SCENE IV.

_Enter_[524] DIDO _and_ ANNA.

_Dido._ O Anna, run unto the water-side! They say Æneas' men are going aboard; It may be, he will steal away with them: Stay not to answer me; run, Anna, run! [_Exit_ ANNA. O foolish Trojans, that would steal from hence, And not let Dido understand their drift! I would have given Achates store of gold, And Ilioneus gum and Libyan spice; The common soldiers rich embroider'd coats, And silver whistles to control the winds, 10 Which Circe[525] sent Sichæus when he lived: Unworthy are they of a queen's reward. See where they come: how might I do to chide?

_Re-enter_ ANNA, _with_ ÆNEAS, ACHATES, CLOANTHUS, ILIONEUS, SERGESTUS, _and_ Carthaginian Lords.

_Anna._ 'Twas time to run; Æneas had been gone; The sails were hoising up, and he aboard.

_Dido._ Is this thy love to me?

_Æn._ O princely Dido, give me leave to speak! I went to take my farewell of Achates.

_Dido._ How haps Achates bid me not farewell?

_Ach._ Because I feared your grace would keep me here. 20

_Dido._ To rid thee of that doubt, aboard again: I charge thee put to sea, and stay not here.

_Ach._ Then let Æneas go aboard with us.

_Dido._ Get you aboard; Æneas means to stay.

_Æn._ The sea is rough, the winds blow to the shore.

_Dido._ O false Æneas! now the sea is rough; But, when you were aboard, 'twas calm enough: Thou and Achates meant to sail away.

_Æn._ Hath not the Carthage queen mine only son? Thinks Dido I will go and leave him here? 30

_Dido._ Æneas, pardon me; for I forgot That young Ascanius lay with me this night; Love made me jealous: but, to make amends, Wear the imperial crown of Libya, [_Giving him her crown and sceptre._ Sway thou the Punic sceptre in my stead, And punish me, Æneas, for this crime.

_Æn._ This kiss shall be fair Dido's punishment.

_Dido._ O, how a crown becomes Æneas' head! Stay here, Æneas, and command as king.

_Æn._ How vain am I to wear this diadem, 40 And bear this golden sceptre in my hand! A burgonet of steel, and not a crown, A sword, and not a sceptre, fits Æneas.

_Dido._ O, keep them still, and let me gaze my fill! Now looks Æneas like immortal Jove: O, where is Ganymede, to hold his cup, And Mercury, to fly for what he calls? Ten thousand Cupids hover in the air, And fan it in Æneas' lovely face! O, that the clouds were here wherein thou fled'st,[526] 50 That thou and I unseen might sport ourselves! Heaven,[527] envious of our joys, is waxen pale; And when we whisper, then the stars fall down, To be partakers of our honey talk.

_Æn._ O Dido, patroness of all our lives, When I leave thee, death be my punishment! Swell, raging seas! frown, wayward Destinies! Blow, winds! threaten, ye rocks and sandy shelves! This is the harbour that Æneas seeks: Let's see what tempests can annoy me now. 60

_Dido._ Not all the world can take thee from mine arms. Æneas may command as many Moors As in the sea are little water-drops: And now, to make experience of my love,-- Fair sister Anna, lead my lover forth, And, seated on my jennet, let him ride, As Dido's husband, through the Punic streets; And will[528] my guard, with Mauritanian darts To wait upon him as their sovereign lord.

_Anna._ What if the citizens repine thereat? 70

_Dido._ Those that dislike what Dido gives in charge, Command my guard to slay for their offence. Shall vulgar peasants storm at what I do? The ground is mine that gives them sustenance, The air wherein they breathe, the water, fire, All that they have, their lands, their goods, their lives! And I, the goddess of all these, command Æneas ride as Carthaginian king.

_Ach._ Æneas, for his parentage, deserves As large a kingdom as is Libya. 80

_Æn._ I, and, unless the Destinies be false, I shall be planted in as rich a land.

_Dido._ Speak of no other land; this land is thine; Dido is thine, henceforth I'll thee lord.-- Do as I bid thee, sister; lead the way; And from a turret I'll behold my love.

_Æn._ Then here in me shall flourish Priam's race; And thou and I, Achates, for revenge For Troy, for Priam, for his fifty sons, Our kinsmen's lives[529] and thousand guiltless souls, 90 Will lead an host against the hateful Greeks, And fire proud Lacedæmon o'er their heads. [_Exeunt all except_ DIDO _and_ Carthaginian Lords.

_Dido._ Speaks not Æneas like a conqueror? O blessèd tempests that did drive him in! O happy sand that made him run aground! Henceforth you shall be [of] our Carthage gods. I, but it may be, he will leave my love, And seek a foreign land called Italy: O, that I had a charm to keep the winds Within the closure of a golden ball; 100 Or that the Tyrrhene sea were in mine arms, That he might suffer shipwreck on my breast, As oft as he attempts to hoist up sail! I must prevent him; wishing will not serve.-- Go bid my nurse take young Ascanius, And bear him in the country to her house; Æneas will not go without his son; Yet, lest he should, for I am full of fear, Bring me his oars, his tackling, and his sails. [_Exit_ First Lord. What if I sink his ships? O, he will frown! 110 Better he frown than I should die for grief. I cannot see him frown; it may not be: Armies of foes resolv'd to win this town, Or impious traitors vow'd to have my life, Affright me not; only Æneas' frown Is that which terrifies poor Dido's heart; Not bloody spears, appearing in the air, Presage the downfall of my empery, Nor blazing comets threaten Dido's death; It is Æneas' frown that ends my days. 120 If he forsake me not, I never die; For in his looks I see eternity, And he'll make me immortal[530] with a kiss.

_Re-enter_ First Lord, _with_ Attendants _carrying tackling_, &c.

_First Lord._ Your nurse is gone with young Ascanius: And here's Æneas' tackling, oars, and sails.

_Dido._ Are these the sails that, in despite of me, Pack'd[531] with the winds to bear Æneas hence? I'll hang ye in the chamber where I lie; Drive, if you can, my house to Italy: I'll set the casement open, that the winds 130 May enter in, and once again conspire Against the life of me, poor Carthage queen: But, though ye[532] go, he stays in Carthage still; And let rich Carthage fleet[533] upon the seas, So I may have Æneas in mine arms. Is this the wood that grew in Carthage plains, And would be toiling in the watery billows, To rob their mistress of her Trojan guest? O cursèd tree, hadst thou but wit or sense, To measure how I prize Æneas' love, 140 Thou wouldst have leapt from out the sailors' hands, And told me that Æneas meant to go! And yet I blame thee not; thou art but wood. The water, which our poets term a nymph,[534] Why did it suffer thee to touch her breast, And shrunk not back, knowing my love was there? The water is an element, no nymph. Why should I blame Æneas for his flight? O Dido, blame not him, but break his oars! These were the instruments that launched him forth. 150 There's not so much as this base tackling too, But dares to heap up sorrow to my heart: Was it not you that hoisèd up these sails? Why burst you not, and they fell in the seas? For this will Dido tie ye full of knots, And shear ye all asunder with her hands: Now serve to chastise shipboys for their faults; Ye shall no more offend the Carthage queen. Now, let him hang my favours on his masts, And see if those will serve instead of sails; 160 For tackling, let him take the chains of gold, Which I bestow'd upon his followers; Instead of oars, let him use his hands, And swim to Italy. I'll keep these sure.-- Come, bear them in. [_Exeunt._