ACT IV. SCENE 1

Dido’s chamber as in Act II. Scene 1. Anna sits in the foreground, spinning. The old nurse, Barce, is bustling about, hanging up her mistress’ brilliant robes, which she has cast aside for her old mourning gown of simple white. Dido is seated at the latticed window watching the Trojans in the harbor below prepare for their departure. She is weeping.

_Barce_, coming cautiously to Anna so that Dido may not hear (416-418):

Behold, how eagerly the Trojans launch their ships. In their mad zeal they hurry timbers from the woods, Unhewn and rough, from which to shape their masts and oars, While from the city shoreward rush the fleeing men.

The shouts of the sailors are heard. Dido groans. Anna, hastily putting aside her work, goes to her sister, whose face is buried in her hands. Barce takes up the spinning, stopping at times to wipe her eyes.

_Dido_, lifting her face to her sister (416-418):

Thou seest, Anna, how they haste from every side, And how the bustle of departure fills the shore. The vessels float, the swelling sails salute the breeze, And now the sailors crown the sterns with festive wreaths!

She gives way to her tears.

_Anna_, caressing her sister:

Alas, my sister, for thy sighs and grieving tears, Thy love abandoned and thy trusting faith betrayed!

_Dido_ (419-434):

If this great grief in expectation I have borne, Then truly shall I patience have to bear it still. But, sister, grant me in my woe this one request— For yonder faithless one was wont to cherish thee Alone, and trust to thee his heart; and thou alone Dost know the fav’ring time and method of approach To try the man:—go, sister, and in suppliant strain Address our haughty foe: I took no oath with Greece At wind-swept Aulis to o’erthrow the Trojan State, Nor did I send a hostile fleet to Pergama, Nor desecrate the sacred ashes of his sire, That now he should refuse to bend his ear to me. Go, say his hapless lover makes this last request: That he wait an easy voyage and a fav’ring gale. No longer do I ask a husband’s love denied, Nor yet that he abandon his fair land and realm; Time, only time, I ask, a little space of rest From this mad grief, till Fortune give me fortitude, And teach me how to bear my woe.

_Anna_, preparing to go (412):

O love betrayed, To what despair dost thou not drive the hearts of men?

Exit Anna.

Dido, at the window, watches her sister as she takes her way down to the harbor. When she can no longer see her in the gathering twilight, she turns with a sigh to her chamber.

The old nurse, Barce, totters to her. Dido places her head wearily on the old woman’s shoulder. Barce, drawing her to a couch, tries to soothe her. Dido starts up in terror, as if she saw some fearful shape. She flees before it to her husband’s shrine, and is only recalled from the fancy when she finds the curtains drawn before it.

Barce comes tremblingly to her. Dido in bitter remorse draws the curtains from the shrine and kneels before it. Barce hurries away and soon returns with a lighted candle, which she brings to her mistress. Dido lights the censer. Curtain.