Chapter 3

_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_.