Dido, Queen of Carthage ACT 3. SCENE 1.

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.