Chapter 2

_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?