earth interdict our feete. + +_Iar._ My selfe will see they shall not trouble ye, +Your men and you shall banquet in our Court, +And euery Troian be as welcome here, +As _Iupiter_ to sillie _Vausis_ house: +Come in with me, Ile bring you to my Queene, +Who shall confirme my words with further deedes. + +_Serg._ Thankes gentle Lord for such vnlookt for grace, +Might we but once more see _Æneas_ face, +Then would we hope to quite such friendly turnes, +As shall surpasse the wonder of our speech. + + + + +Actus 2. + + +_Enter Æneas, Achates, and Ascanius._ + +_Æn._ Where am I now? these should be Carthage walles. + +_Acha._ Why stands my sweete _Æneas_ thus amazde? + +_Æn._ 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. +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. + +_Ach._ And in this humor is _Achates_ to, +I cannot choose but fall vpon my knees, +And kisse his hand: O where is _Hecuba_, +Here she was wont to sit, but sauing ayre +Is nothing here, and what is this but stone? + +_Æn._ O yet this stone doth make _Æneas_ weepe, +And would my prayers (as _Pigmalions_ did) +Could giue it life, that vnder his conduct +We might saile backe to _Troy_ and be reuengde +On these hard harted Grecians; which reioyce +That nothing now is left of _Priamus_: +O _Priamus_ is left and this is he, +Come, come abourd, pursue the hatefull Greekes. + +_Acha._ What means _Æneas_? + +_Æn._ _Achates_ though mine eyes say this is stone, +Yet thinkes my minde that this is _Priamus_: +And when my grieued heart sighes and sayes no, +Then would it leape out to giue _Priam_ life: +O were I not at all so thou mightst be. +_Achates_, see King _Priam_ wags his hand, +He is aliue, _Troy_ is not ouercome. + +_Ach._ Thy mind _Æneas_ that would haue it so +Deludes thy eye sight, _Priamus_ is dead. + +_Æn._ Ah _Troy_ is sackt, and _Priamus_ is dead, +And why should poore _Æneas_ be aliue? + +_Asca._ Sweete father leaue to weepe, this is not he: +For were it _Priam_ he would smile on me. + +_Acha._ _Æneas_ see here come the Citizens, +Leaue to lament lest they laugh at our feares. + +_Enter Cloanthus, Sergestus, Illioneus._ + +_Æn._ Lords of this towne, or whatsoeuer stile +Belongs vnto your name, vouchsafe of ruth +To tell vs who inhabits this faire towne, +What kind of people, and who gouernes them: +For we are strangers driuen on this shore, +And scarcely know within what Clime we are. + +_Illio._ I heare _Æneas_ voyce, but see him not, +For none of these can be our Generall. + +_Acha._ Like _Illioneus_ speakes this Noble man, +But _Illioneus_ goes not in such robes. + +_Serg._ You are _Achates_, or I deciu'd. + +_Acha._ _Æneas_ see _Sergestus_ or his ghost. + +_Illio._ He meanes _Æneas_, let vs kisse his feete. + +_Cloan._ It is our Captaine, see _Ascanius_. + +_Serg._ Liue long _Æneas_ and _Ascanius_. + +_Æn._ _Achates_, speake, for I am ouerioyed. + +_Acha._ O _Illioneus_, art thou yet aliue? + +_Illio._ Blest be the time I see _Achates_ face. + +_Cloan._ Why turnes _Æneas_ from his trustie friends? + +_Æn._ _Sergestus_, _Illioneus_ and the rest, +Your sight amazde me, O what destinies +Haue brought my sweete companions in such plight? +O tell me, for I long to be resolu'd. + +_Illio._ Louely _Æneas_, these are Carthage walles, +And here Queene _Dido_ weares th'imperiall Crowne, +Who for _Troyes_ sake hath entertaind vs all, +And clad vs in these wealthie robes we weare. +Oft hath she askt vs vnder whom we seru'd, +And when we told her she would weepe for griefe, +Thinking the sea had swallowed vp thy ships, +And now she sees thee how will she reioyce? + +_Serg._ See where her seruitors passe through the hall +Bearing a banket, _Dido_ is not farre. + +_Illio._ Looke where she comes: _Æneas_ viewd her well. + +_Æn._ Well may I view her, but she sees not me. + +_Enter Dido and her traine._ + +_Dido._ What stranger art thou that doest eye me thus? + +_Æn._ Sometime I was a Troian mightie Queene: +But _Troy_ is not, what shall I say I am? + +_Illio._ Renowmed _Dido_, tis our Generall: warlike _Æneas_. + +_Dido._ Warlike _Æneas_, and in these base robes? +Goe fetch the garment which _Sicheus_ ware: +Braue Prince, welcome to Carthage and to me, +Both happie that _Æneas_ is our guest: +Sit in this chaire and banquet with a Queene, +_Æneas_ is _Æneas_, were he clad +In weedes as bad as euer _Irus_ ware. + +_Æn._ This is no seate for one thats comfortles, +May it please your grace to let _Æneas_ waite: +For though my birth be great, my fortunes meane, +Too meane to be companion to a Queene. + +_Dido._ Thy fortune may be greater then thy birth, +Sit downe _Æneas_, sit in _Didos_ place, +And if this be thy sonne as I suppose, +Here let him sit, be merrie louely child. + +_Æn._ This place beseemes me not, O pardon me. + +_Dido._ Ile haue it so, _Æneas_ be content. + +_Asca._ Madame, you shall be my mother. + +_Dido._ And so I will sweete child: be merrie man, +Heres to thy better fortune and good starres. + +_Æn._ In all humilitie I thanke your grace. + +_Dido._ Remember who thou art, speake like thy selfe, +Humilitie belongs to common groomes. + +_Æn._ And who so miserable as _Æneas_ is? + +_Dido._ Lyes it in _Didos_ hands to make thee blest, +Then be assured thou art not miserable. + +_Æn._ O _Priamus_, O _Troy_, oh _Hecuba_! + +_Dido._ May I entreate thee to discourse at large, +And truely to how _Troy_ was ouercome: +For many tales goe of that Cities fall, +And scarcely doe agree vpon one poynt: +Some say _Antenor_ did betray the towne, +Others report twas _Sinons_ periurie: +But all in this that _Troy_ is ouercome, +And _Priam_ dead, yet how we heare no newes. + +_Æn._ A wofull tale bids _Dido_ to vnfould, +Whose memorie like pale deaths stony mace, +Beates forth my senses from this troubled soule, +And makes _Æneas_ sinke at _Didos_ feete. + +_Dido._ What faints _Æneas_ to remember _Troy_? +In whose defence he fought so valiantly: +Looke vp and speake. + +_Æn._ Then speake _Æneas_ 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 mou'd too much with my sad tale. +The Grecian souldiers tired with ten yeares warre; +Began to crye, let vs vnto our ships, +_Troy_ is inuincible, 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 gaue, +Seeing the number of their men decreast, +And the remainder weake and out of heart, +Gaue vp their voyces to dislodge the Campe, +And so in troopes all marcht to _Tenedos_: +Where when they came, _Vlysses_ on the sand +Assayd with honey words to turne them backe: +And as he spoke to further his entent, +The windes did driue huge billowes to the shoare, +And heauen was darkned with tempestuous clowdes: +Then he alleag'd the Gods would haue them stay, +And prophecied _Troy_ should be ouercome: +And therewithall he calde false _Sinon_ forth, +A man compact of craft and periurie, +Whose ticing tongue was made of _Hermes_ pipe, +To force an hundred watchfull eyes to sleepe: +And him _Epeus_ hauing made the horse, +With sacrificing wreathes vpon his head, +_Vlysses_ sent to our vnhappie towne: +Who groueling in the mire of _Zanthus_ bankes, +His hands bound at his back, and both his eyes +Turnd vp to heauen as one resolu'd to dye, +Our Phrigian shepherd haled within the gates, +And brought vnto the Court of _Priamus_: +To whom he vsed action so pitifull, +Lookes so remorcefull, vowes so forcible, +As therewithall the old man ouercome, +Kist him, imbrast him, and vnloosde his bands, +And then, O _Dido_ pardon me. + +_Dido._ Nay leaue not here, resolue me of the rest. + +_Æn._ O th'inchaunting words of that base slaue, +Made him to thinke _Epeus_ pine-tree Horse +A sacrifize t'appease _Mineruas_ wrath: +The rather for that one _Laocoon_ +Breaking a speare vpon his hollow breast, +Was with two winged Serpents stung to death. +Whereat agast, we were commanded straight +With reuerence to draw it into _Troy_. +In which vnhappie 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 neuer entred, _Troy_ had stood. +But _Priamus_ impatient of delay, +Inforst a wide breach in that rampierd wall, +Which thousand battering Rams could neuer pierce, +And so came in this fatall instrument: +At whose accursed feete as ouerioyed, +We banquetted till ouercome 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 vnlockt the Horse, and suddenly +From out his entrailes, _Neoptolemus_ +Setting his speare vpon 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 vnto 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 vp 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, _Æneas_ flye, +_Troy_ is a fire, the Grecians haue the towne, + +_Dido._ O _Hector_ who weepes not to heare thy name? + +_Æn._ Yet flung I forth, and desperate of my life, +Ran in the thickest throngs, and with this sword +Sent many of their sauadge 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. + +_Dido._ Ah, how could poore _Æneas_ scape their hands? + +_Æn._ My mother _Venus_ iealous of my health, +Conuaid 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 _Ioues_ Altar finding _Priamus_, +About whose withered necke hung _Hecuba_, +Foulding his hand in hers, and ioyntly both +Beating their breasts and falling on the ground, +He with his faulchions poynt raisde vp at once, +And with _Megeras_ eyes stared in their face, +Threatning a thousand deaths at euery 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 liue? +O let me liue, great _Neoptolemus_, +Not mou'd at all, but smiling at his teares, +This butcher whil'st his hands were yet held vp, +Treading vpon his breast, strooke off his hands. + +_Dido._ O end _Æneas_, I can heare no more. + +_Æn._ 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 vp his bedred lims, +And would haue grappeld with _Achilles_ sonne, +Forgetting both his want of strength and hands, +Which he disdaining whiskt his sword about, +And with the wound thereof the King fell downe: +Then from the nauell to the throat at once, +He ript old _Priam_: at whose latter gaspe +_Ioues_ marble statue gan to bend the brow, +As lothing _Pirrhus_ for this wicked act: +Yet he vndaunted 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 yong boy in mine armes, and by the hand +Led faire _Creusa_ my beloued wife, +When thou _Achates_ with thy sword mad'st way, +And we were round inuiron'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 serue, of force we fled, +And as we went vnto our ships, thou knowest +We sawe _Cassandra_ sprauling in the streetes, +Whom _Aiax_ rauisht in _Dianas_ Fawne, +Her cheekes swolne with sighes, her haire all rent, +Whom I tooke vp to beare vnto our ships; +But suddenly the Grecians followed vs, +And I alas, was forst to let her lye. +Then got we to our ships, and being abourd, +_Polixena_ cryed out, _Æneas_ stay, +The Greekes pursue me, stay and take me in. +Moued 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. + +_Dido._ I dye with melting ruth, _Æneas_ leaue. + +_Anna._ O what became of aged _Hecuba_? + +_Iar._ How got _Æneas_ to the fleete againe? + +_Dido._ But how scapt _Helen_, she that causde this warre? + +_Æn._ _Achates_ speake, sorrow hath tired me quite. + +_Acha._ What happened to the Queene we cannot shewe, +We heare they led her captiue into Greece, +As for _Æneas_ he swomme quickly backe, +And _Helena_ betraied _Diiphobus_ +Her Louer, after _Alexander_ dyed, +And so was reconcil'd to _Menelaus_. + +_Dido._ O had that ticing strumpet nere been borne: +Troian, thy ruthfull tale hath made me sad: +Come let vs thinke vpon some pleasing sport, +To rid me from these melancholly thoughts. + +_Exeunt omnes._ + +_Enter Venus at another doore, and takes Ascanius by the sleeve._ + +_Venus._ Faire child stay thou with _Didos_ waiting maide, +Ile giue thee Sugar-almonds, sweete Conserues, +A siluer girdle, and a golden purse, +And this yong Prince shall be thy playfellow. + +_Asca._ Are you Queene _Didos_ sonne? + +_Cupid._ I, and my mother gaue me this fine bow. + +_Asca._ Shall I haue such a quiuer and a bow? + +_Venus._ Such bow, such quiuer, and such golden shafts, +Will _Dido_ giue 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. +Now is he fast asleepe, and in this groue +Amongst greene brakes Ile lay _Ascanius_, +And strewe him with sweete smelling Violets, +Blushing Roses, purple _Hyacinthe_: +These milke white Doues shall be his Centronels: +Who if that any seeke to doe him hurt, +Will quickly flye to _Citheidas_ 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 vpon _Æneas_ loue: +And by that meanes repaire his broken ships, +Victuall his Souldiers, giue him wealthie gifts, +And he at last depart to _Italy_, +Or els in _Carthage_ make his kingly throne. + +_Cupid._ I will faire mother, and so play my part, +As euery touch shall wound Queene _Didos_ heart. + +_Venus._ 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 leaues, all shall be still, +And nothing interrupt thy quiet sleepe, +Till I returne and take thee hence againe. _Exit._ + + + + +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._ + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Tragedy of Dido Queene of Carthage +by Christopher Marlowe + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DIDO QUEENE OF CARTHAGE *** + +***** This file should be named 16169-0.txt or 16169-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/1/6/16169/ + +Produced by Clare Boothby, Clare Elliott and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/16169-0.zip b/16169-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4ca9c8a --- /dev/null +++ b/16169-0.zip diff --git a/16169-8.txt b/16169-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..94d90c9 --- /dev/null +++ b/16169-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2749 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Tragedy of Dido Queene of Carthage +by Christopher Marlowe + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Tragedy of Dido Queene of Carthage + +Author: Christopher Marlowe + +Release Date: July 1, 2005 [EBook #16169] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DIDO QUEENE OF CARTHAGE *** + + + + +Produced by Clare Boothby, Clare Elliott and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +The Tudor Facsimile Texts + +The Tragedy of +Dido Queen of Carthage + +Written by +CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE and THOMAS NASH + +1594 + +_Date of this the earliest known edition_.... 1594 + +[_Bodleian_] + +_Reproduced in Facsimile_.... 1914 + + + + +The Tudor Facsimile Texts + +_Under the Supervision and Editorship of_ +JOHN S. FARMER + +The Tragedy of +Dido Queen of Carthage + +Written by +CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE and THOMAS NASH + +1594 + +_Issued for Subscribers by the Editor of_ + +THE TUDOR FACSIMILE TEXTS + +MCMXIV + + + + +The Tragedy of +Dido Queen of Carthage + +Written by CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE and THOMAS NASH + +1594 + + +_This play is facsimiled from the Bodley copy. Other examples +(says Sir Sidney Lee, but unrecorded by Greg) are at Bridgewater +House and at Chatsworth; the Devonshire Collection of Plays has +recently been disposed of to an American collector_. + +_For other and bibliographical details see D.N.B. I have +included in this facsimile the page of manuscript in the Bodley +example inasmuch as it contains matter of interest to the +student._ + +_The reproduction from the original was made by The Clarendon +Press, Oxford_. + + _JOHN S. FARMER_. + + + +[Transcriber's Note: The following paragraphs have been +transcribed from a handwritten page. Some text is illegible, and +this has been marked with asterisks where appropriate.] + +The tragedy of _Dido_ is one of the scarcest plays in the English +language. There are but two copies known to be extant; in the +possession of D^r Wright and M^r Reed. + +M^r Warton speaks in his _Hist. of Eng. Poet_ (III. p. 435) of an +Elegy being prefixed to it on the death of Marlowe; but no such +is found in either of those copies. In answer to my inquiries on +this subject he informed me by letter, [crossed-out text] that a +copy of this play was in Osborne's catalogue in the year 1754, +that he then saw it in his shop (together with several of M^r +Oldys's books that Osborne had purchased), + that the elegy in +question--"on Marlowe's untimely death" was inserted immediately +after the title page; that it mentioned a play of Marlowe's +entitled _The Duke of Guise_ and four others; but whether +particularly by _name_, he could not recollect. Unluckily he did +not purchase this rare piece, + it is now God knows where. + +Bishop Tanner likewise mentions this elegy in so particular a +manner that he must have seen it. "Marlovius (Christopherus), +quondam in academia Cantabrigiensi musarum alumnus; postea actor +scenicus; deinde poeta dramaticus tragicus, paucis inferior +Scripsit plurimas tragedias, sc. Tamerlane.-Tragedie of Dido +Queen of Carthage. Pr. Come gentle Ganymed. Hanc perfecit + +edidit Tho. Nash Lond. 1594. 4^to.--Petrarius in prfatione ad +Secundam partem Herois et Leandri multa in Marlovii +commendationem adfert; hoc etiam facit Tho. Nash in _Carmine +Elegiaco Tragidi Didonis prfiso in obitum Christop. Marlovii_, +ubi quatuor ejus tragidiarum mentionem facit, nec non et alterius +_de duce Guisio_." _Bib. Britan._ 1740. + +I suspect M^r Warton had no other authority than this for saying +that this play was left imperfect by Marlowe, and completed + +published by Nashe; for it does not appear from the title page +that it was not written in conjunction by him + Marlowe in the +lifetime of the former. Perhaps Nashe's Elegy might ascertain +this point. Tanner had, I believe, no authority but Philipses, +for calling Marlowe an actor. + +There was an old Latin play on the subject of Dido, written by +John Rightwise and played before Cardinal Wolsey + again before +Queen Elizabeth in 1564. There is also another Latin play on this +subject _Dido_, tragedia nova so quatuor pri*ibus *** +**************** Virgilii disampla Antwerp ed, 1559. + + + + +THE +Tragedie of Dido +_Queene of Carthage:_ + +Played by the Children of her +_Maiesties Chappell._ + +Written by Christopher Marlowe, and +_Thomas Nash. Gent._ + +Actors + +_Iupiter._ _Ascanius._ +_Ganimed._ _Dido._ +_Venus._ _Anna._ +_Cupid._ _Achates._ +_Iuno._ _Ilioneus._ +_Mercurie._ _Iarbas._ +_Hermes._ _Cloanthes._ +_neas._ _Sergestus._ + +[Illustration: (Decorative) "BY PEACE PLENTY, BY WISDOME PEACE"] + +AT LONDON, + +Printed, by the Widdowe _Orwin_, for _Thomas Woodcocke_, and +are to be solde at his shop, in Paules Church-yeard, at +the signe of the blacke Beare. 1594. + + + +[Illustration: (Decorative)] + + + + +The Tragedie of _Dido_ Queene +_of Carthage._ + + +_Here the Curtaines draw, there is discovered_ Iupiter _dandling_ +Ganimed _upon his knee, and_ Mercury _lying asleepe_. + +_Iup._ Come gentle _Ganimed_ and play with me, +I loue thee well, say _Iuno_ what she will. + +_Gan._ I am much better for your worthles loue, +That will not shield me from her shrewith 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. + +_Iup._ What? dares she strike the darling of my thoughts? +By _Saturnes_ soule, and this earth threatning aire, +That shaken thrise, makes Natures buildings quake, +I vow, if she but once frowne on thee more, +To hang her meteor like twixt heauen and earth, +And bind her hand and foote with golden cordes, +As once I did for harming _Hercules_. + +_Gan._ 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 _Iupiter_, 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. + +_Iup._ 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, +Haue oft driuen backe the horses of the night. +When as they would haue 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 heauen and earth the bounds of thy delight? +_Vulcan_ shall daunce to make thee laughing sport, +And my nine Daughters sing when thou art sad, +From _Iunos_ bird Ile pluck her spotted pride, +To make thee fannes wherewith to coole thy face, +And _Venus_ Swannes shall shed their siluer 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, +Doe thou but say their colour pleaseth me: +Hold here my little loue these linked gems, +My _Iuno_ ware vpon her marriage day, +Put thou about thy necke my owne sweet heart, +And tricke thy armes and shoulders with my theft. + +_Gan._ I would haue a iewell for mine eare, +And a fine brouch to put in my hat, +And then Ile hugge with you an hundred times. + +_Iup._ And shall haue _Ganimed_, if thou wilt be my loue. + +_Enter Venus._ + +_Venus._ I this is it, you can sit toying there, +And playing with that female wanton boy, +Whiles my _neas_ wanders on the Seas, +And rests a pray to euery billowes pride. +_Iuno_, false _Iuno_ in her Chariots pompe, +Drawne through the heauens by Steedes of _Boreas_ brood, +Made _Hebe_ to direct her ayrie wheeles +Into the windie countrie of the clowdes, +Where finding _olus_ 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 _olia_ to be vp in armes: +Poore _Troy_ must now be sackt vpon the Sea, +And _Neptunes_ waues be enuious men of warre, +_Epeus_ horse to _tnas_ hill transformd, +Prepared stands to wracke their woodden walles, +And _olus_ 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 _Astrus_ tents. +What shall I doe to saue thee my sweet boy? +When as the waues doe threat our Chrystall world, +And _Proteus_ raising hils of flouds on high, +Entends ere long to sport him in the skie. +False _Iupiter_, rewardst thou vertue so? +What? is not pietie exempt from woe? +Then dye _neas_ in thine innocence, +Since that religion hath no recompence. + +_Iup._ Content thee _Cytherea_ in thy care, +Since thy _neas_ 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 aduance her head, +And flourish once againe that erst was dead: +But bright _Ascanius_ beauties better worke, +Who with the Sunne deuides one radiant shape, +Shall build his throne amidst those starrie towers, +That earth-borne _Atlas_ groning vnderprops: +No bounds but heauen shall bound his Emperie, +Whose azured gates enchased with his name, +Shall make the morning halt her gray vprise, +To feede her eyes with his engrauen fame. +Thus in stoute _Hectors_ race three hundred yeares, +The Romane Scepter royall shall remaine, +Till that a Princesse priest conceau'd by _Mars_, +Shall yeeld to dignitie a dubble birth, +Who will eternish _Troy_ in their attempts. + +_Venus._ How may I credite these thy flattering termes, +When yet both sea and sands beset their ships, +And _Ph[oe]bus_ as in stygian pooles, refraines +To taint his tresses in the Tyrrhen maine? + +_Iup._ 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 Iupiter cum Ganimed._ + +_Venus._ Disquiet Seas lay downe your swelling lookes, +And court _neas_ with your calmie cheere, +Whose beautious burden well might make you proude, +Had not the heauens conceau'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 _Cimodo_, +To succour him in this extremitie. + +_Enter neas with Ascanius, 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 ioyes: +Great _Iupiter_, still honourd maist thou be, +For this so friendly ayde in time of neede. +Here in this bush disguised will I stand, +Whiles my _neas_ spends himselfe in plaints, +And heauen and earth with his vnrest acquaints. + +_n._ You sonnes of care, companions of my course, +_Priams_ misfortune followes vs by sea, +And _Helens_ rape doth haunt thee at the heeles. +How many dangers haue we ouer past? +Both barking _Scilla_, and the sounding Rocks, +The _Cyclops_ shelues, and grim _Ceranias_ seate +Haue you oregone, and yet remaine aliue! +Pluck vp your hearts, since fate still rests our friend, +And chaunging heauens may those good daies returne, +Which _Pergama_ did vaunt in all her pride. + +_Acha._ Braue Prince of _Troy_, thou onely art our God, +That by thy vertues freest vs from annoy, +And makes our hopes suruiue to cunning ioyes: +Doe thou but smile, and clowdie heauen will cleare, +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 aire, +To make vs liue vnto our former heate, +And euery beast the forrest doth send forth, +Bequeath her young ones to our scanted foode. + +_Asca._ Father I faint, good father giue me meate. + +_n._ Alas sweet boy, thou must be still a while, +Till we haue fire to dresse the meate we kild: +Gentle _Achates_, reach the Tinder boxe, +That we may make a fire to warme vs with, +And rost our new found victuals on this shoare. + +_Venus._ See what strange arts necessitie findes out, +How neere my sweet _neas_ art thou driuen? + +_n._ Hold, take this candle and goe light a fire, +You shall haue leaues 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_ roaue abroad, +To know what coast the winde hath driuen vs on, +Or whether men or beasts inhabite it. + +_Acha._ The ayre is pleasant, and the soyle most fit +For Cities, and societies supports: +Yet much I maruell that I cannot finde, +No steps of men imprinted in the earth. + +_Venus._ 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? +Hauing a quiuer girded to her side, +And cloathed in a spotted Leopards skin. + +_n._ 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, +Liue happie in the height of all content, +And lighten our extreames with this one boone, +As to instruct us vnder what good heauen +We breathe as now, and what this world is calde, +On which by tempests furie we are cast, +Tell vs, O tell vs that are ignorant, +And this right hand shall make thy Altars crack +With mountaine heapes of milke white Sacrifize. + +_Venus._ Such honour, stranger, doe I not affect: +It is the vse for Turen maides to weare +Their bowe and quiuer in this modest sort, +And suite themselues in purple for the nonce, +That they may trip more lightly ore the lawndes, +And ouertake the tusked Bore in chase. +But for the land whereof thou doest enquire, +It is the punick kingdome rich and strong, +Adioyning 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? + +_n._ Of _Troy_ am I, _neas_ is my name, +Who driuen by warre from forth my natiue world, +Put sailes to sea to seeke out _Italy_; +And my diuine descent from sceptred _Iove_, +With twise twelue Phrigian ships I plowed the deepe, +And made that way my mother _Venus_ led: +But of them all scarce seuen doe anchor safe, +And they so wrackt and weltred by the waues, +As euery tide tilts twixt their oken sides: +And all of them vnburdened of their loade, +Are ballassed with billowes watrie weight. +But haples I, God wot, poore and vnknowne, +Doe trace these Libian deserts all despisde, +Exild forth _Europe_ and wide _Asia_ both, +And haue not any couerture but heauen. + +_Venus._ Fortune hath fauord thee what ere thou be, +In sending thee vnto this curteous Coast: +A Gods name on and hast thee to the Court, +Where _Dido_ will receiue ye with her smiles: +And for thy ships which thou supposest lost, +Not one of them hath perisht in the storme, +But are ariued safe not farre from hence: +And so I leaue thee to thy fortunes lot, +Wishing good lucke vnto thy wandring steps. _Exit_. + +_n._ _Achates_, tis my mother that is fled, +I know her by the mouings of her feete: +Stay gentle _Venus_, flye not from thy sonne, +Too cruell, why wilt thou forsake me thus? +Or in these shades deceiu'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 leau'st me here alone, +To dull the ayre with my discoursiue moane. _Exit_. + +_Enter Illioneus, and Cloanthes._ + +_Illio._ Follow ye Troians, follow this braue Lord, +And plaine to him the summe of your distresse. + +_Iar._ Why, what are you, or wherefore doe you sewe? + +_Illio._ Wretches of _Troy_, enuied of the windes, +That craue such fauour at your honors feete, +As poore distressed miserie may pleade: +Saue, saue, O saue our ships from cruell fire, +That doe complaine the wounds of thousand waues, +And spare our liues whom euery 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 vnweaponed thoughts, +Whose fading weale of victorie forsooke, +Forbids all hope to harbour neere our hearts. + +_Iar._ But tell me Troians, Troians if you be, +Vnto what fruitfull quarters were ye bound, +Before that _Boreas_ buckled with your sailes? + +_Cloan._ There is a place _Hesperia_ term'd by vs, +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 vs escapt to land, +The rest we feare are foulded in the flouds. + +_Iar._ Braue men at armes, abandon fruitles feares, +Since Carthage knowes to entertaine distresse. + +_Serg._ I but the barbarous sort doe threat our ships, +And will not let vs lodge vpon the sands: +In multitudes they swarme vnto the shoare, +And from the first earth interdict our feete. + +_Iar._ My selfe will see they shall not trouble ye, +Your men and you shall banquet in our Court, +And euery Troian be as welcome here, +As _Iupiter_ to sillie _Vausis_ house: +Come in with me, Ile bring you to my Queene, +Who shall confirme my words with further deedes. + +_Serg._ Thankes gentle Lord for such vnlookt for grace, +Might we but once more see _neas_ face, +Then would we hope to quite such friendly turnes, +As shall surpasse the wonder of our speech. + + + + +Actus 2. + + +_Enter neas, Achates, and Ascanius._ + +_n._ Where am I now? these should be Carthage walles. + +_Acha._ Why stands my sweete _neas_ thus amazde? + +_n._ 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. +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. + +_Ach._ And in this humor is _Achates_ to, +I cannot choose but fall vpon my knees, +And kisse his hand: O where is _Hecuba_, +Here she was wont to sit, but sauing ayre +Is nothing here, and what is this but stone? + +_n._ O yet this stone doth make _neas_ weepe, +And would my prayers (as _Pigmalions_ did) +Could giue it life, that vnder his conduct +We might saile backe to _Troy_ and be reuengde +On these hard harted Grecians; which reioyce +That nothing now is left of _Priamus_: +O _Priamus_ is left and this is he, +Come, come abourd, pursue the hatefull Greekes. + +_Acha._ What means _neas_? + +_n._ _Achates_ though mine eyes say this is stone, +Yet thinkes my minde that this is _Priamus_: +And when my grieued heart sighes and sayes no, +Then would it leape out to giue _Priam_ life: +O were I not at all so thou mightst be. +_Achates_, see King _Priam_ wags his hand, +He is aliue, _Troy_ is not ouercome. + +_Ach._ Thy mind _neas_ that would haue it so +Deludes thy eye sight, _Priamus_ is dead. + +_n._ Ah _Troy_ is sackt, and _Priamus_ is dead, +And why should poore _neas_ be aliue? + +_Asca._ Sweete father leaue to weepe, this is not he: +For were it _Priam_ he would smile on me. + +_Acha._ _neas_ see here come the Citizens, +Leaue to lament lest they laugh at our feares. + +_Enter Cloanthus, Sergestus, Illioneus._ + +_n._ Lords of this towne, or whatsoeuer stile +Belongs vnto your name, vouchsafe of ruth +To tell vs who inhabits this faire towne, +What kind of people, and who gouernes them: +For we are strangers driuen on this shore, +And scarcely know within what Clime we are. + +_Illio._ I heare _neas_ voyce, but see him not, +For none of these can be our Generall. + +_Acha._ Like _Illioneus_ speakes this Noble man, +But _Illioneus_ goes not in such robes. + +_Serg._ You are _Achates_, or I deciu'd. + +_Acha._ _neas_ see _Sergestus_ or his ghost. + +_Illio._ He meanes _neas_, let vs kisse his feete. + +_Cloan._ It is our Captaine, see _Ascanius_. + +_Serg._ Liue long _neas_ and _Ascanius_. + +_n._ _Achates_, speake, for I am ouerioyed. + +_Acha._ O _Illioneus_, art thou yet aliue? + +_Illio._ Blest be the time I see _Achates_ face. + +_Cloan._ Why turnes _neas_ from his trustie friends? + +_n._ _Sergestus_, _Illioneus_ and the rest, +Your sight amazde me, O what destinies +Haue brought my sweete companions in such plight? +O tell me, for I long to be resolu'd. + +_Illio._ Louely _neas_, these are Carthage walles, +And here Queene _Dido_ weares th'imperiall Crowne, +Who for _Troyes_ sake hath entertaind vs all, +And clad vs in these wealthie robes we weare. +Oft hath she askt vs vnder whom we seru'd, +And when we told her she would weepe for griefe, +Thinking the sea had swallowed vp thy ships, +And now she sees thee how will she reioyce? + +_Serg._ See where her seruitors passe through the hall +Bearing a banket, _Dido_ is not farre. + +_Illio._ Looke where she comes: _neas_ viewd her well. + +_n._ Well may I view her, but she sees not me. + +_Enter Dido and her traine._ + +_Dido._ What stranger art thou that doest eye me thus? + +_n._ Sometime I was a Troian mightie Queene: +But _Troy_ is not, what shall I say I am? + +_Illio._ Renowmed _Dido_, tis our Generall: warlike _neas_. + +_Dido._ Warlike _neas_, and in these base robes? +Goe fetch the garment which _Sicheus_ ware: +Braue Prince, welcome to Carthage and to me, +Both happie that _neas_ is our guest: +Sit in this chaire and banquet with a Queene, +_neas_ is _neas_, were he clad +In weedes as bad as euer _Irus_ ware. + +_n._ This is no seate for one thats comfortles, +May it please your grace to let _neas_ waite: +For though my birth be great, my fortunes meane, +Too meane to be companion to a Queene. + +_Dido._ Thy fortune may be greater then thy birth, +Sit downe _neas_, sit in _Didos_ place, +And if this be thy sonne as I suppose, +Here let him sit, be merrie louely child. + +_n._ This place beseemes me not, O pardon me. + +_Dido._ Ile haue it so, _neas_ be content. + +_Asca._ Madame, you shall be my mother. + +_Dido._ And so I will sweete child: be merrie man, +Heres to thy better fortune and good starres. + +_n._ In all humilitie I thanke your grace. + +_Dido._ Remember who thou art, speake like thy selfe, +Humilitie belongs to common groomes. + +_n._ And who so miserable as _neas_ is? + +_Dido._ Lyes it in _Didos_ hands to make thee blest, +Then be assured thou art not miserable. + +_n._ O _Priamus_, O _Troy_, oh _Hecuba_! + +_Dido._ May I entreate thee to discourse at large, +And truely to how _Troy_ was ouercome: +For many tales goe of that Cities fall, +And scarcely doe agree vpon one poynt: +Some say _Antenor_ did betray the towne, +Others report twas _Sinons_ periurie: +But all in this that _Troy_ is ouercome, +And _Priam_ dead, yet how we heare no newes. + +_n._ A wofull tale bids _Dido_ to vnfould, +Whose memorie like pale deaths stony mace, +Beates forth my senses from this troubled soule, +And makes _neas_ sinke at _Didos_ feete. + +_Dido._ What faints _neas_ to remember _Troy_? +In whose defence he fought so valiantly: +Looke vp and speake. + +_n._ Then speake _neas_ 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 mou'd too much with my sad tale. +The Grecian souldiers tired with ten yeares warre; +Began to crye, let vs vnto our ships, +_Troy_ is inuincible, 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 gaue, +Seeing the number of their men decreast, +And the remainder weake and out of heart, +Gaue vp their voyces to dislodge the Campe, +And so in troopes all marcht to _Tenedos_: +Where when they came, _Vlysses_ on the sand +Assayd with honey words to turne them backe: +And as he spoke to further his entent, +The windes did driue huge billowes to the shoare, +And heauen was darkned with tempestuous clowdes: +Then he alleag'd the Gods would haue them stay, +And prophecied _Troy_ should be ouercome: +And therewithall he calde false _Sinon_ forth, +A man compact of craft and periurie, +Whose ticing tongue was made of _Hermes_ pipe, +To force an hundred watchfull eyes to sleepe: +And him _Epeus_ hauing made the horse, +With sacrificing wreathes vpon his head, +_Vlysses_ sent to our vnhappie towne: +Who groueling in the mire of _Zanthus_ bankes, +His hands bound at his back, and both his eyes +Turnd vp to heauen as one resolu'd to dye, +Our Phrigian shepherd haled within the gates, +And brought vnto the Court of _Priamus_: +To whom he vsed action so pitifull, +Lookes so remorcefull, vowes so forcible, +As therewithall the old man ouercome, +Kist him, imbrast him, and vnloosde his bands, +And then, O _Dido_ pardon me. + +_Dido._ Nay leaue not here, resolue me of the rest. + +_n._ O th'inchaunting words of that base slaue, +Made him to thinke _Epeus_ pine-tree Horse +A sacrifize t'appease _Mineruas_ wrath: +The rather for that one _Laocoon_ +Breaking a speare vpon his hollow breast, +Was with two winged Serpents stung to death. +Whereat agast, we were commanded straight +With reuerence to draw it into _Troy_. +In which vnhappie 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 neuer entred, _Troy_ had stood. +But _Priamus_ impatient of delay, +Inforst a wide breach in that rampierd wall, +Which thousand battering Rams could neuer pierce, +And so came in this fatall instrument: +At whose accursed feete as ouerioyed, +We banquetted till ouercome 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 vnlockt the Horse, and suddenly +From out his entrailes, _Neoptolemus_ +Setting his speare vpon 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 vnto 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 vp 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, _neas_ flye, +_Troy_ is a fire, the Grecians haue the towne, + +_Dido._ O _Hector_ who weepes not to heare thy name? + +_n._ Yet flung I forth, and desperate of my life, +Ran in the thickest throngs, and with this sword +Sent many of their sauadge 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. + +_Dido._ Ah, how could poore _neas_ scape their hands? + +_n._ My mother _Venus_ iealous of my health, +Conuaid 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 _Ioues_ Altar finding _Priamus_, +About whose withered necke hung _Hecuba_, +Foulding his hand in hers, and ioyntly both +Beating their breasts and falling on the ground, +He with his faulchions poynt raisde vp at once, +And with _Megeras_ eyes stared in their face, +Threatning a thousand deaths at euery 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 liue? +O let me liue, great _Neoptolemus_, +Not mou'd at all, but smiling at his teares, +This butcher whil'st his hands were yet held vp, +Treading vpon his breast, strooke off his hands. + +_Dido._ O end _neas_, I can heare no more. + +_n._ 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 vp his bedred lims, +And would haue grappeld with _Achilles_ sonne, +Forgetting both his want of strength and hands, +Which he disdaining whiskt his sword about, +And with the wound thereof the King fell downe: +Then from the nauell to the throat at once, +He ript old _Priam_: at whose latter gaspe +_Ioues_ marble statue gan to bend the brow, +As lothing _Pirrhus_ for this wicked act: +Yet he vndaunted 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 yong boy in mine armes, and by the hand +Led faire _Creusa_ my beloued wife, +When thou _Achates_ with thy sword mad'st way, +And we were round inuiron'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 serue, of force we fled, +And as we went vnto our ships, thou knowest +We sawe _Cassandra_ sprauling in the streetes, +Whom _Aiax_ rauisht in _Dianas_ Fawne, +Her cheekes swolne with sighes, her haire all rent, +Whom I tooke vp to beare vnto our ships; +But suddenly the Grecians followed vs, +And I alas, was forst to let her lye. +Then got we to our ships, and being abourd, +_Polixena_ cryed out, _neas_ stay, +The Greekes pursue me, stay and take me in. +Moued 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. + +_Dido._ I dye with melting ruth, _neas_ leaue. + +_Anna._ O what became of aged _Hecuba_? + +_Iar._ How got _neas_ to the fleete againe? + +_Dido._ But how scapt _Helen_, she that causde this warre? + +_n._ _Achates_ speake, sorrow hath tired me quite. + +_Acha._ What happened to the Queene we cannot shewe, +We heare they led her captiue into Greece, +As for _neas_ he swomme quickly backe, +And _Helena_ betraied _Diiphobus_ +Her Louer, after _Alexander_ dyed, +And so was reconcil'd to _Menelaus_. + +_Dido._ O had that ticing strumpet nere been borne: +Troian, thy ruthfull tale hath made me sad: +Come let vs thinke vpon some pleasing sport, +To rid me from these melancholly thoughts. + +_Exeunt omnes._ + +_Enter Venus at another doore, and takes Ascanius by the sleeve._ + +_Venus._ Faire child stay thou with _Didos_ waiting maide, +Ile giue thee Sugar-almonds, sweete Conserues, +A siluer girdle, and a golden purse, +And this yong Prince shall be thy playfellow. + +_Asca._ Are you Queene _Didos_ sonne? + +_Cupid._ I, and my mother gaue me this fine bow. + +_Asca._ Shall I haue such a quiuer and a bow? + +_Venus._ Such bow, such quiuer, and such golden shafts, +Will _Dido_ giue 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. +Now is he fast asleepe, and in this groue +Amongst greene brakes Ile lay _Ascanius_, +And strewe him with sweete smelling Violets, +Blushing Roses, purple _Hyacinthe_: +These milke white Doues shall be his Centronels: +Who if that any seeke to doe him hurt, +Will quickly flye to _Citheidas_ 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 vpon _neas_ loue: +And by that meanes repaire his broken ships, +Victuall his Souldiers, giue him wealthie gifts, +And he at last depart to _Italy_, +Or els in _Carthage_ make his kingly throne. + +_Cupid._ I will faire mother, and so play my part, +As euery touch shall wound Queene _Didos_ heart. + +_Venus._ 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 leaues, all shall be still, +And nothing interrupt thy quiet sleepe, +Till I returne and take thee hence againe. _Exit._ + + + + +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 _neas_ 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 _neas_ 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 _neas_ worthie _Didos_ loue? + +_Anna._ O sister, were you Empresse of the world, +_neas_ 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 _neas_, 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 _neas_ 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 _neas, 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 _neas_ shewe your maiestie. + +_Dido._ _neas_ art thou there? + +_n._ 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. + +_n._ 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._ _neas_, 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 _neas_ 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 _neas_ may but stay with me. + +_n._ Wherefore would _Dido_ haue _neas_ stay? + +_Dido._ To warre against my bordering enemies: +_neas_, thinke not _Dido_ is in loue: +For if that any man could conquer me, +I had been wedded ere _neas_ 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. + +_n._ 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 _tolia_. + +_Cloan._ And I in _Athens_ with this gentleman, +Vnlesse I be deceiu'd disputed once. + +_Dido._ But speake _neas_, know you none of these? + +_n._ 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. + +_n._ 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: _neas_ 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, _neas_ 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 _neas_, 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, neas, Anna, Iarbus, Achates, and followers._ + +_Dido._ _neas_, 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. + +_n._ 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: +_neas_, 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? + +_n._ 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. + +_n._ 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. + +_n._ 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._ _neas_, 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 _neas_, 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 neas and Dido in the Caue at seuerall times._ + +_Dido._ _neas._ + +_n._ _Dido._ + +_Dido._ Tell me deare loue, how found you out this Caue? + +_n._ 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. + +_n._ 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. + +_n._ It is not ought _neas_ may achieue? + +_Dido._ _neas_ no, although his eyes doe pearce. + +_n._ What, hath _Iarbus_ angred her in ought? +And will she be auenged on his life? + +_Dido._ Not angred me, except in angring thee. + +_n._ 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: +_neas_, O _neas_, quench these flames. + +_n._ 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: +_neas_, thou art he, what did I say? +Something it was that now I haue forgot. + +_n._ What meanes faire _Dido_ by this doubtfull speech? + +_Dido._ Nay, nothing, but _neas_ loues me not. + +_n._ _neas_ 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. + +_n._ 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 _neas_ 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? + +_n._ The ayre is cleere, and Southerne windes are whist, +Come _Dido_, let vs hasten to the towne, +Since gloomie _olus_ doth cease to frowne. + +_Dido._ _Achates_ and _Ascanius_, well met. + +_n._ 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 _neas_ in the vgly Caue. + +_Dido._ I see _neas_ 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 neas alone._ + +_n._ _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, _neas_ 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, _neas_ calles. + +_Enter Achates, Cloanthus, Sergestus, and Illioneus._ + +_Acha._ What willes our Lord, or wherefore did he call? + +_n._ 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 _neas_ 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 _neas_ in her armes. + +_Cloan._ To _Italy_, sweete friends to _Italy_, +We will not stay a minute longer here. + +_n._ 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, _neas_, 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 _neas_, finde out _Italy_. _Exit._ + +_Enter Dido and Anna._ + +_Dido._ O _Anna_, runne vnto the water side, +They say _neas_ 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 neas, Achates, Illioneus, and Sergestus._ + +_Anna._ Twas time to runne, _neas_ had been gone, +The sailes were hoysing vp, and he abourd. + +_Dido._ Is this thy loue to me? + +_n._ 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 _neas_ goe abourd with vs. + +_Dido._ Get you abourd, _neas_ meanes to stay. + +_n._ The sea is rough, the windes blow to the shoare. + +_Dido._ O false _neas_, now the sea is rough, +But when you were abourd twas calme enough, +Thou and _Achates_ ment to saile away. + +_n._ Hath not the Carthage Queene mine onely sonne? +Thinkes _Dido_ I will goe and leaue him here? + +_Dido._ _neas_ 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 _neas_ for this crime. + +_n._ This kisse shall be faire _Didos_ punishment. + +_Dido._ O how a Crowne becomes _neas_ head! +Stay here _neas_, and commaund as King. + +_n._ 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 _neas_. + +_Dido._ O keepe them still, and let me gaze my fill: +Now lookes _neas_ 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 _neas_ 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. + +_n._ 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 _neas_ seekes, +Lets see what tempests can anoy me now. + +_Dido._ Not all the world can take thee from mine armes, +_neas_ 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 +_neas_ ride as Carthaginian King. + +_Acha._ _neas_ for his parentage deserues +As large a kingdome as is _Libia_. + +_n._ 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. + +_n._ 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 _neas_ 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, +_neas_ 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 _neas_ 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 _neas_ 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 _neas_ tackling, oares and sailes. + +_Dido._ Are these the sailes that in despight of me, +Packt with the windes to beare _neas_ 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 _neas_ 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 _neas_ loue, +Thou wouldst haue leapt from out the Sailers hands, +And told me that _neas_ 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 _neas_ 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 neas with a paper in his hand, drawing the platforme of the +citie, with him Achates, Cloanthus, and Illieneus._ + +_n._ Triumph my mates, our trauels are at end, +Here will _neas_ 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 c[=o]taine? + +_n._ Not past foure thousand paces at the most. + +_Illio._ But what shall it be calde, _Troy_ as before? + +_n._ That haue I not determinde with my selfe. + +_Cloan._ Let it be term'd _nea_ by your name. + +_Serg._ Rather _Ascania_ by your little sonne. + +_n._ Nay, I will haue it calde _Anchisaon_, +Of my old fathers name. + +_Enter Hermes with Ascanius._ + +_Hermes._ _neas_ stay, _Ioues_ Herald bids thee stay. + +_n._ 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. + +_n._ 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. + +_n._ _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_. + +_n._ 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 _neas_, sad, what meanes these dumpes? + +_n._ _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. + +_n._ 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. + +_n._ 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 neas 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 neas._ + +_Dido._ I feare I sawe _neas_ 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. +_neas_, 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. + +_n._ O pardon me, if I resolue thee why: +_neas_ 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 _neas_ will not leaue his loue. + +_n._ 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 _neas_ heart. + +_n._ 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 _neas_ stay, +I dye, if my _neas_ say farewell. + +_n._ 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 _neas_, 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 _neas_, tis for griefe of thee: +Say thou wilt stay in _Carthage_ with my Queene, +And _Didos_ beautie will returne againe: +_neas_, 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 _neas_, must thou say, +Then let me goe, and neuer say farewell. + +_n._ O Queene of _Carthage_, wert thou vgly blacke, +_neas_ 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 _neas_ from mine armes? +O no, the Gods wey not what Louers doe, +It is _neas_ calles _neas_ hence, +And wofull _Dido_ by these blubbred cheekes, +By this right hand, and by our spousall rites, +Desires _neas_ 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._ + +_n. 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 _neas_ in his face: +Now if thou goest, what canst thou leaue behind, +But rather will augment then ease my woe? + +_n._ 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 _neas_? ah hees gone hees gone! + +_Anna._ What meanes my sister thus to raue and crye? + +_Dido._ O _Anna_, my _neas_ 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 _neas_. + +_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, _neas_ was abourd, +And spying me, hoyst vp the sailes amaine: +But I cride out, _neas_, false _neas_ 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, _neas_ stay, +_Dido_, faire _Dido_ wils _neas_ 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 _neas_ 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 _neas_, _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 _neas_, 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 _neas_ 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 _neas_, 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 _neas_. + +_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._ + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Tragedy of Dido Queene of Carthage +by Christopher Marlowe + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DIDO QUEENE OF CARTHAGE *** + +***** This file should be named 16169-8.txt or 16169-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/1/6/16169/ + +Produced by Clare Boothby, Clare Elliott and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/16169-8.zip b/16169-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..34fc003 --- /dev/null +++ b/16169-8.zip diff --git a/16169.txt b/16169.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..af8fd68 --- /dev/null +++ b/16169.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2749 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Tragedy of Dido Queene of Carthage +by Christopher Marlowe + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Tragedy of Dido Queene of Carthage + +Author: Christopher Marlowe + +Release Date: July 1, 2005 [EBook #16169] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DIDO QUEENE OF CARTHAGE *** + + + + +Produced by Clare Boothby, Clare Elliott and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +The Tudor Facsimile Texts + +The Tragedy of +Dido Queen of Carthage + +Written by +CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE and THOMAS NASH + +1594 + +_Date of this the earliest known edition_.... 1594 + +[_Bodleian_] + +_Reproduced in Facsimile_.... 1914 + + + + +The Tudor Facsimile Texts + +_Under the Supervision and Editorship of_ +JOHN S. FARMER + +The Tragedy of +Dido Queen of Carthage + +Written by +CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE and THOMAS NASH + +1594 + +_Issued for Subscribers by the Editor of_ + +THE TUDOR FACSIMILE TEXTS + +MCMXIV + + + + +The Tragedy of +Dido Queen of Carthage + +Written by CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE and THOMAS NASH + +1594 + + +_This play is facsimiled from the Bodley copy. Other examples +(says Sir Sidney Lee, but unrecorded by Greg) are at Bridgewater +House and at Chatsworth; the Devonshire Collection of Plays has +recently been disposed of to an American collector_. + +_For other and bibliographical details see D.N.B. I have +included in this facsimile the page of manuscript in the Bodley +example inasmuch as it contains matter of interest to the +student._ + +_The reproduction from the original was made by The Clarendon +Press, Oxford_. + + _JOHN S. FARMER_. + + + +[Transcriber's Note: The following paragraphs have been +transcribed from a handwritten page. Some text is illegible, and +this has been marked with asterisks where appropriate.] + +The tragedy of _Dido_ is one of the scarcest plays in the English +language. There are but two copies known to be extant; in the +possession of D^r Wright and M^r Reed. + +M^r Warton speaks in his _Hist. of Eng. Poet_ (III. p. 435) of an +Elegy being prefixed to it on the death of Marlowe; but no such +is found in either of those copies. In answer to my inquiries on +this subject he informed me by letter, [crossed-out text] that a +copy of this play was in Osborne's catalogue in the year 1754, +that he then saw it in his shop (together with several of M^r +Oldys's books that Osborne had purchased), + that the elegy in +question--"on Marlowe's untimely death" was inserted immediately +after the title page; that it mentioned a play of Marlowe's +entitled _The Duke of Guise_ and four others; but whether +particularly by _name_, he could not recollect. Unluckily he did +not purchase this rare piece, + it is now God knows where. + +Bishop Tanner likewise mentions this elegy in so particular a +manner that he must have seen it. "Marlovius (Christopherus), +quondam in academia Cantabrigiensi musarum alumnus; postea actor +scenicus; deinde poeta dramaticus tragicus, paucis inferior +Scripsit plurimas tragedias, sc. Tamerlane.-Tragedie of Dido +Queen of Carthage. Pr. Come gentle Ganymed. Hanc perfecit + +edidit Tho. Nash Lond. 1594. 4^to.--Petrarius in praefatione ad +Secundam partem Herois et Leandri multa in Marlovii +commendationem adfert; hoc etiam facit Tho. Nash in _Carmine +Elegiaco Tragidiae Didonis praefiso in obitum Christop. Marlovii_, +ubi quatuor ejus tragidiarum mentionem facit, nec non et alterius +_de duce Guisio_." _Bib. Britan._ 1740. + +I suspect M^r Warton had no other authority than this for saying +that this play was left imperfect by Marlowe, and completed + +published by Nashe; for it does not appear from the title page +that it was not written in conjunction by him + Marlowe in the +lifetime of the former. Perhaps Nashe's Elegy might ascertain +this point. Tanner had, I believe, no authority but Philipses, +for calling Marlowe an actor. + +There was an old Latin play on the subject of Dido, written by +John Rightwise and played before Cardinal Wolsey + again before +Queen Elizabeth in 1564. There is also another Latin play on this +subject _Dido_, tragedia nova so quatuor pri*ibus *** +**************** Virgilii disampla Antwerp ed, 1559. + + + + +THE +Tragedie of Dido +_Queene of Carthage:_ + +Played by the Children of her +_Maiesties Chappell._ + +Written by Christopher Marlowe, and +_Thomas Nash. Gent._ + +Actors + +_Iupiter._ _Ascanius._ +_Ganimed._ _Dido._ +_Venus._ _Anna._ +_Cupid._ _Achates._ +_Iuno._ _Ilioneus._ +_Mercurie._ _Iarbas._ +_Hermes._ _Cloanthes._ +_AEneas._ _Sergestus._ + +[Illustration: (Decorative) "BY PEACE PLENTY, BY WISDOME PEACE"] + +AT LONDON, + +Printed, by the Widdowe _Orwin_, for _Thomas Woodcocke_, and +are to be solde at his shop, in Paules Church-yeard, at +the signe of the blacke Beare. 1594. + + + +[Illustration: (Decorative)] + + + + +The Tragedie of _Dido_ Queene +_of Carthage._ + + +_Here the Curtaines draw, there is discovered_ Iupiter _dandling_ +Ganimed _upon his knee, and_ Mercury _lying asleepe_. + +_Iup._ Come gentle _Ganimed_ and play with me, +I loue thee well, say _Iuno_ what she will. + +_Gan._ I am much better for your worthles loue, +That will not shield me from her shrewith 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. + +_Iup._ What? dares she strike the darling of my thoughts? +By _Saturnes_ soule, and this earth threatning aire, +That shaken thrise, makes Natures buildings quake, +I vow, if she but once frowne on thee more, +To hang her meteor like twixt heauen and earth, +And bind her hand and foote with golden cordes, +As once I did for harming _Hercules_. + +_Gan._ 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 _Iupiter_, 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. + +_Iup._ 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, +Haue oft driuen backe the horses of the night. +When as they would haue 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 heauen and earth the bounds of thy delight? +_Vulcan_ shall daunce to make thee laughing sport, +And my nine Daughters sing when thou art sad, +From _Iunos_ bird Ile pluck her spotted pride, +To make thee fannes wherewith to coole thy face, +And _Venus_ Swannes shall shed their siluer 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, +Doe thou but say their colour pleaseth me: +Hold here my little loue these linked gems, +My _Iuno_ ware vpon her marriage day, +Put thou about thy necke my owne sweet heart, +And tricke thy armes and shoulders with my theft. + +_Gan._ I would haue a iewell for mine eare, +And a fine brouch to put in my hat, +And then Ile hugge with you an hundred times. + +_Iup._ And shall haue _Ganimed_, if thou wilt be my loue. + +_Enter Venus._ + +_Venus._ 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 euery billowes pride. +_Iuno_, false _Iuno_ in her Chariots pompe, +Drawne through the heauens 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 vp in armes: +Poore _Troy_ must now be sackt vpon the Sea, +And _Neptunes_ waues be enuious 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 saue thee my sweet boy? +When as the waues doe threat our Chrystall world, +And _Proteus_ raising hils of flouds on high, +Entends ere long to sport him in the skie. +False _Iupiter_, rewardst thou vertue so? +What? is not pietie exempt from woe? +Then dye _AEneas_ in thine innocence, +Since that religion hath no recompence. + +_Iup._ 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 aduance her head, +And flourish once againe that erst was dead: +But bright _Ascanius_ beauties better worke, +Who with the Sunne deuides one radiant shape, +Shall build his throne amidst those starrie towers, +That earth-borne _Atlas_ groning vnderprops: +No bounds but heauen shall bound his Emperie, +Whose azured gates enchased with his name, +Shall make the morning halt her gray vprise, +To feede her eyes with his engrauen fame. +Thus in stoute _Hectors_ race three hundred yeares, +The Romane Scepter royall shall remaine, +Till that a Princesse priest conceau'd by _Mars_, +Shall yeeld to dignitie a dubble birth, +Who will eternish _Troy_ in their attempts. + +_Venus._ How may I credite these thy flattering termes, +When yet both sea and sands beset their ships, +And _Ph[oe]bus_ as in stygian pooles, refraines +To taint his tresses in the Tyrrhen maine? + +_Iup._ 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 Iupiter cum Ganimed._ + +_Venus._ 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 heauens conceau'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 _Cimodoae_, +To succour him in this extremitie. + +_Enter AEneas with Ascanius, 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 ioyes: +Great _Iupiter_, 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 heauen and earth with his vnrest acquaints. + +_AEn._ You sonnes of care, companions of my course, +_Priams_ misfortune followes vs by sea, +And _Helens_ rape doth haunt thee at the heeles. +How many dangers haue we ouer past? +Both barking _Scilla_, and the sounding Rocks, +The _Cyclops_ shelues, and grim _Ceranias_ seate +Haue you oregone, and yet remaine aliue! +Pluck vp your hearts, since fate still rests our friend, +And chaunging heauens may those good daies returne, +Which _Pergama_ did vaunt in all her pride. + +_Acha._ Braue Prince of _Troy_, thou onely art our God, +That by thy vertues freest vs from annoy, +And makes our hopes suruiue to cunning ioyes: +Doe thou but smile, and clowdie heauen will cleare, +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 aire, +To make vs liue vnto our former heate, +And euery beast the forrest doth send forth, +Bequeath her young ones to our scanted foode. + +_Asca._ Father I faint, good father giue me meate. + +_AEn._ Alas sweet boy, thou must be still a while, +Till we haue fire to dresse the meate we kild: +Gentle _Achates_, reach the Tinder boxe, +That we may make a fire to warme vs with, +And rost our new found victuals on this shoare. + +_Venus._ See what strange arts necessitie findes out, +How neere my sweet _AEneas_ art thou driuen? + +_AEn._ Hold, take this candle and goe light a fire, +You shall haue leaues 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_ roaue abroad, +To know what coast the winde hath driuen vs on, +Or whether men or beasts inhabite it. + +_Acha._ The ayre is pleasant, and the soyle most fit +For Cities, and societies supports: +Yet much I maruell that I cannot finde, +No steps of men imprinted in the earth. + +_Venus._ 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? +Hauing a quiuer girded to her side, +And cloathed in a spotted Leopards skin. + +_AEn._ 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, +Liue happie in the height of all content, +And lighten our extreames with this one boone, +As to instruct us vnder what good heauen +We breathe as now, and what this world is calde, +On which by tempests furie we are cast, +Tell vs, O tell vs that are ignorant, +And this right hand shall make thy Altars crack +With mountaine heapes of milke white Sacrifize. + +_Venus._ Such honour, stranger, doe I not affect: +It is the vse for Turen maides to weare +Their bowe and quiuer in this modest sort, +And suite themselues in purple for the nonce, +That they may trip more lightly ore the lawndes, +And ouertake the tusked Bore in chase. +But for the land whereof thou doest enquire, +It is the punick kingdome rich and strong, +Adioyning 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? + +_AEn._ Of _Troy_ am I, _AEneas_ is my name, +Who driuen by warre from forth my natiue world, +Put sailes to sea to seeke out _Italy_; +And my diuine descent from sceptred _Iove_, +With twise twelue Phrigian ships I plowed the deepe, +And made that way my mother _Venus_ led: +But of them all scarce seuen doe anchor safe, +And they so wrackt and weltred by the waues, +As euery tide tilts twixt their oken sides: +And all of them vnburdened of their loade, +Are ballassed with billowes watrie weight. +But haples I, God wot, poore and vnknowne, +Doe trace these Libian deserts all despisde, +Exild forth _Europe_ and wide _Asia_ both, +And haue not any couerture but heauen. + +_Venus._ Fortune hath fauord thee what ere thou be, +In sending thee vnto this curteous Coast: +A Gods name on and hast thee to the Court, +Where _Dido_ will receiue ye with her smiles: +And for thy ships which thou supposest lost, +Not one of them hath perisht in the storme, +But are ariued safe not farre from hence: +And so I leaue thee to thy fortunes lot, +Wishing good lucke vnto thy wandring steps. _Exit_. + +_AEn._ _Achates_, tis my mother that is fled, +I know her by the mouings of her feete: +Stay gentle _Venus_, flye not from thy sonne, +Too cruell, why wilt thou forsake me thus? +Or in these shades deceiu'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 leau'st me here alone, +To dull the ayre with my discoursiue moane. _Exit_. + +_Enter Illioneus, and Cloanthes._ + +_Illio._ Follow ye Troians, follow this braue Lord, +And plaine to him the summe of your distresse. + +_Iar._ Why, what are you, or wherefore doe you sewe? + +_Illio._ Wretches of _Troy_, enuied of the windes, +That craue such fauour at your honors feete, +As poore distressed miserie may pleade: +Saue, saue, O saue our ships from cruell fire, +That doe complaine the wounds of thousand waues, +And spare our liues whom euery 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 vnweaponed thoughts, +Whose fading weale of victorie forsooke, +Forbids all hope to harbour neere our hearts. + +_Iar._ But tell me Troians, Troians if you be, +Vnto what fruitfull quarters were ye bound, +Before that _Boreas_ buckled with your sailes? + +_Cloan._ There is a place _Hesperia_ term'd by vs, +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 vs escapt to land, +The rest we feare are foulded in the flouds. + +_Iar._ Braue men at armes, abandon fruitles feares, +Since Carthage knowes to entertaine distresse. + +_Serg._ I but the barbarous sort doe threat our ships, +And will not let vs lodge vpon the sands: +In multitudes they swarme vnto the shoare, +And from the first earth interdict our feete. + +_Iar._ My selfe will see they shall not trouble ye, +Your men and you shall banquet in our Court, +And euery Troian be as welcome here, +As _Iupiter_ to sillie _Vausis_ house: +Come in with me, Ile bring you to my Queene, +Who shall confirme my words with further deedes. + +_Serg._ Thankes gentle Lord for such vnlookt 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. + + + + +Actus 2. + + +_Enter AEneas, Achates, and Ascanius._ + +_AEn._ Where am I now? these should be Carthage walles. + +_Acha._ Why stands my sweete _AEneas_ thus amazde? + +_AEn._ 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. +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. + +_Ach._ And in this humor is _Achates_ to, +I cannot choose but fall vpon my knees, +And kisse his hand: O where is _Hecuba_, +Here she was wont to sit, but sauing ayre +Is nothing here, and what is this but stone? + +_AEn._ O yet this stone doth make _AEneas_ weepe, +And would my prayers (as _Pigmalions_ did) +Could giue it life, that vnder his conduct +We might saile backe to _Troy_ and be reuengde +On these hard harted Grecians; which reioyce +That nothing now is left of _Priamus_: +O _Priamus_ is left and this is he, +Come, come abourd, pursue the hatefull Greekes. + +_Acha._ What means _AEneas_? + +_AEn._ _Achates_ though mine eyes say this is stone, +Yet thinkes my minde that this is _Priamus_: +And when my grieued heart sighes and sayes no, +Then would it leape out to giue _Priam_ life: +O were I not at all so thou mightst be. +_Achates_, see King _Priam_ wags his hand, +He is aliue, _Troy_ is not ouercome. + +_Ach._ Thy mind _AEneas_ that would haue it so +Deludes thy eye sight, _Priamus_ is dead. + +_AEn._ Ah _Troy_ is sackt, and _Priamus_ is dead, +And why should poore _AEneas_ be aliue? + +_Asca._ Sweete father leaue to weepe, this is not he: +For were it _Priam_ he would smile on me. + +_Acha._ _AEneas_ see here come the Citizens, +Leaue to lament lest they laugh at our feares. + +_Enter Cloanthus, Sergestus, Illioneus._ + +_AEn._ Lords of this towne, or whatsoeuer stile +Belongs vnto your name, vouchsafe of ruth +To tell vs who inhabits this faire towne, +What kind of people, and who gouernes them: +For we are strangers driuen on this shore, +And scarcely know within what Clime we are. + +_Illio._ I heare _AEneas_ voyce, but see him not, +For none of these can be our Generall. + +_Acha._ Like _Illioneus_ speakes this Noble man, +But _Illioneus_ goes not in such robes. + +_Serg._ You are _Achates_, or I deciu'd. + +_Acha._ _AEneas_ see _Sergestus_ or his ghost. + +_Illio._ He meanes _AEneas_, let vs kisse his feete. + +_Cloan._ It is our Captaine, see _Ascanius_. + +_Serg._ Liue long _AEneas_ and _Ascanius_. + +_AEn._ _Achates_, speake, for I am ouerioyed. + +_Acha._ O _Illioneus_, art thou yet aliue? + +_Illio._ Blest be the time I see _Achates_ face. + +_Cloan._ Why turnes _AEneas_ from his trustie friends? + +_AEn._ _Sergestus_, _Illioneus_ and the rest, +Your sight amazde me, O what destinies +Haue brought my sweete companions in such plight? +O tell me, for I long to be resolu'd. + +_Illio._ Louely _AEneas_, these are Carthage walles, +And here Queene _Dido_ weares th'imperiall Crowne, +Who for _Troyes_ sake hath entertaind vs all, +And clad vs in these wealthie robes we weare. +Oft hath she askt vs vnder whom we seru'd, +And when we told her she would weepe for griefe, +Thinking the sea had swallowed vp thy ships, +And now she sees thee how will she reioyce? + +_Serg._ See where her seruitors passe through the hall +Bearing a banket, _Dido_ is not farre. + +_Illio._ Looke where she comes: _AEneas_ viewd her well. + +_AEn._ Well may I view her, but she sees not me. + +_Enter Dido and her traine._ + +_Dido._ What stranger art thou that doest eye me thus? + +_AEn._ Sometime I was a Troian mightie Queene: +But _Troy_ is not, what shall I say I am? + +_Illio._ Renowmed _Dido_, tis our Generall: warlike _AEneas_. + +_Dido._ Warlike _AEneas_, and in these base robes? +Goe fetch the garment which _Sicheus_ ware: +Braue 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 euer _Irus_ ware. + +_AEn._ 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. + +_Dido._ 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 louely child. + +_AEn._ This place beseemes me not, O pardon me. + +_Dido._ Ile haue it so, _AEneas_ be content. + +_Asca._ Madame, you shall be my mother. + +_Dido._ And so I will sweete child: be merrie man, +Heres to thy better fortune and good starres. + +_AEn._ In all humilitie I thanke your grace. + +_Dido._ Remember who thou art, speake like thy selfe, +Humilitie belongs to common groomes. + +_AEn._ And who so miserable as _AEneas_ is? + +_Dido._ Lyes it in _Didos_ hands to make thee blest, +Then be assured thou art not miserable. + +_AEn._ O _Priamus_, O _Troy_, oh _Hecuba_! + +_Dido._ May I entreate thee to discourse at large, +And truely to how _Troy_ was ouercome: +For many tales goe of that Cities fall, +And scarcely doe agree vpon one poynt: +Some say _Antenor_ did betray the towne, +Others report twas _Sinons_ periurie: +But all in this that _Troy_ is ouercome, +And _Priam_ dead, yet how we heare no newes. + +_AEn._ A wofull tale bids _Dido_ to vnfould, +Whose memorie like pale deaths stony mace, +Beates forth my senses from this troubled soule, +And makes _AEneas_ sinke at _Didos_ feete. + +_Dido._ What faints _AEneas_ to remember _Troy_? +In whose defence he fought so valiantly: +Looke vp and speake. + +_AEn._ 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 mou'd too much with my sad tale. +The Grecian souldiers tired with ten yeares warre; +Began to crye, let vs vnto our ships, +_Troy_ is inuincible, 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 gaue, +Seeing the number of their men decreast, +And the remainder weake and out of heart, +Gaue vp their voyces to dislodge the Campe, +And so in troopes all marcht to _Tenedos_: +Where when they came, _Vlysses_ on the sand +Assayd with honey words to turne them backe: +And as he spoke to further his entent, +The windes did driue huge billowes to the shoare, +And heauen was darkned with tempestuous clowdes: +Then he alleag'd the Gods would haue them stay, +And prophecied _Troy_ should be ouercome: +And therewithall he calde false _Sinon_ forth, +A man compact of craft and periurie, +Whose ticing tongue was made of _Hermes_ pipe, +To force an hundred watchfull eyes to sleepe: +And him _Epeus_ hauing made the horse, +With sacrificing wreathes vpon his head, +_Vlysses_ sent to our vnhappie towne: +Who groueling in the mire of _Zanthus_ bankes, +His hands bound at his back, and both his eyes +Turnd vp to heauen as one resolu'd to dye, +Our Phrigian shepherd haled within the gates, +And brought vnto the Court of _Priamus_: +To whom he vsed action so pitifull, +Lookes so remorcefull, vowes so forcible, +As therewithall the old man ouercome, +Kist him, imbrast him, and vnloosde his bands, +And then, O _Dido_ pardon me. + +_Dido._ Nay leaue not here, resolue me of the rest. + +_AEn._ O th'inchaunting words of that base slaue, +Made him to thinke _Epeus_ pine-tree Horse +A sacrifize t'appease _Mineruas_ wrath: +The rather for that one _Laocoon_ +Breaking a speare vpon his hollow breast, +Was with two winged Serpents stung to death. +Whereat agast, we were commanded straight +With reuerence to draw it into _Troy_. +In which vnhappie 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 neuer entred, _Troy_ had stood. +But _Priamus_ impatient of delay, +Inforst a wide breach in that rampierd wall, +Which thousand battering Rams could neuer pierce, +And so came in this fatall instrument: +At whose accursed feete as ouerioyed, +We banquetted till ouercome 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 vnlockt the Horse, and suddenly +From out his entrailes, _Neoptolemus_ +Setting his speare vpon 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 vnto 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 vp 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_ flye, +_Troy_ is a fire, the Grecians haue the towne, + +_Dido._ O _Hector_ who weepes not to heare thy name? + +_AEn._ Yet flung I forth, and desperate of my life, +Ran in the thickest throngs, and with this sword +Sent many of their sauadge 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. + +_Dido._ Ah, how could poore _AEneas_ scape their hands? + +_AEn._ My mother _Venus_ iealous of my health, +Conuaid 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 _Ioues_ Altar finding _Priamus_, +About whose withered necke hung _Hecuba_, +Foulding his hand in hers, and ioyntly both +Beating their breasts and falling on the ground, +He with his faulchions poynt raisde vp at once, +And with _Megeras_ eyes stared in their face, +Threatning a thousand deaths at euery 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 liue? +O let me liue, great _Neoptolemus_, +Not mou'd at all, but smiling at his teares, +This butcher whil'st his hands were yet held vp, +Treading vpon his breast, strooke off his hands. + +_Dido._ O end _AEneas_, I can heare no more. + +_AEn._ 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 vp his bedred lims, +And would haue grappeld with _Achilles_ sonne, +Forgetting both his want of strength and hands, +Which he disdaining whiskt his sword about, +And with the wound thereof the King fell downe: +Then from the nauell to the throat at once, +He ript old _Priam_: at whose latter gaspe +_Ioues_ marble statue gan to bend the brow, +As lothing _Pirrhus_ for this wicked act: +Yet he vndaunted 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 yong boy in mine armes, and by the hand +Led faire _Creusa_ my beloued wife, +When thou _Achates_ with thy sword mad'st way, +And we were round inuiron'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 serue, of force we fled, +And as we went vnto our ships, thou knowest +We sawe _Cassandra_ sprauling in the streetes, +Whom _Aiax_ rauisht in _Dianas_ Fawne, +Her cheekes swolne with sighes, her haire all rent, +Whom I tooke vp to beare vnto our ships; +But suddenly the Grecians followed vs, +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. +Moued 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. + +_Dido._ I dye with melting ruth, _AEneas_ leaue. + +_Anna._ O what became of aged _Hecuba_? + +_Iar._ How got _AEneas_ to the fleete againe? + +_Dido._ But how scapt _Helen_, she that causde this warre? + +_AEn._ _Achates_ speake, sorrow hath tired me quite. + +_Acha._ What happened to the Queene we cannot shewe, +We heare they led her captiue into Greece, +As for _AEneas_ he swomme quickly backe, +And _Helena_ betraied _Diiphobus_ +Her Louer, after _Alexander_ dyed, +And so was reconcil'd to _Menelaus_. + +_Dido._ O had that ticing strumpet nere been borne: +Troian, thy ruthfull tale hath made me sad: +Come let vs thinke vpon some pleasing sport, +To rid me from these melancholly thoughts. + +_Exeunt omnes._ + +_Enter Venus at another doore, and takes Ascanius by the sleeve._ + +_Venus._ Faire child stay thou with _Didos_ waiting maide, +Ile giue thee Sugar-almonds, sweete Conserues, +A siluer girdle, and a golden purse, +And this yong Prince shall be thy playfellow. + +_Asca._ Are you Queene _Didos_ sonne? + +_Cupid._ I, and my mother gaue me this fine bow. + +_Asca._ Shall I haue such a quiuer and a bow? + +_Venus._ Such bow, such quiuer, and such golden shafts, +Will _Dido_ giue 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. +Now is he fast asleepe, and in this groue +Amongst greene brakes Ile lay _Ascanius_, +And strewe him with sweete smelling Violets, +Blushing Roses, purple _Hyacinthe_: +These milke white Doues shall be his Centronels: +Who if that any seeke to doe him hurt, +Will quickly flye to _Citheidas_ 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 vpon _AEneas_ loue: +And by that meanes repaire his broken ships, +Victuall his Souldiers, giue him wealthie gifts, +And he at last depart to _Italy_, +Or els in _Carthage_ make his kingly throne. + +_Cupid._ I will faire mother, and so play my part, +As euery touch shall wound Queene _Didos_ heart. + +_Venus._ 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 leaues, all shall be still, +And nothing interrupt thy quiet sleepe, +Till I returne and take thee hence againe. _Exit._ + + + + +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 _AEneas_ 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 _AEneas_ 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 _AEneas_ worthie _Didos_ loue? + +_Anna._ O sister, were you Empresse of the world, +_AEneas_ 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 _AEneas_, 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 _AEneas_ 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 _AEneas, 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 _AEneas_ shewe your maiestie. + +_Dido._ _AEneas_ art thou there? + +_AEn._ 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. + +_AEn._ 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._ _AEneas_, 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 _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 fauours of more soueraigne worth, +Then _Thetis_ hangs about _Apolloes_ necke, +So that _AEneas_ may but stay with me. + +_AEn._ Wherefore would _Dido_ haue _AEneas_ stay? + +_Dido._ To warre against my bordering enemies: +_AEneas_, thinke not _Dido_ is in loue: +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? + +_Acha._ I saw this man at _Troy_ ere _Troy_ was sackt. + +_AEn._ 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 _AEtolia_. + +_Cloan._ And I in _Athens_ with this gentleman, +Vnlesse I be deceiu'd disputed once. + +_Dido._ But speake _AEneas_, know you none of these? + +_AEn._ 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. + +_AEn._ 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: _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. _Exeunt._ + +_Enter Iuno to Ascanius asleepe._ + +_Iuno._ Here lyes my hate, _AEneas_ 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 _AEneas_, 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, AEneas, Anna, Iarbus, Achates, and followers._ + +_Dido._ _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 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. + +_AEn._ 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: +_AEneas_, 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? + +_AEn._ 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. + +_AEn._ 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. + +_AEn._ 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._ _AEneas_, 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 _AEneas_, 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 AEneas and Dido in the Caue at seuerall times._ + +_Dido._ _AEneas._ + +_AEn._ _Dido._ + +_Dido._ Tell me deare loue, how found you out this Caue? + +_AEn._ 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. + +_AEn._ 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. + +_AEn._ It is not ought _AEneas_ may achieue? + +_Dido._ _AEneas_ no, although his eyes doe pearce. + +_AEn._ What, hath _Iarbus_ angred her in ought? +And will she be auenged on his life? + +_Dido._ Not angred me, except in angring thee. + +_AEn._ 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: +_AEneas_, O _AEneas_, quench these flames. + +_AEn._ 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: +_AEneas_, thou art he, what did I say? +Something it was that now I haue forgot. + +_AEn._ What meanes faire _Dido_ by this doubtfull speech? + +_Dido._ Nay, nothing, but _AEneas_ loues me not. + +_AEn._ _AEneas_ 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. + +_AEn._ 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 _AEneas_ 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? + +_AEn._ The ayre is cleere, and Southerne windes are whist, +Come _Dido_, let vs hasten to the towne, +Since gloomie _AEolus_ doth cease to frowne. + +_Dido._ _Achates_ and _Ascanius_, well met. + +_AEn._ 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 _AEneas_ in the vgly Caue. + +_Dido._ 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. _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 AEneas alone._ + +_AEn._ _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, _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 a passage through his toples hilles: +_Achates_ come forth, _Sergestus_, _Illioneus_, +_Cloanthus_, haste away, _AEneas_ calles. + +_Enter Achates, Cloanthus, Sergestus, and Illioneus._ + +_Acha._ What willes our Lord, or wherefore did he call? + +_AEn._ 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 _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 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 _AEneas_ in her armes. + +_Cloan._ To _Italy_, sweete friends to _Italy_, +We will not stay a minute longer here. + +_AEn._ 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, _AEneas_, 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 _AEneas_, finde out _Italy_. _Exit._ + +_Enter Dido and Anna._ + +_Dido._ O _Anna_, runne vnto 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. +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 AEneas, Achates, Illioneus, and Sergestus._ + +_Anna._ Twas time to runne, _AEneas_ had been gone, +The sailes were hoysing vp, and he abourd. + +_Dido._ Is this thy loue to me? + +_AEn._ 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 _AEneas_ goe abourd with vs. + +_Dido._ Get you abourd, _AEneas_ meanes to stay. + +_AEn._ The sea is rough, the windes blow to the shoare. + +_Dido._ O false _AEneas_, now the sea is rough, +But when you were abourd twas calme enough, +Thou and _Achates_ ment to saile away. + +_AEn._ Hath not the Carthage Queene mine onely sonne? +Thinkes _Dido_ I will goe and leaue him here? + +_Dido._ _AEneas_ 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 _AEneas_ for this crime. + +_AEn._ This kisse shall be faire _Didos_ punishment. + +_Dido._ O how a Crowne becomes _AEneas_ head! +Stay here _AEneas_, and commaund as King. + +_AEn._ 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_. + +_Dido._ O keepe them still, and let me gaze my fill: +Now lookes _AEneas_ 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 _AEneas_ 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. + +_AEn._ 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 _AEneas_ seekes, +Lets see what tempests can anoy me now. + +_Dido._ 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 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 +_AEneas_ ride as Carthaginian King. + +_Acha._ _AEneas_ for his parentage deserues +As large a kingdome as is _Libia_. + +_AEn._ 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. + +_AEn._ 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 _AEneas_ 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, +_AEneas_ 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 _AEneas_ 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 _AEneas_ 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 _AEneas_ tackling, oares and sailes. + +_Dido._ 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, +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 _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_ loue, +Thou wouldst haue 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 loue 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 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 AEneas with a paper in his hand, drawing the platforme of the +citie, with him Achates, Cloanthus, and Illieneus._ + +_AEn._ Triumph my mates, our trauels are at end, +Here will _AEneas_ 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 c[=o]taine? + +_AEn._ Not past foure thousand paces at the most. + +_Illio._ But what shall it be calde, _Troy_ as before? + +_AEn._ That haue I not determinde with my selfe. + +_Cloan._ Let it be term'd _AEnea_ by your name. + +_Serg._ Rather _Ascania_ by your little sonne. + +_AEn._ Nay, I will haue it calde _Anchisaon_, +Of my old fathers name. + +_Enter Hermes with Ascanius._ + +_Hermes._ _AEneas_ stay, _Ioues_ Herald bids thee stay. + +_AEn._ 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. + +_AEn._ 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. + +_AEn._ _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_. + +_AEn._ 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 _AEneas_, sad, what meanes these dumpes? + +_AEn._ _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. + +_AEn._ 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. + +_AEn._ 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 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 AEneas._ + +_Dido._ 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 hauen, lye they in the Rhode? +Pardon me though I aske, loue makes me aske. + +_AEn._ O pardon me, if I resolue thee why: +_AEneas_ 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 _AEneas_ will not leaue his loue. + +_AEn._ 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 _AEneas_ heart. + +_AEn._ 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 _AEneas_ stay, +I dye, if my _AEneas_ say farewell. + +_AEn._ 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 _AEneas_, 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 _AEneas_, tis for griefe of thee: +Say thou wilt stay in _Carthage_ with my Queene, +And _Didos_ beautie will returne againe: +_AEneas_, 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 _AEneas_, must thou say, +Then let me goe, and neuer say farewell. + +_AEn._ O Queene of _Carthage_, wert thou vgly blacke, +_AEneas_ 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 _AEneas_ from mine armes? +O no, the Gods wey not what Louers 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: & istam +Oro, si quis ad hac precibus locus, exue mentem._ + +_AEn. 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 _AEneas_ in his face: +Now if thou goest, what canst thou leaue behind, +But rather will augment then ease my woe? + +_AEn._ 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 _AEneas_? ah hees gone hees gone! + +_Anna._ What meanes my sister thus to raue and crye? + +_Dido._ O _Anna_, my _AEneas_ 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 _AEneas_. + +_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, _AEneas_ was abourd, +And spying me, hoyst vp the sailes amaine: +But I cride out, _AEneas_, false _AEneas_ 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, _AEneas_ stay, +_Dido_, faire _Dido_ wils _AEneas_ 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 _AEneas_ 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 _AEneas_, _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 _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 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 _AEneas_ 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 _AEneas_, 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 _AEneas_. + +_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._ + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Tragedy of Dido Queene of Carthage +by Christopher Marlowe + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DIDO QUEENE OF CARTHAGE *** + +***** This file should be named 16169.txt or 16169.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/1/6/16169/ + +Produced by Clare Boothby, Clare Elliott and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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