{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_16169/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_16169","id":"gutenberg_16169","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/16169","summary":null,"tags":["Category: British Literature","Category: Classics of Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Plays/Films/Dramas","Dido (Legendary character) -- Drama","Queens -- Carthage (Extinct city) -- Drama","Tragedies (Drama)"],"text":"Produced by Clare Boothby, Clare Elliott and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Tudor Facsimile Texts\n\nThe Tragedy of\nDido Queen of Carthage\n\nWritten by\nCHRISTOPHER MARLOWE and THOMAS NASH\n\n1594\n\n_Date of this the earliest known edition_.... 1594\n\n[_Bodleian_]\n\n_Reproduced in Facsimile_....  1914\n\n\n\n\nThe Tudor Facsimile Texts\n\n_Under the Supervision and Editorship of_\nJOHN S. FARMER\n\nThe Tragedy of\nDido Queen of Carthage\n\nWritten by\nCHRISTOPHER MARLOWE and THOMAS NASH\n\n1594\n\n_Issued for Subscribers by the Editor of_\n\nTHE TUDOR FACSIMILE TEXTS\n\nMCMXIV\n\n\n\n\nThe Tragedy of\nDido Queen of Carthage\n\nWritten by CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE and THOMAS NASH\n\n1594\n\n\n_This play is facsimiled from the Bodley copy. Other examples\n(says Sir Sidney Lee, but unrecorded by Greg) are at Bridgewater\nHouse and at Chatsworth; the Devonshire Collection of Plays has\nrecently been disposed of to an American collector_.\n\n_For other and bibliographical details see D.N.B. I have\nincluded in this facsimile the page of manuscript in the Bodley\nexample inasmuch as it contains matter of interest to the\nstudent._\n\n_The reproduction from the original was made by The Clarendon\nPress, Oxford_.\n\n                        _JOHN S. FARMER_.\n\n\n\n[Transcriber's Note: The following paragraphs have been\ntranscribed from a handwritten page. Some text is illegible, and\nthis has been marked with asterisks where appropriate.]\n\nThe tragedy of _Dido_ is one of the scarcest plays in the English\nlanguage. There are but two copies known to be extant; in the\npossession of D^r Wright and M^r Reed.\n\nM^r Warton speaks in his _Hist. of Eng. Poet_ (III. p. 435) of an\nElegy being prefixed to it on the death of Marlowe; but no such\nis found in either of those copies. In answer to my inquiries on\nthis subject he informed me by letter, [crossed-out text] that a\ncopy of this play was in Osborne's catalogue in the year 1754,\nthat he then saw it in his shop (together with several of M^r\nOldys's books that Osborne had purchased), + that the elegy in\nquestion--\"on Marlowe's untimely death\" was inserted immediately\nafter the title page; that it mentioned a play of Marlowe's\nentitled _The Duke of Guise_ and four others; but whether\nparticularly by _name_, he could not recollect. Unluckily he did\nnot purchase this rare piece, + it is now God knows where.\n\nBishop Tanner likewise mentions this elegy in so particular a\nmanner that he must have seen it. \"Marlovius (Christopherus),\nquondam in academia Cantabrigiensi musarum alumnus; postea actor\nscenicus; deinde poeta dramaticus tragicus, paucis inferior\nScripsit plurimas tragedias, sc. Tamerlane.-Tragedie of Dido\nQueen of Carthage. Pr. Come gentle Ganymed. Hanc perfecit +\nedidit Tho. Nash Lond. 1594. 4^to.--Petrarius in pr\u00e6fatione ad\nSecundam partem Herois et Leandri multa in Marlovii\ncommendationem adfert; hoc etiam facit Tho. Nash in _Carmine\nElegiaco Tragidi\u00e6 Didonis pr\u00e6fiso in obitum Christop. Marlovii_,\nubi quatuor ejus tragidiarum mentionem facit, nec non et alterius\n_de duce Guisio_.\" _Bib. Britan._ 1740.\n\nI suspect M^r Warton had no other authority than this for saying\nthat this play was left imperfect by Marlowe, and completed +\npublished by Nashe; for it does not appear from the title page\nthat it was not written in conjunction by him + Marlowe in the\nlifetime of the former. Perhaps Nashe's Elegy might ascertain\nthis point. Tanner had, I believe, no authority but Philipses,\nfor calling Marlowe an actor.\n\nThere was an old Latin play on the subject of Dido, written by\nJohn Rightwise and played before Cardinal Wolsey + again before\nQueen Elizabeth in 1564. There is also another Latin play on this\nsubject _Dido_, tragedia nova  so quatuor pri*ibus ***\n**************** Virgilii disampla Antwerp ed, 1559.\n\n\n\n\nTHE\nTragedie of Dido\n_Queene of Carthage:_\n\nPlayed by the Children of her\n_Maiesties Chappell._\n\nWritten by Christopher Marlowe, and\n_Thomas Nash. Gent._\n\nActors\n\n_Iupiter._        _Ascanius._\n_Ganimed._        _Dido._\n_Venus._          _Anna._\n_Cupid._          _Achates._\n_Iuno._           _Ilioneus._\n_Mercurie._       _Iarbas._\n_Hermes._         _Cloanthes._\n_\u00c6neas._          _Sergestus._\n\n[Illustration: (Decorative) \"BY PEACE PLENTY, BY WISDOME PEACE\"]\n\nAT LONDON,\n\nPrinted, by the Widdowe _Orwin_, for _Thomas Woodcocke_, and\nare to be solde at his shop, in Paules Church-yeard, at\nthe signe of the blacke Beare. 1594.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: (Decorative)]\n\n\n\n\nThe Tragedie of _Dido_ Queene\n_of Carthage._\n\n\n_Here the Curtaines draw, there is discovered_ Iupiter _dandling_\nGanimed _upon his knee, and_ Mercury _lying asleepe_.\n\n_Iup._ Come gentle _Ganimed_ and play with me,\nI loue thee well, say _Iuno_ what she will.\n\n_Gan._ I am much better for your worthles loue,\nThat will not shield me from her shrewith blowes:\nTo day when as I fild into your cups,\nAnd held the cloath of pleasance whiles you dranke,\nShe reacht me such a rap for that I spilde,\nAs made the bloud run downe about mine eares.\n\n_Iup._ What? dares she strike the darling of my thoughts?\nBy _Saturnes_ soule, and this earth threatning aire,\nThat shaken thrise, makes Natures buildings quake,\nI vow, if she but once frowne on thee more,\nTo hang her meteor like twixt heauen and earth,\nAnd bind her hand and foote with golden cordes,\nAs once I did for harming _Hercules_.\n\n_Gan._ Might I but see that pretie sport a foote,\nO how would I with _Helens_ brother laugh,\nAnd bring the Gods to wonder at the game:\nSweet _Iupiter_, if ere I pleasde thine eye,\nOr seemed faire walde in with Egles wings,\nGrace my immortall beautie with this boone,\nAnd I will spend my time in thy bright armes.\n\n_Iup._ What ist sweet wagge I should deny thy youth?\nWhose face reflects such pleasure to mine eyes,\nAs I exhal'd with thy fire darting beames,\nHaue oft driuen backe the horses of the night.\nWhen as they would haue hal'd thee from my sight:\nSit on my knee, and call for thy content,\nControule proud Fate, and cut the thred of time,\nWhy are not all the Gods at thy commaund,\nAnd heauen and earth the bounds of thy delight?\n_Vulcan_ shall daunce to make thee laughing sport,\nAnd my nine Daughters sing when thou art sad,\nFrom _Iunos_ bird Ile pluck her spotted pride,\nTo make thee fannes wherewith to coole thy face,\nAnd _Venus_ Swannes shall shed their siluer downe,\nTo sweeten out the slumbers of thy bed:\n_Hermes_ no more shall shew the world his wings,\nIf that thy fancie in his feathers dwell,\nBut as this one Ile teare them all from him,\nDoe thou but say their colour pleaseth me:\nHold here my little loue these linked gems,\nMy _Iuno_ ware vpon her marriage day,\nPut thou about thy necke my owne sweet heart,\nAnd tricke thy armes and shoulders with my theft.\n\n_Gan._ I would haue a iewell for mine eare,\nAnd a fine brouch to put in my hat,\nAnd then Ile hugge with you an hundred times.\n\n_Iup._ And shall haue _Ganimed_, if thou wilt be my loue.\n\n_Enter Venus._\n\n_Venus._ I this is it, you can sit toying there,\nAnd playing with that female wanton boy,\nWhiles my _\u00c6neas_ wanders on the Seas,\nAnd rests a pray to euery billowes pride.\n_Iuno_, false _Iuno_ in her Chariots pompe,\nDrawne through the heauens by Steedes of _Boreas_ brood,\nMade _Hebe_ to direct her ayrie wheeles\nInto the windie countrie of the clowdes,\nWhere finding _\u00c6olus_ intrencht with stormes,\nAnd guarded with a thousand grislie ghosts,\nShe humbly did beseech him for our bane,\nAnd charg'd him drowne my sonne with all his traine.\nThen gan the windes breake ope their brazen doores,\nAnd all _\u00c6olia_ to be vp in armes:\nPoore _Troy_ must now be sackt vpon the Sea,\nAnd _Neptunes_ waues be enuious men of warre,\n_Epeus_ horse to _\u00c6tnas_ hill transformd,\nPrepared stands to wracke their woodden walles,\nAnd _\u00c6olus_ like _Agamemnon_ sounds\nThe surges, his fierce souldiers to the spoyle:\nSee how the night _Ulysses_-like comes forth,\nAnd intercepts the day as _Dolon_ erst:\nAy me! the Starres supprisde like _Rhesus_ Steedes,\nAre drawne by darknes forth _Astr\u00e6us_ tents.\nWhat shall I doe to saue thee my sweet boy?\nWhen as the waues doe threat our Chrystall world,\nAnd _Proteus_ raising hils of flouds on high,\nEntends ere long to sport him in the skie.\nFalse _Iupiter_, rewardst thou vertue so?\nWhat? is not pietie exempt from woe?\nThen dye _\u00c6neas_ in thine innocence,\nSince that religion hath no recompence.\n\n_Iup._ Content thee _Cytherea_ in thy care,\nSince thy _\u00c6neas_ wandring fate is firme,\nWhose wearie lims shall shortly make repose,\nIn those faire walles I promist him of yore:\nBut first in bloud must his good fortune bud,\nBefore he be the Lord of _Turnus_ towne,\nOr force her smile that hetherto hath frownd:\nThree winters shall he with the Rutiles warre,\nAnd in the end subdue them with his sword,\nAnd full three Sommers likewise shall he waste,\nIn mannaging those fierce barbarian mindes:\nWhich once performd, poore _Troy_ so long supprest,\nFrom forth her ashes shall aduance her head,\nAnd flourish once againe that erst was dead:\nBut bright _Ascanius_ beauties better worke,\nWho with the Sunne deuides one radiant shape,\nShall build his throne amidst those starrie towers,\nThat earth-borne _Atlas_ groning vnderprops:\nNo bounds but heauen shall bound his Emperie,\nWhose azured gates enchased with his name,\nShall make the morning halt her gray vprise,\nTo feede her eyes with his engrauen fame.\nThus in stoute _Hectors_ race three hundred yeares,\nThe Romane Scepter royall shall remaine,\nTill that a Princesse priest conceau'd by _Mars_,\nShall yeeld to dignitie a dubble birth,\nWho will eternish _Troy_ in their attempts.\n\n_Venus._ How may I credite these thy flattering termes,\nWhen yet both sea and sands beset their ships,\nAnd _Ph[oe]bus_ as in stygian pooles, refraines\nTo taint his tresses in the Tyrrhen maine?\n\n_Iup._ I will take order for that presently:\n_Hermes_ awake, and haste to _Neptunes_ realme,\nWhereas the Wind-god warring now with Fate,\nBesiege the ofspring of our kingly loynes,\nCharge him from me to turne his stormie powers,\nAnd fetter them in _Vulcans_ sturdie brasse,\nThat durst thus proudly wrong our kinsmans peace.\n_Venus_ farewell, thy sonne shall be our care:\nCome _Ganimed_, we must about this geare.\n\n_Exeunt Iupiter cum Ganimed._\n\n_Venus._ Disquiet Seas lay downe your swelling lookes,\nAnd court _\u00c6neas_ with your calmie cheere,\nWhose beautious burden well might make you proude,\nHad not the heauens conceau'd with hel-borne clowdes,\nVaild his resplendant glorie from your view,\nFor my sake pitie him _Oceanus_,\nThat erst-while issued from thy watrie loynes,\nAnd had my being from thy bubling froth:\n_Triton_ I know hath fild his trumpe with _Troy_,\nAnd therefore will take pitie on his toyle,\nAnd call both _Thetis_ and _Cimodo\u00e6_,\nTo succour him in this extremitie.\n\n_Enter \u00c6neas with Ascanius, with one or two more._\n\nWhat? doe I see my sonne now come on shoare:\n_Venus_, how art thou compast with content,\nThe while thine eyes attract their sought for ioyes:\nGreat _Iupiter_, still honourd maist thou be,\nFor this so friendly ayde in time of neede.\nHere in this bush disguised will I stand,\nWhiles my _\u00c6neas_ spends himselfe in plaints,\nAnd heauen and earth with his vnrest acquaints.\n\n_\u00c6n._ You sonnes of care, companions of my course,\n_Priams_ misfortune followes vs by sea,\nAnd _Helens_ rape doth haunt thee at the heeles.\nHow many dangers haue we ouer past?\nBoth barking _Scilla_, and the sounding Rocks,\nThe _Cyclops_ shelues, and grim _Ceranias_ seate\nHaue you oregone, and yet remaine aliue!\nPluck vp your hearts, since fate still rests our friend,\nAnd chaunging heauens may those good daies returne,\nWhich _Pergama_ did vaunt in all her pride.\n\n_Acha._ Braue Prince of _Troy_, thou onely art our God,\nThat by thy vertues freest vs from annoy,\nAnd makes our hopes suruiue to cunning ioyes:\nDoe thou but smile, and clowdie heauen will cleare,\nWhose night and day descendeth from thy browes:\nThough we be now in extreame miserie,\nAnd rest the map of weatherbeaten woe:\nYet shall the aged Sunne shed forth his aire,\nTo make vs liue vnto our former heate,\nAnd euery beast the forrest doth send forth,\nBequeath her young ones to our scanted foode.\n\n_Asca._ Father I faint, good father giue me meate.\n\n_\u00c6n._ Alas sweet boy, thou must be still a while,\nTill we haue fire to dresse the meate we kild:\nGentle _Achates_, reach the Tinder boxe,\nThat we may make a fire to warme vs with,\nAnd rost our new found victuals on this shoare.\n\n_Venus._ See what strange arts necessitie findes out,\nHow neere my sweet _\u00c6neas_ art thou driuen?\n\n_\u00c6n._ Hold, take this candle and goe light a fire,\nYou shall haue leaues and windfall bowes enow\nNeere to these woods, to rost your meate withall:\n_Ascanius_, goe and drie thy drenched lims,\nWhiles I with my _Achates_ roaue abroad,\nTo know what coast the winde hath driuen vs on,\nOr whether men or beasts inhabite it.\n\n_Acha._ The ayre is pleasant, and the soyle most fit\nFor Cities, and societies supports:\nYet much I maruell that I cannot finde,\nNo steps of men imprinted in the earth.\n\n_Venus._ Now is the time for me to play my part:\nHoe yong men, saw you as you came\nAny of all my Sisters wandring here?\nHauing a quiuer girded to her side,\nAnd cloathed in a spotted Leopards skin.\n\n_\u00c6n._ I neither saw nor heard of any such:\nBut what may I faire Virgin call your name?\nWhose lookes set forth no mortall forme to view,\nNor speech bewraies ought humaine in thy birth,\nThou art a Goddesse that delud'st our eyes,\nAnd shrowdes thy beautie in this borrowd shape;\nBut whether thou the Sunnes bright Sister be,\nOr one of chast _Dianas_ fellow Nimphs,\nLiue happie in the height of all content,\nAnd lighten our extreames with this one boone,\nAs to instruct us vnder what good heauen\nWe breathe as now, and what this world is calde,\nOn which by tempests furie we are cast,\nTell vs, O tell vs that are ignorant,\nAnd this right hand shall make thy Altars crack\nWith mountaine heapes of milke white Sacrifize.\n\n_Venus._ Such honour, stranger, doe I not affect:\nIt is the vse for Turen maides to weare\nTheir bowe and quiuer in this modest sort,\nAnd suite themselues in purple for the nonce,\nThat they may trip more lightly ore the lawndes,\nAnd ouertake the tusked Bore in chase.\nBut for the land whereof thou doest enquire,\nIt is the punick kingdome rich and strong,\nAdioyning on _Agenors_ stately towne,\nThe kingly seate of Southerne _Libia_,\nWhereas Sidonian _Dido_ rules as Queene.\nBut what are you that aske of me these things?\nWhence may you come, or whither will you goe?\n\n_\u00c6n._ Of _Troy_ am I, _\u00c6neas_ is my name,\nWho driuen by warre from forth my natiue world,\nPut sailes to sea to seeke out _Italy_;\nAnd my diuine descent from sceptred _Iove_,\nWith twise twelue Phrigian ships I plowed the deepe,\nAnd made that way my mother _Venus_ led:\nBut of them all scarce seuen doe anchor safe,\nAnd they so wrackt and weltred by the waues,\nAs euery tide tilts twixt their oken sides:\nAnd all of them vnburdened of their loade,\nAre ballassed with billowes watrie weight.\nBut haples I, God wot, poore and vnknowne,\nDoe trace these Libian deserts all despisde,\nExild forth _Europe_ and wide _Asia_ both,\nAnd haue not any couerture but heauen.\n\n_Venus._ Fortune hath fauord thee what ere thou be,\nIn sending thee vnto this curteous Coast:\nA Gods name on and hast thee to the Court,\nWhere _Dido_ will receiue ye with her smiles:\nAnd for thy ships which thou supposest lost,\nNot one of them hath perisht in the storme,\nBut are ariued safe not farre from hence:\nAnd so I leaue thee to thy fortunes lot,\nWishing good lucke vnto thy wandring steps.  _Exit_.\n\n_\u00c6n._ _Achates_, tis my mother that is fled,\nI know her by the mouings of her feete:\nStay gentle _Venus_, flye not from thy sonne,\nToo cruell, why wilt thou forsake me thus?\nOr in these shades deceiu'st mine eye so oft?\nWhy talke we not together hand in hand?\nAnd tell our griefes in more familiar termes:\nBut thou art gone and leau'st me here alone,\nTo dull the ayre with my discoursiue moane. _Exit_.\n\n_Enter Illioneus, and Cloanthes._\n\n_Illio._ Follow ye Troians, follow this braue Lord,\nAnd plaine to him the summe of your distresse.\n\n_Iar._ Why, what are you, or wherefore doe you sewe?\n\n_Illio._ Wretches of _Troy_, enuied of the windes,\nThat craue such fauour at your honors feete,\nAs poore distressed miserie may pleade:\nSaue, saue, O saue our ships from cruell fire,\nThat doe complaine the wounds of thousand waues,\nAnd spare our liues whom euery spite pursues.\nWe come not we to wrong your Libian Gods,\nOr steale your houshold lares from their shrines:\nOur hands are not prepar'd to lawles spoyle,\nNor armed to offend in any kind:\nSuch force is farre from our vnweaponed thoughts,\nWhose fading weale of victorie forsooke,\nForbids all hope to harbour neere our hearts.\n\n_Iar._ But tell me Troians, Troians if you be,\nVnto what fruitfull quarters were ye bound,\nBefore that _Boreas_ buckled with your sailes?\n\n_Cloan._ There is a place _Hesperia_ term'd by vs,\nAn ancient Empire, famoused for armes,\nAnd fertile in faire _Ceres_ furrowed wealth,\nWhich now we call _Italia_ of his name,\nThat in such peace long time did rule the same:\nThither made we,\nWhen suddenly gloomie _Orion_ rose,\nAnd led our ships into the shallow sands,\nWhereas the Southerne winde with brackish breath,\nDisperst them all amongst the wrackfull Rockes:\nFrom thence a fewe of vs escapt to land,\nThe rest we feare are foulded in the flouds.\n\n_Iar._ Braue men at armes, abandon fruitles feares,\nSince Carthage knowes to entertaine distresse.\n\n_Serg._ I but the barbarous sort doe threat our ships,\nAnd will not let vs lodge vpon the sands:\nIn multitudes they swarme vnto the shoare,\nAnd from the first earth interdict our feete.\n\n_Iar._ My selfe will see they shall not trouble ye,\nYour men and you shall banquet in our Court,\nAnd euery Troian be as welcome here,\nAs _Iupiter_ to sillie _Vausis_ house:\nCome in with me, Ile bring you to my Queene,\nWho shall confirme my words with further deedes.\n\n_Serg._ Thankes gentle Lord for such vnlookt for grace,\nMight we but once more see _\u00c6neas_ face,\nThen would we hope to quite such friendly turnes,\nAs shall surpasse the wonder of our speech.\n\n\n\n\nActus 2.\n\n\n_Enter \u00c6neas, Achates, and Ascanius._\n\n_\u00c6n._ Where am I now? these should be Carthage walles.\n\n_Acha._ Why stands my sweete _\u00c6neas_ thus amazde?\n\n_\u00c6n._ O my _Achates_, Theban _Niobe_,\nWho for her sonnes death wept out life and breath,\nAnd drie with griefe was turnd into a stone,\nHad not such passions in her head as I.\nMe thinkes that towne there should be _Troy_, yon _Idas_ hill,\nThere _Zanthus_ streame, because here's _Priamus_,\nAnd when I know it is not, then I dye.\n\n_Ach._ And in this humor is _Achates_ to,\nI cannot choose but fall vpon my knees,\nAnd kisse his hand: O where is _Hecuba_,\nHere she was wont to sit, but sauing ayre\nIs nothing here, and what is this but stone?\n\n_\u00c6n._ O yet this stone doth make _\u00c6neas_ weepe,\nAnd would my prayers (as _Pigmalions_ did)\nCould giue it life, that vnder his conduct\nWe might saile backe to _Troy_ and be reuengde\nOn these hard harted Grecians; which reioyce\nThat nothing now is left of _Priamus_:\nO _Priamus_ is left and this is he,\nCome, come abourd, pursue the hatefull Greekes.\n\n_Acha._ What means _\u00c6neas_?\n\n_\u00c6n._ _Achates_ though mine eyes say this is stone,\nYet thinkes my minde that this is _Priamus_:\nAnd when my grieued heart sighes and sayes no,\nThen would it leape out to giue _Priam_ life:\nO were I not at all so thou mightst be.\n_Achates_, see King _Priam_ wags his hand,\nHe is aliue, _Troy_ is not ouercome.\n\n_Ach._ Thy mind _\u00c6neas_ that would haue it so\nDeludes thy eye sight, _Priamus_ is dead.\n\n_\u00c6n._ Ah _Troy_ is sackt, and _Priamus_ is dead,\nAnd why should poore _\u00c6neas_ be aliue?\n\n_Asca._ Sweete father leaue to weepe, this is not he:\nFor were it _Priam_ he would smile on me.\n\n_Acha._ _\u00c6neas_ see here come the Citizens,\nLeaue to lament lest they laugh at our feares.\n\n_Enter Cloanthus, Sergestus, Illioneus._\n\n_\u00c6n._ Lords of this towne, or whatsoeuer stile\nBelongs vnto your name, vouchsafe of ruth\nTo tell vs who inhabits this faire towne,\nWhat kind of people, and who gouernes them:\nFor we are strangers driuen on this shore,\nAnd scarcely know within what Clime we are.\n\n_Illio._ I heare _\u00c6neas_ voyce, but see him not,\nFor none of these can be our Generall.\n\n_Acha._ Like _Illioneus_ speakes this Noble man,\nBut _Illioneus_ goes not in such robes.\n\n_Serg._ You are _Achates_, or I deciu'd.\n\n_Acha._ _\u00c6neas_ see _Sergestus_ or his ghost.\n\n_Illio._ He meanes _\u00c6neas_, let vs kisse his feete.\n\n_Cloan._ It is our Captaine, see _Ascanius_.\n\n_Serg._ Liue long _\u00c6neas_ and _Ascanius_.\n\n_\u00c6n._ _Achates_, speake, for I am ouerioyed.\n\n_Acha._ O _Illioneus_, art thou yet aliue?\n\n_Illio._ Blest be the time I see _Achates_ face.\n\n_Cloan._ Why turnes _\u00c6neas_ from his trustie friends?\n\n_\u00c6n._ _Sergestus_, _Illioneus_ and the rest,\nYour sight amazde me, O what destinies\nHaue brought my sweete companions in such plight?\nO tell me, for I long to be resolu'd.\n\n_Illio._ Louely _\u00c6neas_, these are Carthage walles,\nAnd here Queene _Dido_ weares th'imperiall Crowne,\nWho for _Troyes_ sake hath entertaind vs all,\nAnd clad vs in these wealthie robes we weare.\nOft hath she askt vs vnder whom we seru'd,\nAnd when we told her she would weepe for griefe,\nThinking the sea had swallowed vp thy ships,\nAnd now she sees thee how will she reioyce?\n\n_Serg._ See where her seruitors passe through the hall\nBearing a banket, _Dido_ is not farre.\n\n_Illio._ Looke where she comes: _\u00c6neas_ viewd her well.\n\n_\u00c6n._ Well may I view her, but she sees not me.\n\n_Enter Dido and her traine._\n\n_Dido._ What stranger art thou that doest eye me thus?\n\n_\u00c6n._ Sometime I was a Troian mightie Queene:\nBut _Troy_ is not, what shall I say I am?\n\n_Illio._ Renowmed _Dido_, tis our Generall: warlike _\u00c6neas_.\n\n_Dido._ Warlike _\u00c6neas_, and in these base robes?\nGoe fetch the garment which _Sicheus_ ware:\nBraue Prince, welcome to Carthage and to me,\nBoth happie that _\u00c6neas_ is our guest:\nSit in this chaire and banquet with a Queene,\n_\u00c6neas_ is _\u00c6neas_, were he clad\nIn weedes as bad as euer _Irus_ ware.\n\n_\u00c6n._ This is no seate for one thats comfortles,\nMay it please your grace to let _\u00c6neas_ waite:\nFor though my birth be great, my fortunes meane,\nToo meane to be companion to a Queene.\n\n_Dido._ Thy fortune may be greater then thy birth,\nSit downe _\u00c6neas_, sit in _Didos_ place,\nAnd if this be thy sonne as I suppose,\nHere let him sit, be merrie louely child.\n\n_\u00c6n._ This place beseemes me not, O pardon me.\n\n_Dido._ Ile haue it so, _\u00c6neas_ be content.\n\n_Asca._ Madame, you shall be my mother.\n\n_Dido._ And so I will sweete child: be merrie man,\nHeres to thy better fortune and good starres.\n\n_\u00c6n._ In all humilitie I thanke your grace.\n\n_Dido._ Remember who thou art, speake like thy selfe,\nHumilitie belongs to common groomes.\n\n_\u00c6n._ And who so miserable as _\u00c6neas_ is?\n\n_Dido._ Lyes it in _Didos_ hands to make thee blest,\nThen be assured thou art not miserable.\n\n_\u00c6n._ O _Priamus_, O _Troy_, oh _Hecuba_!\n\n_Dido._ May I entreate thee to discourse at large,\nAnd truely to how _Troy_ was ouercome:\nFor many tales goe of that Cities fall,\nAnd scarcely doe agree vpon one poynt:\nSome say _Antenor_ did betray the towne,\nOthers report twas _Sinons_ periurie:\nBut all in this that _Troy_ is ouercome,\nAnd _Priam_ dead, yet how we heare no newes.\n\n_\u00c6n._ A wofull tale bids _Dido_ to vnfould,\nWhose memorie like pale deaths stony mace,\nBeates forth my senses from this troubled soule,\nAnd makes _\u00c6neas_ sinke at _Didos_ feete.\n\n_Dido._ What faints _\u00c6neas_ to remember _Troy_?\nIn whose defence he fought so valiantly:\nLooke vp and speake.\n\n_\u00c6n._ Then speake _\u00c6neas_ with _Achilles_ tongue,\nAnd _Dido_ and you Carthaginian Peeres\nHeare me, but yet with _Mirmidons_ harsh eares,\nDaily inur'd to broyles and Massacres,\nLest you be mou'd too much with my sad tale.\nThe Grecian souldiers tired with ten yeares warre;\nBegan to crye, let vs vnto our ships,\n_Troy_ is inuincible, why stay we here?\nWith whose outcryes _Atrides_ being apal'd,\nSummoned the Captaines to his princely tent,\nWho looking on the scarres we Troians gaue,\nSeeing the number of their men decreast,\nAnd the remainder weake and out of heart,\nGaue vp their voyces to dislodge the Campe,\nAnd so in troopes all marcht to _Tenedos_:\nWhere when they came, _Vlysses_ on the sand\nAssayd with honey words to turne them backe:\nAnd as he spoke to further his entent,\nThe windes did driue huge billowes to the shoare,\nAnd heauen was darkned with tempestuous clowdes:\nThen he alleag'd the Gods would haue them stay,\nAnd prophecied _Troy_ should be ouercome:\nAnd therewithall he calde false _Sinon_ forth,\nA man compact of craft and periurie,\nWhose ticing tongue was made of _Hermes_ pipe,\nTo force an hundred watchfull eyes to sleepe:\nAnd him _Epeus_ hauing made the horse,\nWith sacrificing wreathes vpon his head,\n_Vlysses_ sent to our vnhappie towne:\nWho groueling in the mire of _Zanthus_ bankes,\nHis hands bound at his back, and both his eyes\nTurnd vp to heauen as one resolu'd to dye,\nOur Phrigian shepherd haled within the gates,\nAnd brought vnto the Court of _Priamus_:\nTo whom he vsed action so pitifull,\nLookes so remorcefull, vowes so forcible,\nAs therewithall the old man ouercome,\nKist him, imbrast him, and vnloosde his bands,\nAnd then, O _Dido_ pardon me.\n\n_Dido._ Nay leaue not here, resolue me of the rest.\n\n_\u00c6n._ O th'inchaunting words of that base slaue,\nMade him to thinke _Epeus_ pine-tree Horse\nA sacrifize t'appease _Mineruas_ wrath:\nThe rather for that one _Laocoon_\nBreaking a speare vpon his hollow breast,\nWas with two winged Serpents stung to death.\nWhereat agast, we were commanded straight\nWith reuerence to draw it into _Troy_.\nIn which vnhappie worke was I employd,\nThese hands did helpe to hale it to the gates,\nThrough which it could not enter twas so huge.\nO had it neuer entred, _Troy_ had stood.\nBut _Priamus_ impatient of delay,\nInforst a wide breach in that rampierd wall,\nWhich thousand battering Rams could neuer pierce,\nAnd so came in this fatall instrument:\nAt whose accursed feete as ouerioyed,\nWe banquetted till ouercome with wine,\nSome surfetted, and others soundly slept.\nWhich _Sinon_ viewing, causde the Greekish spyes\nTo hast to _Tenedos_ and tell the Campe:\nThen he vnlockt the Horse, and suddenly\nFrom out his entrailes, _Neoptolemus_\nSetting his speare vpon the ground, leapt forth,\nAnd after him a thousand Grecians more,\nIn whose sterne faces shin'd the quenchles fire,\nThat after burnt the pride of _Asia_.\nBy this the Campe was come vnto the walles,\nAnd through the breach did march into the streetes,\nWhere meeting with the rest, kill kill they cryed.\nFrighted with this confused noyse, I rose,\nAnd looking from a turret, might behold\nYong infants swimming in their parents bloud,\nHeadles carkasses piled vp in heapes,\nVirgins halfe dead dragged by their golden haire,\nAnd with maine force flung on a ring of pikes,\nOld men with swords thrust through their aged sides,\nKneeling for mercie to a Greekish lad,\nWho with steele Pol-axes dasht out their braines.\nThen buckled I mine armour, drew my sword,\nAnd thinking to goe downe, came _Hectors_ ghost\nWith ashie visage, blewish, sulphure eyes,\nHis armes torne from his shoulders, and his breast\nFurrowd with wounds, and that which made me weepe,\nThongs at his heeles, by which _Achilles_ horse\nDrew him in triumph through the Greekish Campe,\nBurst from the earth, crying, _\u00c6neas_ flye,\n_Troy_ is a fire, the Grecians haue the towne,\n\n_Dido._ O _Hector_ who weepes not to heare thy name?\n\n_\u00c6n._ Yet flung I forth, and desperate of my life,\nRan in the thickest throngs, and with this sword\nSent many of their sauadge ghosts to hell.\nAt last came _Pirrhus_ fell and full of ire.\nHis harnesse dropping bloud, and on his speare\nThe mangled head of _Priams_ yongest sonne,\nAnd after him his band of Mirmidons,\nWith balles of wilde fire in their murdering pawes,\nWhich made the funerall flame that burnt faire _Troy_:\nAll which hemd me about, crying, this is he.\n\n_Dido._ Ah, how could poore _\u00c6neas_ scape their hands?\n\n_\u00c6n._ My mother _Venus_ iealous of my health,\nConuaid me from their crooked nets and bands:\nSo I escapt the furious _Pirrhus_ wrath:\nWho then ran to the pallace of the King,\nAnd at _Ioues_ Altar finding _Priamus_,\nAbout whose withered necke hung _Hecuba_,\nFoulding his hand in hers, and ioyntly both\nBeating their breasts and falling on the ground,\nHe with his faulchions poynt raisde vp at once,\nAnd with _Megeras_ eyes stared in their face,\nThreatning a thousand deaths at euery glaunce.\nTo whom the aged King thus trembling spoke:\n_Achilles_ sonne, remember what I was,\nFather of fiftie sonnes, but they are slaine,\nLord of my fortune, but my fortunes turnd,\nKing of this Citie, but my _Troy_ is fired,\nAnd now am neither father, Lord, nor King:\nYet who so wretched but desires to liue?\nO let me liue, great _Neoptolemus_,\nNot mou'd at all, but smiling at his teares,\nThis butcher whil'st his hands were yet held vp,\nTreading vpon his breast, strooke off his hands.\n\n_Dido._ O end _\u00c6neas_, I can heare no more.\n\n_\u00c6n._ At which the franticke Queene leapt on his face,\nAnd in his eyelids hanging by the nayles,\nA little while prolong'd her husbands life:\nAt last the souldiers puld her by the heeles,\nAnd swong her howling in the emptie ayre,\nWhich sent an eccho to the wounded King:\nWhereat he lifted vp his bedred lims,\nAnd would haue grappeld with _Achilles_ sonne,\nForgetting both his want of strength and hands,\nWhich he disdaining whiskt his sword about,\nAnd with the wound thereof the King fell downe:\nThen from the nauell to the throat at once,\nHe ript old _Priam_: at whose latter gaspe\n_Ioues_ marble statue gan to bend the brow,\nAs lothing _Pirrhus_ for this wicked act:\nYet he vndaunted tooke his fathers flagge,\nAnd dipt it in the old Kings chill cold bloud,\nAnd then in triumph ran into the streetes,\nThrough which he could not passe for slaughtred men:\nSo leaning on his sword he stood stone still,\nViewing the fire wherewith rich _Ilion_ burnt.\nBy this I got my father on my backe,\nThis yong boy in mine armes, and by the hand\nLed faire _Creusa_ my beloued wife,\nWhen thou _Achates_ with thy sword mad'st way,\nAnd we were round inuiron'd with the Greekes:\nO there I lost my wife: and had not we\nFought manfully, I had not told this tale:\nYet manhood would not serue, of force we fled,\nAnd as we went vnto our ships, thou knowest\nWe sawe _Cassandra_ sprauling in the streetes,\nWhom _Aiax_ rauisht in _Dianas_ Fawne,\nHer cheekes swolne with sighes, her haire all rent,\nWhom I tooke vp to beare vnto our ships;\nBut suddenly the Grecians followed vs,\nAnd I alas, was forst to let her lye.\nThen got we to our ships, and being abourd,\n_Polixena_ cryed out, _\u00c6neas_ stay,\nThe Greekes pursue me, stay and take me in.\nMoued with her voyce, I lept into the sea,\nThinking to beare her on my backe abourd:\nFor all our ships were launcht into the deepe,\nAnd as I swomme, she standing on the shoare,\nWas by the cruell Mirmidons surprizd,\nAnd after by that _Pirrhus_ sacrifizde.\n\n_Dido._ I dye with melting ruth, _\u00c6neas_ leaue.\n\n_Anna._ O what became of aged _Hecuba_?\n\n_Iar._ How got _\u00c6neas_ to the fleete againe?\n\n_Dido._ But how scapt _Helen_, she that causde this warre?\n\n_\u00c6n._ _Achates_ speake, sorrow hath tired me quite.\n\n_Acha._ What happened to the Queene we cannot shewe,\nWe heare they led her captiue into Greece,\nAs for _\u00c6neas_ he swomme quickly backe,\nAnd _Helena_ betraied _Diiphobus_\nHer Louer, after _Alexander_ dyed,\nAnd so was reconcil'd to _Menelaus_.\n\n_Dido._ O had that ticing strumpet nere been borne:\nTroian, thy ruthfull tale hath made me sad:\nCome let vs thinke vpon some pleasing sport,\nTo rid me from these melancholly thoughts.\n\n_Exeunt omnes._\n\n_Enter Venus at another doore, and takes Ascanius by the sleeve._\n\n_Venus._ Faire child stay thou with _Didos_ waiting maide,\nIle giue thee Sugar-almonds, sweete Conserues,\nA siluer girdle, and a golden purse,\nAnd this yong Prince shall be thy playfellow.\n\n_Asca._ Are you Queene _Didos_ sonne?\n\n_Cupid._ I, and my mother gaue me this fine bow.\n\n_Asca._ Shall I haue such a quiuer and a bow?\n\n_Venus._ Such bow, such quiuer, and such golden shafts,\nWill _Dido_ giue to sweete _Ascanius_:\nFor _Didos_ sake I take thee in my armes,\nAnd sticke these spangled feathers in thy hat,\nEate Comfites in mine armes, and I will sing.\nNow is he fast asleepe, and in this groue\nAmongst greene brakes Ile lay _Ascanius_,\nAnd strewe him with sweete smelling Violets,\nBlushing Roses, purple _Hyacinthe_:\nThese milke white Doues shall be his Centronels:\nWho if that any seeke to doe him hurt,\nWill quickly flye to _Citheidas_ fist.\nNow _Cupid_ turne thee to _Ascanius_ shape,\nAnd goe to _Dido_ who in stead of him\nWill set thee on her lap and play with thee:\nThen touch her white breast with this arrow head,\nThat she may dote vpon _\u00c6neas_ loue:\nAnd by that meanes repaire his broken ships,\nVictuall his Souldiers, giue him wealthie gifts,\nAnd he at last depart to _Italy_,\nOr els in _Carthage_ make his kingly throne.\n\n_Cupid._ I will faire mother, and so play my part,\nAs euery touch shall wound Queene _Didos_ heart.\n\n_Venus._ Sleepe my sweete nephew in these cooling shades,\nFree from the murmure of these running streames,\nThe crye of beasts, the ratling of the windes,\nOr whisking of these leaues, all shall be still,\nAnd nothing interrupt thy quiet sleepe,\nTill I returne and take thee hence againe.  _Exit._\n\n\n\n\nActus 3. Scena I.\n\n\n_Enter Cupid solus._\n\n_Cupid._ Now _Cupid_ cause the Carthaginian Queene,\nTo be inamourd of thy brothers lookes,\nConuey this golden arrowe in thy sleeue,\nLest she imagine thou art _Venus_ sonne:\nAnd when she strokes thee softly on the head,\nThen shall I touch her breast and conquer her.\n\n_Enter Iarbus, Anna, and Dido._\n\n_Iar._ How long faire _Dido_ shall I pine for thee?\nTis not enough that thou doest graunt me loue,\nBut that I may enioy what I desire:\nThat loue is childish which consists in words.\n\n_Dido._ _Iarbus_, know that thou of all my wooers\n(And yet haue I had many mightier Kings)\nHast had the greatest fauours I could giue:\nI feare me _Dido_ hath been counted light,\nIn being too familiar with _Iarbus_:\nAlbeit the Gods doe know no wanton thought\nHad euer residence in _Didos_ breast.\n\n_Iar._ But _Dido_ is the fauour I request.\n\n_Dido._ Feare not _Iarbus_, _Dido_ may be thine.\n\n_Anna._ Looke sister how _\u00c6neas_ little sonne\nPlayes with your garments and imbraceth you.\n\n_Cupid._ No _Dido_ will not take me in her armes,\nI shall not be her sonne, she loues me not.\n\n_Dido._ Weepe not sweet boy, thou shalt be _Didos_ sonne,\nSit in my lap and let me heare thee sing.\nNo more my child, now talke another while,\nAnd tell me where learnst thou this pretie song?\n\n_Cupid._ My cosin _Helen_ taught it me in _Troy_.\n\n_Dido._ How louely is _Ascanius_ when he smiles?\n\n_Cupid._ Will _Dido_ let me hang about her necke?\n\n_Dido._ I wagge, and giue thee leaue to kisse her to.\n\n_Cupid._ What will you giue me? now Ile haue this Fanne.\n\n_Dido._ Take it _Ascanius_, for thy fathers sake.\n\n_Iar._ Come _Dido_, leaue _Ascanius_, let vs walke.\n\n_Dido._ Goe thou away, _Ascanius_ shall stay.\n\n_Iar._ Vngentle Queene, is this thy loue to me?\n\n_Dido._ O stay _Iarbus_, and Ile goe with thee.\n\n_Cupid._ And if my mother goe, Ile follow her.\n\n_Dido._ Why staiest thou here? thou art no loue of mine?\n\n_Iar._ _Iarbus_ dye, seeing she abandons thee.\n\n_Dido._ No, liue _Iarbus_, what hast thou deseru'd,\nThat I should say thou art no loue of mine?\nSomething thou hast deseru'd, away I say,\nDepart from _Carthage_, come not in my sight.\n\n_Iar._ Am I not King of rich _Getulia_?\n\n_Dido._ _Iarbus_ pardon me, and stay a while.\n\n_Cupid._ Mother, looke here.\n\n_Dido._ What telst thou me of rich _Getulia_?\nAm not I Queene of _Libia_? then depart.\n\n_Iar._ I goe to feed the humour of my Loue,\nYet not from _Carthage_ for a thousand worlds.\n\n_Dido._ _Iarbus_.\n\n_Iar._ Doth _Dido_ call me backe?\n\n_Dido._ No, but I charge thee neuer looke on me.\n\n_Iar._ Then pull out both mine eyes, or let me dye. _Exit Iarb._\n\n_Anna._ Wherefore doth _Dido_ bid _Iarbus_ goe?\n\n_Dido._ Because his lothsome sight offends mine eye,\nAnd in my thoughts is shrin'd another loue:\nO _Anna_, didst thou know how sweet loue were,\nFull soone wouldst thou abiure this single life.\n\n_Anna._ Poore soule I know too well the sower of loue,\nO that _Iarbus_ could but fancie me.\n\n_Dido._ Is not _\u00c6neas_ faire and beautifull?\n\n_Anna._ Yes, and _Iarbus_ foule and fauourles.\n\n_Dido._ Is he not eloquent in all his speech?\n\n_Anna._ Yes, and _Iarbus_ rude and rusticall.\n\n_Dido._ Name not _Iarbus_, but sweete _Anna_ say,\nIs not _\u00c6neas_ worthie _Didos_ loue?\n\n_Anna._ O sister, were you Empresse of the world,\n_\u00c6neas_ well deserues to be your loue,\nSo lovely is he that where ere he goes,\nThe people swarme to gaze him in the face.\n\n_Dido._ But tell them none shall gaze on him but I,\nLest their grosse eye-beames taint my louers cheekes:\n_Anna_, good sister _Anna_ goe for him,\nLest with these sweete thoughts I melt cleane away.\n\n_Anna._ Then sister youle abiure _Iarbus_ loue?\n\n_Dido._ Yet must I heare that lothsome name againe?\nRunne for _\u00c6neas_, or Ile flye to him. _Exit Anna._\n\n_Cupid._ You shall not hurt my father when he comes.\n\n_Dido._ No, for thy sake Ile loue thy father well.\nO dull conceipted _Dido_, that till now\nDidst neuer thinke _\u00c6neas_ beautifull:\nBut now for quittance of this ouersight,\nIle make me bracelets of his golden haire,\nHis glistering eyes shall be my looking glasse,\nHis lips an altar, where Ile offer vp\nAs many kisses as the Sea hath sands,\nIn stead of musicke I will heare him speake,\nHis lookes shall be my only Librarie,\nAnd thou _\u00c6neas, Didos_ treasurie,\nIn whose faire bosome I will locke more wealth,\nThen twentie thousand Indiaes can affoord:\nO here he comes, loue, loue, giue _Dido_ leaue\nTo be more modest then her thoughts admit,\nLest I be made a wonder to the world.\n_Achates_, how doth _Carthage_ please your Lord?\n\n_Acha._ That will _\u00c6neas_ shewe your maiestie.\n\n_Dido._ _\u00c6neas_ art thou there?\n\n_\u00c6n._ I vnderstand your highnesse sent for me.\n\n_Dido._ No, but now thou art here, tell me in sooth,\nIn what might _Dido_ highly pleasure thee.\n\n_\u00c6n._ So much haue I receiu'd at _Didos_ hands,\nAs without blushing I can aske no more:\nYet Queene of _Affricke_, are my ships vnrigd,\nMy Sailes all rent in sunder with the winde,\nMy Oares broken, and my Tackling lost,\nYea all my Nauie split with Rockes and Shelfes:\nNor Sterne nor Anchor haue our maimed Fleete,\nOur Masts the furious windes strooke ouer bourd:\nWhich piteous wants if _Dido_ will supplie,\nWe will account her author of our liues.\n\n_Dido._  _\u00c6neas_, Ile repaire thy Troian ships,\nConditionally that thou wilt stay with me,\nAnd let _Achates_ saile to _Italy_:\nIle giue thee tackling made of riueld gold,\nWound on the barkes of odoriferous trees,\nOares of massie Iuorie full of holes,\nThrough which the water shall delight to play:\nThy Anchors shall be hewed from Christall Rockes,\nWhich if thou lose shall shine aboue the waues;\nThe Masts whereon thy swelling sailes shall hang,\nHollow Pyramides of siluer plate:\nThe sailes of foulded Lawne, where shall be wrought\nThe warres of _Troy_, but not _Troyes_ ouerthrow:\nFor ballace, emptie _Didos_ treasurie,\nTake what ye will, but leaue _\u00c6neas_ here.\n_Achates_, thou shalt be so meanly clad,\nAs Seaborne Nymphes shall swarme about thy ships,\nAnd wanton Mermaides court thee with sweete songs,\nFlinging in fauours of more soueraigne worth,\nThen _Thetis_ hangs about _Apolloes_ necke,\nSo that _\u00c6neas_ may but stay with me.\n\n_\u00c6n._ Wherefore would _Dido_ haue _\u00c6neas_ stay?\n\n_Dido._ To warre against my bordering enemies:\n_\u00c6neas_, thinke not _Dido_ is in loue:\nFor if that any man could conquer me,\nI had been wedded ere _\u00c6neas_ came:\nSee where the pictures of my suiters hang,\nAnd are not these as faire as faire may be?\n\n_Acha._ I saw this man at _Troy_ ere _Troy_ was sackt.\n\n_\u00c6n._ I this in _Greece_ when _Paris_ stole faire _Helen_.\n\n_Illio._ This man and I were at _Olympus_ games.\n\n_Serg._ I know this face, he is a Persian borne,\nI traueld with him to _\u00c6tolia_.\n\n_Cloan._ And I in _Athens_ with this gentleman,\nVnlesse I be deceiu'd disputed once.\n\n_Dido._ But speake _\u00c6neas_, know you none of these?\n\n_\u00c6n._ No Madame, but it seemes that these are Kings.\n\n_Dido._ All these and others which I neuer sawe,\nHaue been most vrgent suiters for my loue,\nSome came in person, others sent their Legats:\nYet none obtaind me, I am free from all,\nAnd yet God knowes intangled vnto one.\nThis was an Orator, and thought by words\nTo compasse me, but yet he was deceiu'd:\nAnd this a Spartan Courtier vaine and wilde,\nBut his fantastick humours pleasde not me:\nThis was _Alcion_, a Musition,\nBut playd he nere so sweet, I let him goe:\nThis was the wealthie King of _Thessaly_,\nBut I had gold enough and cast him off:\nThis _Meleagers_ sonne, a warlike Prince,\nBut weapons gree not with my tender yeares:\nThe rest are such as all the world well knowes,\nYet how I sweare by heauen and him I loue,\nI was as farre from loue, as they from hate.\n\n_\u00c6n._ O happie shall he be whom _Dido_ loues.\n\n_Dido._ Then neuer say that thou art miserable,\nBecause it may be thou shalt be my loue:\nYet boast not of it, for I loue thee not,\nAnd yet I hate thee not: O if I speake\nI shall betray my selfe: _\u00c6neas_ speake,\nWe two will goe a hunting in the woods,\nBut not so much for thee, thou art but one,\nAs for _Achates_, and his followers.   _Exeunt._\n\n_Enter Iuno to Ascanius asleepe._\n\n_Iuno._ Here lyes my hate, _\u00c6neas_ cursed brat,\nThe boy wherein false destinie delights,\nThe heire of furie, the fauorite of the face,\nThat vgly impe that shall outweare my wrath,\nAnd wrong my deitie with high disgrace:\nBut I will take another order now,\nAnd race th'eternall Register of time:\n_Troy_ shall no more call him her second hope,\nNor _Venus_ triumph in his tender youth:\nFor here in spight of heauen Ile murder him,\nAnd feede infection with his left out life:\nSay _Paris_, now shall _Venus_ haue the ball?\nSay vengeance, now shall her _Ascanius_ dye.\nO no God wot, I cannot watch my time,\nNor quit good turnes with double fee downe told:\nTut, I am simple without made to hurt,\nAnd haue no gall at all to grieue my foes:\nBut lustfull _Ioue_ and his adulterous child,\nShall finde it written on confusions front,\nThat onely _Iuno_ rules in _Rhamnuse_ towne.\n\n_Enter Venus._\n\n_Venus._ What should this meane? my Doues are back returnd,\nWho warne me of such daunger prest at hand,\nTo harme my sweete _Ascanius_ louely life.\n_Iuno_, my mortall foe, what make you here?\nAuaunt old witch and trouble not my wits.\n\n_Iuno._ Fie _Venus_, that such causeles words of wrath,\nShould ere defile so faire a mouth as thine:\nAre not we both sprong of celestiall rase,\nAnd banquet as two Sisters with the Gods?\nWhy is it then displeasure should disioyne,\nWhom kindred and acquaintance counites.\n\n_Venus._ Out hatefull hag, thou wouldst haue slaine my sonne,\nHad not my Doues discou'rd thy entent:\nBut I will teare thy eyes fro forth thy head,\nAnd feast the birds with their bloud-shotten balles,\nIf thou but lay thy fingers on my boy.\n\n_Iuno._ Is this then all the thankes that I shall haue,\nFor sauing him from Snakes and Serpents stings,\nThat would haue kild him sleeping as he lay?\nWhat though I was offended with thy sonne,\nAnd wrought him mickle woe on sea and land,\nWhen for the hate of Troian _Ganimed_,\nThat was aduanced by my _Hebes_ shame,\nAnd _Paris_ iudgement of the heauenly ball,\nI mustred all the windes vnto his wracke,\nAnd vrg'd each Element to his annoy:\nYet now I doe repent me of his ruth,\nAnd wish that I had neuer wrongd him so:\nBootles I sawe it was to warre with fate,\nThat hath so many vnresisted friends:\nWherefore I chaunge my counsell with the time,\nAnd planted loue where enuie erst had sprong.\n\n_Venus._ Sister of _Ioue_, if that thy loue be such,\nAs these thy protestations doe paint forth,\nWe two as friends one fortune will deuide:\n_Cupid_ shall lay his arrowes in thy lap,\nAnd to a Scepter chaunge his golden shafts,\nFancie and modestie shall liue as mates,\nAnd thy faire peacockes by my pigeons pearch:\nLoue my _\u00c6neas_, and desire is thine,\nThe day, the night, my Swannes, my sweetes are thine.\n\n_Iuno._ More then melodious are these words to me,\nThat ouercioy my soule with their content:\n_Venus_, sweete _Venus_, how may I deserue\nSuch amourous fauours at thy beautious hand?\nBut that thou maist more easilie perceiue,\nHow highly I doe prize this amitie,\nHarke to a motion of eternall league,\nWhich I will make in quittance of thy loue:\nThy sonne thou knowest with _Dido_ now remaines,\nAnd feedes his eyes with fauours of her Court,\nShe likewise in admyring spends her time,\nAnd cannot talke nor thinke of ought but him:\nWhy should not they then ioyne in marriage,\nAnd bring forth mightie Kings to Carthage towne,\nWhom casualtie of sea hath made such friends?\nAnd _Venus_, let there be a match confirmd\nBetwixt these two, whose loues are so alike,\nAnd both our Deities conioynd in one,\nShall chaine felicitie vnto their throne.\n\n_Venus._ Well could I like this reconcilements meanes,\nBut much I feare my sonne will nere consent,\nWhose armed soule alreadie on the sea,\nDarts forth her light to _Lauinias_ shoare.\n\n_Iuno._ Faire Queene of loue, I will deuorce these doubts,\nAnd finde the way to wearie such fond thoughts:\nThis day they both a hunting forth will ride\nInto these woods, adioyning to these walles,\nWhen in the midst of all their gamesome sports,\nIle make the Clowdes dissolue their watrie workes,\nAnd drench _Siluanus_ dwellings with their shewers,\nThen in one Caue the Queene and he shall meete,\nAnd interchangeably discourse their thoughts,\nWhose short conclusion will seale vp their hearts,\nVnto the purpose which we now propound.\n\n_Venus._ Sister, I see you sauour of my wiles,\nBe it as you will haue for this once,\nMeane time, _Ascanius_ shall be my charge,\nWhom I will beare to _Ida_ in mine armes,\nAnd couch him in _Adonis_ purple downe, _Exeunt._\n\n_Enter Dido, \u00c6neas, Anna, Iarbus, Achates, and followers._\n\n_Dido._ _\u00c6neas_, thinke not but I honor thee,\nThat thus in person goe with thee to hunt:\nMy princely robes thou seest are layd aside,\nWhose glittering pompe _Dianas_ shrowdes supplies,\nAll fellowes now disposde alike to sporte,\nThe woods are wide, and we haue store of game:\nFaire Troian, hold my golden bowe awhile,\nVntill I gird my quiuer to my side:\nLords goe before, we two must talke alone.\n\n_Iar._ Vngentle, can she wrong _Iarbus_ so?\nIle dye before a stranger haue that grace:\nWe two will talke alone, what words be these?\n\n_Dido._ What makes _Iarbus_ here of all the rest?\nWe could haue gone without your companie.\n\n_\u00c6n._ But loue and duetie led him on perhaps,\nTo presse beyond acceptance to your sight.\n\n_Iar._ Why man of _Troy_, doe I offend thine eyes?\nOr art thou grieude thy betters presse so nye?\n\n_Dido._ How now Getulian, are ye growne so braue,\nTo challenge vs with your comparisons?\nPesant, goe seeke companions like thy selfe,\nAnd meddle not with any that I loue:\n_\u00c6neas_, be not moude at what he sayes,\nFor otherwhile he will be out of ioynt.\n\n_Iar._ Women may wrong by priuiledge of loue:\nBut should that man of men (_Dido_ except)\nHaue taunted me in these opprobrious termes,\nI would haue either drunke his dying bloud,\nOr els I would haue giuen my life in gage?\n\n_Dido._ Huntsmen, why pitch you not your toyles apace,\nAnd rowse the light foote Deere from forth their laire.\n\n_Anna._ Sister, see see _Ascanius_ in his pompe,\nBearing his huntspeare brauely in his hand.\n\n_Dido._ Yea little sonne, are you so forward now?\n\n_Asca._ I mother, I shall one day be a man,\nAnd better able vnto other armes,\nMeane time these wanton weapons serue my warre,\nWhich I will breake betwixt a Lyons iawes.\n\n_Dido._ What, darest thou looke a Lyon in the face?\n\n_Asca._ I, and outface him to, doe what he can.\n\n_Anna._ How like his father speaketh he in all?\n\n_\u00c6n._ And mought I liue to see him sacke rich _Thebes_,\nAnd loade his speare with Grecian Princes heads,\nThen would I wish me with _Anchises_ Tombe,\nAnd dead to honour that hath brought me vp.\n\n_Iar._ And might I liue to see thee shipt away,\nAnd hoyst aloft on _Neptunes_ hideous hilles,\nThen would I wish me in faire _Didos_ armes,\nAnd dead to scorne that hath pursued me so.\n\n_\u00c6n._ Stoute friend _Achates_, doest thou know this wood?\n\n_Acha._ As I remember, here you shot the Deere,\nThat sau'd your famisht souldiers liues from death,\nWhen first you set your foote vpon the shoare,\nAnd here we met fair _Venus_ virgine like,\nBearing her bowe and quiuer at her backe.\n\n_\u00c6n._ O how these irksome labours now delight,\nAnd ouerioy my thoughts with their escape:\nWho would not vndergoe all kind of toyle,\nTo be well stor'd with such a winters tale?\n\n_Dido._ _\u00c6neas_, leaue these dumpes and lets away,\nSome to the mountaines, some vnto the soyle,\nYou to the vallies, thou vnto the house.\n\n_Exeunt omnes: manent._\n\n_Iar._ I, this it is which wounds me to the death,\nTo see a Phrigian far fet to the sea,\nPreferd before a man of maiestie:\nO loue, O hate, O cruell womens hearts,\nThat imitate the Moone in euery chaunge,\nAnd like the Planets euer loue to raunge:\nWhat shall I doe thus wronged with disdaine?\nReuenge me on _\u00c6neas_, or on her:\nOn her? fond man, that were to warre gainst heauen,\nAnd with one shaft prouoke ten thousand darts:\nThis Troians end will be thy enuies aime,\nWhose bloud will reconcile thee to content,\nAnd make loue drunken with thy sweete desire:\nBut _Dido_ that now holdeth him so deare,\nWill dye with very tidings of his death:\nBut time will discontinue her content,\nAnd mould her minde vnto newe fancies shapes:\nO God of heauen, turne the hand of fate\nVnto that happie day of my delight,\nAnd then, what then? _Iarbus_ shall but loue:\nSo doth he now, though not with equall gaine,\nThat resteth in the riuall of thy paine,\nWho nere will cease to soare till he be slaine. _Exit._\n\n_The storme. Enter \u00c6neas and Dido in the Caue at seuerall times._\n\n_Dido._ _\u00c6neas._\n\n_\u00c6n._ _Dido._\n\n_Dido._ Tell me deare loue, how found you out this Caue?\n\n_\u00c6n._ By chance sweete Queene, as _Mars_ and _Venus_ met.\n\n_Dido._ Why, that was in a net, where we are loose,\nAnd yet I am not free, oh would I were.\n\n_\u00c6n._ Why, what is it that _Dido_ may desire\nAnd not obtaine, be it in humaine power?\n\n_Dido._ The thing that I will dye before I aske,\nAnd yet desire to haue before I dye.\n\n_\u00c6n._ It is not ought _\u00c6neas_ may achieue?\n\n_Dido._ _\u00c6neas_ no, although his eyes doe pearce.\n\n_\u00c6n._ What, hath _Iarbus_ angred her in ought?\nAnd will she be auenged on his life?\n\n_Dido._ Not angred me, except in angring thee.\n\n_\u00c6n._ Who then of all so cruell may he be,\nThat should detaine thy eye in his defects?\n\n_Dido._ The man that I doe eye where ere I am,\nWhose amorous face like _Pean_ sparkles fire,\nWhen as he buts his beames on _Floras_ bed,\n_Prometheus_ hath put on _Cupids_ shape,\nAnd I must perish in his burning armes:\n_\u00c6neas_, O _\u00c6neas_, quench these flames.\n\n_\u00c6n._ What ailes my Queene, is she falne sicke of late?\n\n_Dido._ Not sicke my loue, but sicke, I must conceale\nThe torment, that it bootes me not reueale;\nAnd yet Ile speake, and yet Ile hold my peace,\nDoe shame her worst, I will disclose my griefe:\n_\u00c6neas_, thou art he, what did I say?\nSomething it was that now I haue forgot.\n\n_\u00c6n._ What meanes faire _Dido_ by this doubtfull speech?\n\n_Dido._ Nay, nothing, but _\u00c6neas_ loues me not.\n\n_\u00c6n._ _\u00c6neas_ thoughts dare not ascend so high\nAs _Didos_ heart, which Monarkes might not scale.\n\n_Dido._ It was because I sawe no King like thee,\nWhose golden Crowne might ballance my content:\nBut now that I haue found what to effect,\nI followe one that loueth fame for me,\nAnd rather had seeme faire _Sirens_ eyes,\nThen to the Carthage Queene that dyes for him.\n\n_\u00c6n._ If that your maiestie can looke so lowe,\nAs my despised worths, that shun all praise,\nWith this my hand I giue to you my heart,\nAnd vow by all the Gods of Hospitalitie,\nBy heauen and earth, and my faire brothers bowe,\nBy _Paphos_, _Capys_, and the purple Sea,\nFrom whence my radiant mother did descend,\nAnd by this Sword that saued me from the Greekes,\nNeuer to leaue these newe vpreared walles,\nWhiles _Dido_ liues and rules in _Iunos_ towne,\nNeuer to like or loue any but her.\n\n_Dido._ What more then delian musicke doe I heare,\nThat calles my soule from forth his liuing seate,\nTo moue vnto the measures of delight:\nKind clowdes that sent forth such a curteous storme,\nAs made disdaine to flye to fancies lap:\nStoute loue in mine armes make thy _Italy_,\nWhose Crowne and kingdome rests at thy commande.\n_Sicheus_, not _\u00c6neas_ be thou calde:\nThe King of _Carthage_, not _Anchises_ sonne:\nHold, take these Iewels at thy Louers hand,\nThese golden bracelets, and this wedding ring,\nWherewith my husband woo'd me yet a maide,\nAnd be thou king of _Libia_, by my guift.\n\n_Exeunt to the Caue._\n\n\n\n\nActus 4. Scena 1.\n\n\n_Enter Achates, Ascanius, Iarbus, and Anna._\n\n_Acha._ Did euer men see such a sudden storme?\nOr day so cleere so suddenly orecast?\n\n_Iar._ I thinke some fell Inchantresse dwelleth here,\nThat can call them forth when as she please,\nAnd diue into blacke tempests treasurie,\nWhen as she mcanes to maske the world with clowdes.\n\n_Anna._ In all my life I neuer knew the like,\nIt haild, it snowde, it lightned all at once.\n\n_Acha._ I thinke it was the diuels reuelling night,\nThere was such hurly burly in the heauens:\nDoubtles _Apollos_ Axeltree is crackt,\nOr aged _Atlas_ shoulder out of ioynt,\nThe motion was soouer violent.\n\n_Iar._ In all this coyle, where haue ye left the Queene?\n\n_Asca._ Nay, where is my warlike father, can you tell?\n\n_Anna._ Behold where both of them come forth the Caue.\n\n_Iar._ Come forth the Caue: can heauen endure this sight?\n_Iarbus_, curse that vnreuenging _Ioue_,\nWhose flintie darts slept in _Tiphous_ den,\nWhiles these adulterers surfetted with sinne:\nNature, why mad'st me not some poysonous beast,\nThat with the sharpnes of my edged sting,\nI might haue stakte them both vnto the earth,\nWhil'st they were sporting in this darksome Caue?\n\n_\u00c6n._ The ayre is cleere, and Southerne windes are whist,\nCome _Dido_, let vs hasten to the towne,\nSince gloomie _\u00c6olus_ doth cease to frowne.\n\n_Dido._ _Achates_ and _Ascanius_, well met.\n\n_\u00c6n._ Faire _Anna_, how escapt you from the shower?\n\n_Anna._ As others did, by running to the wood.\n\n_Dido._ But where were you _Iarbus_ all this while?\n\n_Iar._ Not with _\u00c6neas_ in the vgly Caue.\n\n_Dido._ I see _\u00c6neas_ sticketh in your minde,\nBut I will soone put by that stumbling blocke,\nAnd quell those hopes that thus employ your cares. _Exeunt._\n\n_Enters Iarbus to Sacrifice._\n\n_Iar._ Come seruants, come bring forth the Sacrifize,\nThat I may pacifie that gloomie _Ioue_,\nWhose emptie Altars haue enlarg'd our illes.\nEternall _Ioue_, great master of the Clowdes,\nFather of gladnesse, and all frollicke thoughts,\nThat with thy gloomie hand corrects the heauen,\nWhen ayrie creatures warre amongst themselues:\nHeare, heare, O heare _Iarbus_ plaining prayers,\nWhose hideous ecchoes make the welkin howle,\nAnd all the woods _Eliza_ to resound:\nThe woman that thou wild vs entertaine,\nWhere straying in our borders vp and downe,\nShe crau'd a hide of ground to build a towne,\nWith whom we did deuide both lawes and land,\nAnd all the fruites that plentie els sends forth,\nScorning our loues and royall marriage rites,\nYeelds vp her beautie to a strangers bed,\nWho hauing wrought her shame, is straight way fled:\nNow if thou beest a pitying God of power,\nOn whom ruth and compassion euer waites,\nRedresse these wrongs, and warne him to his ships,\nThat now afflicts me with his flattering eyes.\n\n_Enter Anna._\n\n_Anna._ How now _Iarbus_, at your prayers so hard?\n\n_Iar._ I _Anna_, is there ought you would with me?\n\n_Anna._ Nay, no such waightie busines of import,\nBut may be slackt vntill another time:\nYet if you would partake with me the cause\nOf this deuotion that detaineth you,\nI would be thankfull for such curtesie.\n\n_Iar._ _Anna_, against this Troian doe I pray,\nWho seekes to rob me of thy Sisters loue,\nAnd dive into her heart by coloured lookes.\n\n_Anna._ Alas poore King that labours so in vaine.\nFor her that so delighteth in thy paine:\nBe rul'd by me, and seeke some other loue,\nWhose yeelding heart may yeeld thee more reliefe.\n\n_Iar._ Mine eye is fixt where fancie cannot start,\nO leaue me, leaue me to my silent thoughts,\nThat register the numbers of my ruth,\nAnd I will either moue the thoughtles flint,\nOr drop out both mine eyes in drisling teares,\nBefore my sorrowes tide haue any stint.\n\n_Anna._ I will not leaue _Iarbus_ whom I loue,\nIn this delight of dying pensiuenes:\nAway with _Dido_, _Anna_ be thy song,\n_Anna_ that doth admire thee more then heauen.\n\n_Iar._ I may nor will list to such loathsome chaunge,\nThat intercepts the course of my desire:\nSeruants, come fetch these emptie vessels here,\nFor I will flye from these alluring eyes,\nThat doe pursue my peace where ere it goes. _Exit._\n\n_Anna._ _Iarbus_ stay, louing _Iarbus_ stay,\nFor I haue honey to present thee with:\nHard hearted, wilt not deigne to heare me speake,\nIle follow thee with outcryes nere the lesse,\nAnd strewe thy walkes with my discheueld haire. _Exit._\n\n_Enter \u00c6neas alone._\n\n_\u00c6n._ _Carthage_, my friendly host adue,\nSince destinie doth call me from the shoare:\n_Hermes_ this night descending in a dreame,\nHath summond me to fruitfull _Italy_:\n_Ioue_ wils it so, my mother wils it so:\nLet my Phenissa graunt, and then I goe:\nGraunt she or no, _\u00c6neas_ must away,\nWhose golden fortunes clogd with courtly ease,\nCannot ascend to Fames immortall house,\nOr banquet in bright honors burnisht hall,\nTill he hath furrowed _Neptunes_ glassie fieldes,\nAnd cut a passage through his toples hilles:\n_Achates_ come forth, _Sergestus_, _Illioneus_,\n_Cloanthus_, haste away, _\u00c6neas_ calles.\n\n_Enter Achates, Cloanthus, Sergestus, and Illioneus._\n\n_Acha._ What willes our Lord, or wherefore did he call?\n\n_\u00c6n._ The dreames (braue mates) that did beset my bed,\nWhen sleepe but newly had imbrast the night,\nCommaunds me leaue these vnrenowmed beames,\nWhereas Nobilitie abhors to stay,\nAnd none but base _\u00c6neas_ will abide:\nAbourd, abourd, since Fates doe bid abourd,\nAnd slice the Sea with sable coloured ships,\nOn whom the nimble windes may all day waight,\nAnd follow them as footemen through the deepe:\nYet _Dido_ casts her eyes like anchors out,\nTo stay my Fleete from loosing forth the Bay:\nCome backe, come backe, I heare her crye a farre,\nAnd let me linke my bodie to my lips,\nThat tyed together by the striuing tongues,\nWe may as one saile into _Italy_.\n\n_Acha._ Banish that ticing dame from forth your mouth,\nAnd follow your foreseeing starres in all;\nThis is no life for men at armes to liue,\nWhere daliance doth consume a Souldiers strength,\nAnd wanton motions of alluring eyes,\nEffeminate our mindes inur'd to warre.\n\n_Illio._ Why, let vs build a Citie of our owne,\nAnd not stand lingering here for amorous lookes:\nWill _Dido_ raise old _Priam_ forth his graue,\nAnd build the towne againe the Greekes did burne?\nNo no, she cares not how we sinke or swimme,\nSo she may haue _\u00c6neas_ in her armes.\n\n_Cloan._ To _Italy_, sweete friends to _Italy_,\nWe will not stay a minute longer here.\n\n_\u00c6n._ Troians abourd, and I will follow you,\nI faine would goe, yet beautie calles me backe:\nTo leaue her so and not once say farewell,\nWere to transgresse against all lawes of loue:\nBut if I vse such ceremonious thankes,\nAs parting friends accustome on the shoare,\nHer siluer armes will coll me round about,\nAnd teares of pearle, crye stay, _\u00c6neas_, stay:\nEach word she sayes will then containe a Crowne,\nAnd euery speech be ended with a kisse:\nI may not dure this female drudgerie,\nTo sea _\u00c6neas_, finde out _Italy_.  _Exit._\n\n_Enter Dido and Anna._\n\n_Dido._ O _Anna_, runne vnto the water side,\nThey say _\u00c6neas_ men are going abourd,\nIt may be he will steale away with them:\nStay not to answere me, runne _Anna_ runne.\nO foolish Troians that would steale from hence,\nAnd not let _Dido_ vnderstand their drift:\nI would haue giuen _Achates_ store of gold,\nAnd _Illioneus_ gum and Libian spice,\nThe common souldiers rich imbrodered coates,\nAnd siluer whistles to controule the windes,\nWhich _Circes_ sent _Sicheus_ when he liued:\nVnworthie are they of a Queenes reward:\nSee where they come, how might I doe to chide?\n\n_Enter Anna, with \u00c6neas, Achates, Illioneus, and Sergestus._\n\n_Anna._ Twas time to runne, _\u00c6neas_ had been gone,\nThe sailes were hoysing vp, and he abourd.\n\n_Dido._ Is this thy loue to me?\n\n_\u00c6n._ O princely _Dido_, giue me leaue to speake,\nI went to take my farewell _Achates_.\n\n_Dido._ How haps _Achates_ bid me not farewell?\n\n_Acha._ Because I feard your grace would keepe me here.\n\n_Dido._ To rid thee of that doubt, abourd againe,\nI charge thee put to sea and stay not here.\n\n_Acha._ Then let _\u00c6neas_ goe abourd with vs.\n\n_Dido._ Get you abourd, _\u00c6neas_ meanes to stay.\n\n_\u00c6n._ The sea is rough, the windes blow to the shoare.\n\n_Dido._ O false _\u00c6neas_, now the sea is rough,\nBut when you were abourd twas calme enough,\nThou and _Achates_ ment to saile away.\n\n_\u00c6n._ Hath not the Carthage Queene mine onely sonne?\nThinkes _Dido_ I will goe and leaue him here?\n\n_Dido._ _\u00c6neas_ pardon me, for I forgot\nThat yong _Ascanius_ lay with me this night:\nLoue made me iealous, but to make amends,\nWeare the emperiall Crowne of _Libia_,\nSway thou the Punike Scepter in my steede,\nAnd punish me _\u00c6neas_ for this crime.\n\n_\u00c6n._ This kisse shall be faire _Didos_ punishment.\n\n_Dido._ O how a Crowne becomes _\u00c6neas_ head!\nStay here _\u00c6neas_, and commaund as King.\n\n_\u00c6n._ How vaine am I to weare this Diadem,\nAnd beare this golden Scepter in my hand?\nA Burgonet of steele, and not a Crowne,\nA Sword, and not a Scepter fits _\u00c6neas_.\n\n_Dido._ O keepe them still, and let me gaze my fill:\nNow lookes _\u00c6neas_ like immortall _Ioue_,\nO where is _Ganimed_ to hold his cup,\nAnd _Mercury_ to flye for what he calles,\nTen thousand _Cupids_ houer in the ayre,\nAnd fanne it in _\u00c6neas_ louely face,\nO that the Clowdes were here wherein thou fleest,\nThat thou and I vnseene might sport our selues:\nHeauens enuious of our ioyes is waxen pale,\nAnd when we whisper, then the starres fall downe,\nTo be partakers of our honey talke.\n\n_\u00c6n._ O _Dido_, patronesse of all our liues,\nWhen I leaue thee, death be my punishment,\nSwell raging seas, frowne wayward destinies,\nBlow windes, threaten ye Rockes and sandie shelfes,\nThis is the harbour that _\u00c6neas_ seekes,\nLets see what tempests can anoy me now.\n\n_Dido._ Not all the world can take thee from mine armes,\n_\u00c6neas_ may commaund as many Moores,\nAs in the Sea are little water drops:\nAnd now to make experience of my loue,\nFaire sister _Anna_ leade my louer forth,\nAnd seated on my Gennet, let him ride\nAs _Didos_ husband through the punicke streetes,\nAnd will my guard with Mauritanian darts,\nTo waite vpon him as their soueraigne Lord.\n\n_Anna._ What if the Citizens repine thereat?\n\n_Dido._ Those that dislike what _Dido_ giues in charge,\nCommaund my guard to slay for their offence:\nShall vulgar pesants storme at what I doe?\nThe ground is mine that giues them sustenance,\nThe ayre wherein they breathe, the water, fire,\nAll that they haue, their lands, their goods, their liues,\nAnd I the Goddesse of all these, commaund\n_\u00c6neas_ ride as Carthaginian King.\n\n_Acha._ _\u00c6neas_ for his parentage deserues\nAs large a kingdome as is _Libia_.\n\n_\u00c6n._ I, and vnlesse the destinies be false,\nI shall be planted in as rich a land.\n\n_Dido._ Speake of no other land, this land is thine,\n_Dido_ is thine, henceforth Ile call thee Lord:\nDoe as I bid thee, sister leade the way,\nAnd from a turret Ile behold my loue.\n\n_\u00c6n._ Then here in me shall flourish _Priams_ race,\nAnd thou and I _Achates_, for reuenge,\nFor _Troy_, for _Priam_, for his fiftie sonnes,\nOur kinsmens loues, and thousand guiltles soules,\nWill leade an hoste against the hatefull Greekes,\nAnd fire proude _Lacedemon_ ore their heads. _Exit._\n\n_Dido._ Speakes not _\u00c6neas_ like a Conqueror?\nO blessed tempests that did driue him in,\nO happie sand that made him runne aground:\nHenceforth you shall be our Carthage Gods:\nI, but it may be he will leaue my loue,\nAnd seeke a forraine land calde _Italy_:\nO that I had a charme to keepe the windes\nWithin the closure of a golden ball,\nOr that the Tyrrhen sea were in mine armes,\nThat he might suffer shipwracke on my breast,\nAs oft as he attempts to hoyst vp saile:\nI must preuent him, wishing will not serue:\nGoe, bid my Nurse take yong _Ascanius_,\nAnd beare him in the countrey to her house,\n_\u00c6neas_ will not goe without his sonne:\nYet left he should, for I am full of feare,\nBring me his oares, his tackling, and his sailes;\nWhat if I sinke his ships? O heele frowne.\nBetter he frowne, then I should dye for griefe:\nI cannot see him frowne, it may not be:\nArmies of foes resolu'd to winne this towne,\nOr impious traitors vowde to haue my life,\nAffright me not, onely _\u00c6neas_ frowne\nIs that which terrifies poore _Didos_ heart:\nNor bloudie speares appearing in the ayre,\nPresage the downfall of my Emperie,\nNor blazing Commets threatens _Didos_ death,\nIt is _\u00c6neas_ frowne that ends my daies:\nIf he forsake me not, I neuer dye,\nFor in his lookes I see eternitie,\nAnd heele make me immortall with a kisse.\n\n_Enter a Lord._\n\nYour Nurse is gone with yong _Ascanius_,\nAnd heres _\u00c6neas_ tackling, oares and sailes.\n\n_Dido._ Are these the sailes that in despight of me,\nPackt with the windes to beare _\u00c6neas_ hence?\nIle hang ye in the chamber where I lye,\nDriue if you can my house to _Italy_:\nIle set the casement open that the windes\nMay enter in, and once againe conspire\nAgainst the life of me poore Carthage Queene:\nBut though he goe, he stayes in Carthage still,\nAnd let rich Carthage fleete vpon the seas,\nSo I may haue _\u00c6neas_ in mine armes.\nIs this the wood that grew in Carthage plaines,\nAnd would be toyling in the watrie billowes,\nTo rob their mistresse of her Troian guest?\nO cursed tree, hadst thou but wit or sense,\nTo measure how I prize _\u00c6neas_ loue,\nThou wouldst haue leapt from out the Sailers hands,\nAnd told me that _\u00c6neas_ ment to goe:\nAnd yet I blame thee not, thou art but wood.\nThe water which our Poets terme a Nimph,\nWhy did it suffer thee to touch her breast,\nAnd shrunke not backe, knowing my loue was there?\nThe water is an Element, no Nimph,\nWhy should I blame _\u00c6neas_ for his flight?\nO _Dido_, blame not him, but breake his oares,\nThese were the instruments that launcht him forth,\nTheres not so much as this base tackling too,\nBut dares to heape vp sorrowe to my heart:\nWas it not you that hoysed vp these sailes?\nWhy burst you not, and they fell in the seas?\nFor this will _Dido_ tye ye full of knots,\nAnd sheere ye all asunder with her hands:\nNow serue to chastize shipboyes for their faults,\nYe shall no more offend the Carthage Queene,\nNow let him hang my fauours on his masts,\nAnd see if those will serue in steed of sailes:\nFor tackling, let him take the chaines of gold,\nWhich I bestowd vpon his followers:\nIn steed of oares, let him vse his hands,\nAnd swim to _Italy_, Ile keepe these sure:\nCome beare them in. _Exit._\n\n_Enter the Nurse with Cupid for Ascanius._\n\n_Nurse._ My Lord _Ascanius_, ye must goe with me.\n\n_Cupid._ Whither must I goe? Ile stay with my mother.\n\n_Nurse._ No, thou shalt goe with me vnto my house,\nI haue an Orchard that hath store of plums,\nBrowne Almonds, Seruises, ripe Figs and Dates,\nDewberries, Apples, yellow Orenges,\nA garden where are Bee hiues full of honey,\nMusk-roses, and a thousand sort of flowers,\nAnd in the midst doth run a siluer streame,\nWhere thou shalt see the red gild fishes leape,\nWhite Swannes, and many louely water fowles:\nNow speake _Ascanius_, will ye goe or no?\n\n_Cupid._ Come come Ile goe, how farre hence is your house?\n\n_Nurse._ But hereby child, we shall get thither straight.\n\n_Cupid._ Nurse I am wearie, will you carrie me?\n\n_Nurse._ I, so youle dwell with me and call me mother.\n\n_Cupid._ So youle loue me, I care not if I doe.\n\n_Nurse._ That I might liue to see this boy a man,\nHow pretilie he laughs, goe ye wagge,\nYoule be a twigger when you come to age.\nSay _Dido_ what she will I am not old,\nIle be no more a widowe, I am young,\nIle haue a husband, or els a louer.\n\n_Cupid._ A husband and no teeth!\n\n_Nurse._ O what meane I to haue such foolish thoughts!\nFoolish is loue, a toy, O sacred loue,\nIf there be any heauen in earth, tis loue:\nEspecially in women of your yeares.\nBlush blush for shame, why shouldst thou thinke of loue?\nA graue, and not a louer fits thy age:\nA graue, why? I may liue a hundred yeares,\nFourescore is but a girles age, loue is sweete:\nMy vaines are withered, and my sinewes drie,\nWhy doe I thinke of loue now I should dye?\n\n_Cupid._ Come Nurse.\n\n_Nurse._ Well, if he come a wooing he shall speede,\nO how vnwise was I to say him nay!  _Exeunt._\n\n\n\n\nActus 5.\n\n\n_Enter \u00c6neas with a paper in his hand, drawing the platforme of the\ncitie, with him Achates, Cloanthus, and Illieneus._\n\n_\u00c6n._ Triumph my mates, our trauels are at end,\nHere will _\u00c6neas_ build a statelier _Troy_,\nThen that which grim _Atrides_ ouerthrew:\n_Carthage_ shall vaunt her pettie walles no more,\nFor I will grace them with a fairer frame,\nAnd clad her in a Chrystall liuerie,\nWherein the day may euermore delight:\nFrom golden _India Ganges_ will I fetch,\nWhose wealthie streames may waite vpon her towers,\nAnd triple wise intrench her round about:\nThe Sunne from Egypt shall rich odors bring,\nWherewith his burning beames like labouring Bees,\nThat loade their thighes with _Hyblas_ honeys spoyles,\nShall here vnburden their exhaled sweetes,\nAnd plant our pleasant suburbes with her fumes.\n\n_Acha._ What length or bredth shal this braue towne c[=o]taine?\n\n_\u00c6n._ Not past foure thousand paces at the most.\n\n_Illio._ But what shall it be calde, _Troy_ as before?\n\n_\u00c6n._ That haue I not determinde with my selfe.\n\n_Cloan._ Let it be term'd _\u00c6nea_ by your name.\n\n_Serg._ Rather _Ascania_ by your little sonne.\n\n_\u00c6n._ Nay, I will haue it calde _Anchisaon_,\nOf my old fathers name.\n\n_Enter Hermes with Ascanius._\n\n_Hermes._ _\u00c6neas_ stay, _Ioues_ Herald bids thee stay.\n\n_\u00c6n._ Whom doe I see, _Ioues_ winged messenger?\nWelcome to _Carthage_ new erected towne.\n\n_Hermes._ Why cosin, stand you building Cities here,\nAnd beautifying the Empire of this Queene,\nWhile _Italy_ is cleane out of thy minde?\nTo too forgetfull of thine owne affayres,\nWhy wilt thou so betray thy sonnes good hap?\nThe king of Gods sent me from highest heauen,\nTo sound this angrie message in thine eares.\nVaine man, what Monarky expectst thou here?\nOr with what thought sleepst thou in _Libia_ shoare?\nIf that all glorie hath forsaken thee,\nAnd thou despise the praise of such attempts:\nYet thinke vpon _Ascanius_ prophesie,\nAnd yong _Iulus_ more then thousand yeares,\nWhom I haue brought from _Ida_ where he slept,\nAnd bore yong _Cupid_ vnto _Cypresse_ Ile.\n\n_\u00c6n._ This was my mother that beguild the Queene,\nAnd made me take my brother for my sonne:\nNo maruell _Dido_ though thou be in loue,\nThat daylie danlest _Cupid_ in thy armes:\nWelcome sweet child, where hast thou been this long?\n\n_Asca._ Eating sweet Comfites with Queene _Didos_ maide,\nWho euer since hath luld me in her armes.\n\n_\u00c6n._ _Sergestus_, beare him hence vnto our ships,\nLest _Dido_ spying him keepe him for a pledge.\n\n_Hermes._ Spendst thou thy time about this little boy,\nAnd giuest not care vnto the charge I bring?\nI tell thee thou must straight to _Italy_,\nOr els abide the wrath of frowning _Ioue_.\n\n_\u00c6n._ How should I put into the raging deepe,\nWho haue no sailes nor tackling for my ships?\nWhat would the Gods haue me _Deucalion_ like,\nFlote vp and downe where ere the billowes driue?\nThough she repairde my fleete and gaue me ships,\nYet hath she tane away my oares and masts,\nAnd left me neither saile nor sterne abourd.\n\n_Enter to them Iarbus._\n\n_Iar._ How now _\u00c6neas_, sad, what meanes these dumpes?\n\n_\u00c6n._ _Iarbus_, I am cleane besides my selfe,\n_Ioue_ hath heapt on me such a desperate charge,\nWhich neither art nor reason may atchieue,\nNor I deuise by what meanes to contriue.\n\n_Iar._ As how I pray, may I entreat you tell.\n\n_\u00c6n._ With speede he bids me sail to _Italy_.\nWhen as I want both rigging for my fleete,\nAnd also furniture for these my men.\n\n_Iar._ If that be all, then cheare thy drooping lookes,\nFor I will furnish thee with such supplies:\nLet some of those thy followers goe with me,\nAnd they shall haue what thing so ere thou needst.\n\n_\u00c6n._ Thankes good _Iarbus_ for thy friendly ayde,\n_Achates_ and the rest shall waite on thee,\nWhil'st I rest thankfull for this curtesie.\n\n_Exit Iarbus and \u00c6neas traine._\n\nNow will I haste vnto _Lauinian_ shoare,\nAnd raise a new foundation to old _Troy_,\nWitnes the Gods, and witnes heauen and earth,\nHow loth I am to leaue these _Libian_ bounds,\nBut that eternall _Iupiter_ commands.\n\n_Enter Dido and \u00c6neas._\n\n_Dido._ I feare I sawe _\u00c6neas_ little sonne,\nLed by _Achates_ to the Troian fleete:\nIf it be so, his father meanes to flye:\nBut here he is, now _Dido_ trie thy wit.\n_\u00c6neas_, wherefore goe thy men abourd?,\nWhy are thy ships new rigd? or to what end\nLauncht from the hauen, lye they in the Rhode?\nPardon me though I aske, loue makes me aske.\n\n_\u00c6n._ O pardon me, if I resolue thee why:\n_\u00c6neas_ will not faine with his deare loue,\nI must from hence: this day swift _Mercury_\nWhen I was laying a platforme for these walles,\nSent from his father _Ioue_, appeard to me,\nAnd in his name rebukt me bitterly,\nFor lingering here, neglecting _Italy_.\n\n_Dido._ But yet _\u00c6neas_ will not leaue his loue.\n\n_\u00c6n._ I am commaunded by immortal _Ioue_,\nTo leaue this towne and passe to _Italy_,\nAnd therefore must of force.\n\n_Dido._ These words proceed not from _\u00c6neas_ heart.\n\n_\u00c6n._ Not from my heart, for I can hardly goe,\nAnd yet I may not stay, _Dido_ farewell.\n\n_Dido._ Farewell: is this the mends for _Didos_ loue?\nDoe Troians vse to quit their Louers thus?\nFare well may _Dido_, so _\u00c6neas_ stay,\nI dye, if my _\u00c6neas_ say farewell.\n\n_\u00c6n._ Then let me goe and neuer say farewell,\nLet me goe, farewell, I must from hence.\n\n_Dido._ These words are poyson to poore _Didos_ soule,\nO speake like my _\u00c6neas_, like my loue:\nWhy look'st thou toward the sea? the time hath been\nWhen _Didos_ beautie chaungd thine eyes to her;\nAm I lesse faire then when thou sawest me first?\nO then _\u00c6neas_, tis for griefe of thee:\nSay thou wilt stay in _Carthage_ with my Queene,\nAnd _Didos_ beautie will returne againe:\n_\u00c6neas_, say, how canst thou take thy leaue?\nWilt thou kisse _Dido_? O thy lips haue sworne\nTo stay with _Dido_: canst thou take her hand?\nThy Hand and mine haue plighted mutuall faith,\nTherefore vnkinde _\u00c6neas_, must thou say,\nThen let me goe, and neuer say farewell.\n\n_\u00c6n._ O Queene of _Carthage_, wert thou vgly blacke,\n_\u00c6neas_ could not choose but hold thee deare,\nYet must he not gainsay the Gods behest.\n\n_Dido._ The Gods, what Gods be those that seeke my death?\nWherein haue I offended _Iupiter_,\nThat he should take _\u00c6neas_ from mine armes?\nO no, the Gods wey not what Louers doe,\nIt is _\u00c6neas_ calles _\u00c6neas_ hence,\nAnd wofull _Dido_ by these blubbred cheekes,\nBy this right hand, and by our spousall rites,\nDesires _\u00c6neas_ to remaine with her:\n_Si bene quid de te merui, fuit aut tibi quidquam\nDulce meum, miserere domus labentis: & istam\nOro, si quis ad hac precibus locus, exue mentem._\n\n_\u00c6n. Desine meque tuis incendere teque querelis,\nItaliam non sponte sequor._\n\n_Dido._ Hast thou forgot how many neighbour kings\nWere vp in armes, for making thee my loue?\nHow _Carthage_ did rebell, _Iarbus_ storme,\nAnd all the world calles me a second _Helen_,\nFor being intangled by a strangers lookes:\nSo thou wouldst proue as true as _Paris_ did,\nWould, as faire _Troy_ was, _Carthage_ might be sackt,\nAnd I be calde a second _Helena_.\nHad I a sonne by thee, the griefe were lesse,\nThat I might see _\u00c6neas_ in his face:\nNow if thou goest, what canst thou leaue behind,\nBut rather will augment then ease my woe?\n\n_\u00c6n._ In vaine my loue thou spendst thy fainting breath,\nIf words might moue me I were ouercome.\n\n_Dido._ And wilt thou not be mou'd with _Didos_ words?\nThy mother was no Goddesse periurd man,\nNor _Dardanus_ the author of thy stocke:\nBut thou art Sprung from _Scythian Caucasus_,\nAnd Tygers of _Hircania_ gaue thee sucke:\nAh foolish _Dido_ to forbeare this long!\nWast thou not wrackt vpon this _Libian_ shoare,\nAnd cam'st to _Dido_ like a Fisherswaine?\nRepairde not I thy ships, made thee a King,\nAnd all thy needie followers Noblemen?\nO Serpent that came creeping from the shoare,\nAnd I for pitie harbord in my bosome,\nWilt thou now slay me with thy venomed sting,\nAnd hisse at _Dido_ for preseruing thee?\nGoe goe and spare not, seeke out _Italy_,\nI hope that that which loue forbids me doe,\nThe Rockes and Sea-gulfes will performe at large,\nAnd thou shalt perish in the billowes waies,\nTo whom poore _Dido_ doth bequeath reuenge,\nI traytor, and the waues shall cast thee vp,\nWhere thou and false _Achates_ first set foote:\nWhich if it chaunce, Ile giue ye buriall,\nAnd weepe vpon your liueles carcases,\nThough thou nor he will pitie me a whit.\nWhy star'st thou in my face? if thou wilt stay,\nLeape in mine armes, mine armes are open wide:\nIf not, turne from me, and Ile turne from thee;\nFor though thou hast the heart to say farewell,\nI haue not power to stay thee: is he gone?\nI but heele come againe, he cannot goe,\nHe loues me to too well to serue me so:\nYet he that in my sight would not relent,\nWill, being absent, be abdurate still.\nBy this is he got to the water side,\nAnd, see the Sailers take him by the hand,\nBut he shrinkes backe, and now remembring me,\nReturnes amaine: welcome, welcome my loue:\nBut wheres _\u00c6neas_? ah hees gone hees gone!\n\n_Anna._ What meanes my sister thus to raue and crye?\n\n_Dido._ O _Anna_, my _\u00c6neas_ is abourd,\nAnd leauing me will saile to _Italy_.\nOnce didst thou goe, and he came backe againe,\nNow bring him backe, and thou shalt be a Queene,\nAnd I will liue a priuate life with him.\n\n_Anna._ Wicked _\u00c6neas_.\n\n_Dido._ Call him not wicked, sister speake him faire,\nAnd looke vpon him with a Mermaides eye,\nTell him, I neuer vow'd at _Aulis_ gulfe\nThe desolation of his natiue _Troy_,\nNor sent a thousand ships vnto the walles,\nNor euer violated faith to him:\nRequest him gently (_Anna_) to returne,\nI craue but this, he stay a tide or two,\nThat I may learne to beare it patiently,\nIf he depart thus suddenly, I dye:\nRun _Anna_, run, stay not to answere me.\n\n_Anna._ I goe faire sister, heauens graunt good successe.\n\n_Exit Anna._\n\n_Enter the Nurse._\n\n_Nurse._ O _Dido_, your little sonne _Ascanius_\nIs gone! he lay with me last night,\nAnd in the morning he was stolne from me,\nI thinke some Fairies haue beguiled me.\n\n_Dido._ O cursed hagge and false dissembling wretch!\nThat slayest me with thy harsh and hellish tale,\nThou for some pettie guift hast let him goe,\nAnd I am thus deluded of my boy:\nAway with her to prison presently,\nTraytoresse too keend and cursed Sorceresse.\n\n_Nurse._ I know not what you meane by treason, I,\nI am as true as any one of yours. _Exeunt the Nurse._\n\n_Dido._ Away with her, suffer her not to speake.\nMy sister comes, I like not her sad lookes.\n\n_Enter Anna._\n\n_Anna._ Before I came, _\u00c6neas_ was abourd,\nAnd spying me, hoyst vp the sailes amaine:\nBut I cride out, _\u00c6neas_, false _\u00c6neas_ stay.\nThen gan he wagge his hand, which yet held vp,\nMade me suppose he would haue heard me speake:\nThen gan they driue into the Ocean,\nWhich when I viewd, I cride, _\u00c6neas_ stay,\n_Dido_, faire _Dido_ wils _\u00c6neas_ stay:\nYet he whose heart of adamant or flint,\nMy teares nor plaints could mollifie a whit:\nThen carelesly I rent my haire for griefe,\nWhich seene to all, though he beheld me not,\nThey gan to moue him to redresse my ruth,\nAnd stay a while to heare what I could say,\nBut he clapt vnder hatches saild away.\n\n_Dido._ O _Anna_, _Anna_, I will follow him.\n\n_Anna._ How can ye goe when he hath all your fleete?\n\n_Dido._ Ile frame me wings of waxe like _Icarus_,\nAnd ore his ships will soare vnto the Sunne,\nThat they may melt and I fall in his armes:\nOr els Ile make a prayer vnto the waues,\nThat I may swim to him like _Tritons_ neece:\nO _Anna_, fetch _Orions_ Harpe,\nThat I may tice a Dolphin to the shoare,\nAnd ride vpon his backe vnto my loue:\nLooke sister, looke louely _\u00c6neas_ ships,\nSee see, the billowes heaue him vp to heauen,\nAnd now downe falles the keeles into the deepe:\nO sister, sister, take away the Rockes,\nTheile breake his ships, O _Proteus_, _Neptune_, _Ioue_,\nSaue, saue _\u00c6neas_, _Didos_ leefest loue!\nNow is he come on shoare safe without hurt:\nBut see, _Achates_ wils him put to sea,\nAnd all the Sailers merrie make for ioy,\nBut he remembring me shrinkes backe againe:\nSee where he comes, welcome, welcome my loue.\n\n_Anna._ Ah sister, leaue these idle fantasies,\nSweet sister cease, remember who you are.\n\n_Dido. Dido_ I am, vnlesse I be deceiu'd,\nAnd must I raue thus for a renegate?\nMust I make ships for him to saile away?\nNothing can beare me to him but a ship,\nAnd he hath all thy fleete, what shall I doe?\nBut dye in furie of this ouersight?\nI, I must be the murderer of my selfe:\nNo but I am not, yet I will be straight.\n_Anna_ be glad, now haue I found a meane\nTo rid me from these thoughts of Lunacie:\nNot farre from hence there is a woman famoused for arts,\nDaughter vnto the Nimphs _Hesperides_,\nWho wild me sacrifice his ticing relliques:\nGoe _Anna_, bid my seruants bring me fire.  _Exit Anna._\n\n_Enter Iarbus._\n\n_Iar._ How long will _Dido_ mourne a strangers flight,\nThat hath dishonord her and _Carthage_ both?\nHow long shall I with griefe consume my daies,\nAnd reape no guerdon for my truest loue?\n\n_Dido._ _Iarbus_, talk not of _\u00c6neas_, let him goe,\nLay to thy hands and helpe me make a fire,\nThat shall consume all that this stranger left,\nFor I entend a priuate Sacrifize,\nTo cure my minde that melts for vnkind loue.\n\n_Iar._ But afterwards will _Dido_ graunt me loue?\n\n_Dido._ I, I, _Iarbus_, after this is done,\nNone in the world shall have my loue but thou:\nSo, leaue me now, let none approach this place. _Exit Iarbus._\nNow _Dido_, with these reliques burne thy selfe,\nAnd make _\u00c6neas_ famous through the world,\nFor periurie and slaughter of a Queene:\nHere lye the Sword that in the darksome Caue\nHe drew, and swore by to be true to me,\nThou shalt burne first, thy crime is worse then his:\nHere lye the garment which I cloath'd him in,\nWhen first he came on shoare, perish thou to:\nThese letters, lines, and periurd papers all,\nShall burne to cinders in this prectious flame.\nAnd now ye Gods that guide the starrie frame,\nAnd order all things at your high dispose;\nGraunt, though the traytors land in _Italy_,\nThey may be still tormented with vnrest,\nAnd from mine ashes let a Conquerour rise,\nThat may reuenge this treason to a Queene,\nBy plowing vp his Countries with the Sword:\nBetwixt this land and that be neuer league,\n_Littora littoribus contraria, fluctibus undas\nImpresor: arma armis: pugnent ipsig nepotes_:\nLiue false _\u00c6neas_, truest _Dido_ dyes,\n_Sic sic inuat ire sub umbras_.\n\n_Enter Anna._\n\n_Anna._ O helpe _Iarbus_, _Dido_ in these flames\nHath burnt her selfe, aye me, vnhappie me!\n\n_Enter Iarbus running._\n\n_Iar._ Cursed _Iarbus_, dye to expiate\nThe griefe that tires vpon thine inward soule,\n_Dido_ I come to thee, aye me _\u00c6neas_.\n\n_Anna._ What can my teares or cryes preuaile me now?\n_Dido_ is dead, _Iarbus_ slaine, _Iarbus_ my deare loue,\nO sweet _Iarbus_, _Annas_ sole delight,\nWhat fatall destinie enuies me thus,\nTo see my sweet _Iarbus_ slay himselfe?\nBut _Anna_ now shall honor thee in death,\nAnd mixe her bloud with thine, this shall I doe,\nThat Gods and men may pitie this my death,\nAnd rue our ends senceles of life or breath;\nNow sweet _Iarbus_ stay, I come to thee.\n\n_FINIS._","title":"The Tragedy of Dido Queene of Carthage","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":14832}