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Some came in person, others sent their legates,
Yet none obtain'd me: I am free from all;
And yet, God knows, entangled unto one.
This was an orator, and thought by words
To compass me; but yet he was deceiv'd:
And this a Spartan courtier, vain and wild;
But his fantastic humours pleas'd not me:
This was Alcion, a musician;

But, play'd he ne'er so sweet, I let him go:
This was the wealthy king of Thessaly;
But I had gold enough, and cast him off:
This, Meleager's son, a warlike prince;
But weapons gree not with my tender years:
The rest are such as all the world well knows :
Yet now I swear, by heaven and him I love,
I was as far from love as they from hate.

En. O, happy shall he be whom Dido loves!
Dido. Then never say that thou art miserable,

Because, it may be, thou shalt be my love:
Yet boast not of it, for I love thee not,-
And yet I hate thee not.-O, if I speak,

I shall betray myself! [Aside.]-Æneas, come:+
We two will go a-hunting in the woods;
But not so much for thee,-thou art but one,-
As for Achates and his followers.

[Excunt.

Enter JUNO to ASCANIUS, who lies asleep. Juno. Here lies my hate, Æneas' cursed brat, The boy wherein false Destiny delights, The heir of Fury, the favourite of the Fates,§ That ugly imp that shall outwear my wrath, And wrong my deity with high disgrace. But I will take another order now, And raze th' eternal register of Time: Troy shall no more call him her second hope, Nor Venus triumph in his tender youth; For here, in spite of heaven, I'll murder him, And feed infection with his let-out || life. Say, Paris, now shall Venus have the ball? Say, vengeance, now shall her Ascanius die? O, no! God wot, I cannot watch my time, Nor quit good turns with double fee down told!

Tut, I am simple, without mind** to hurt,

*now] Old ed. "how."

† come] Old ed. "speak,"-by an error of the compositor, whose eye had caught the word from the preceding line.

Enter Juno, &c.] Scene, a grove.

§ Fates] Old ed. "face."-"Omit," says J. M. (Gent. Magazine for Jan. 1841), "the second 'the' in this line." Ilet-out] Old ed. "left out."

quit] i. e. requite.

** mind] Old cd. "made."-The modern editors print "might."

And have no gall at all to grieve my foes! But lustful Jove and his adulterous child Shall find it written on confusion's front, That only Juno rules in Rhamnus' town.*

Enter VENUS.

Ven. What should this mean? my doves arc
back return'd,

Who warn me of such danger prest + at hand
To harm my sweet Ascanius' lovely life.-
Juno, my mortal foe, what make you here?
Avaunt, old witch! and trouble not my wits.
Juno. Fie, Venus, that such causeless words of
wrath

Should e'er defile so fair a mouth as thine!
Are not we both sprung of celestial race,
And banquet, as two sisters, with the gods?
Why is it, then, displeasure should disjoin
Whom kindred and acquaintance co-unites?

Ven. Out, hateful hag! thou wouldst have
slain my son,

Had not my doves discover'd thy intent:
But I will tear thy eyes fro forth thy head,
And feast the birds with their blood-shotten
balls,

If thou but lay thy fingers on my boy.

Juno. Is this, then, all the thanks that I shall

have

For saving him from snakes' and serpents' stings,
That would have kill'd him, sleeping, as he lay!
What, though I was offended with thy son,
And wrought him mickle woe on sea and land,
When, for the hate of Trojan Ganymede,
That was advanced by my Hebe's shame,
And Paris' judgment of the heavenly ball,
I muster'd all the winds unto his wreck,
And urg'd each element to his annoy?
Yet now I do repent me of his ruth,
And wish that I had never wrong'd him so.
Bootless, I saw, it was to war with fate
That hath so many unresisted ‡ friends:
Wherefore I chang'd§ my counsel with the time,
And planted love where envy erst had sprung.

Ven. Sister of Jove, if that thy love be such
As these thy protestations do paint forth,
We two, as friends, one fortune will divide:
Cupid shall lay his arrows in thy lap,
And to a sceptre change his golden shafts;

* That only Juno rules in Rhamnus' town] i. e. that Juno only is the goddess of vengeance, Nemesis.

† prest] i, e. ready, near. unresisted] i. e. irresistible.

§ chang'd] Old ed. "change."

*

Fancy and modesty shall live as mates,

And thy fair peacocks by my pigeons perch:
Love my Eneas, and desire is thine;
The day, the night, my swans, my sweets, are thine,
Juno. More than melodious are these words to me,
That overcloy my soul with their content.
Venus, sweet Venus, how may I deserve
Such amorous favours at thy beauteous hand?
But, that thou mayst more easily perceive
How highly I do prize this amity,
Hark to a motion of eternal league,
Which I will make in quittance of thy love.
Thy son, thou know'st, with Dido now remains,
And feeds his eyes with favours of her court;
She, likewise, in admiring spends her time,
And cannot talk nor think of aught but him:
Why should not they, then, join in marriage,
And bring forth mighty kings to Carthage-town,
Whom casualty of sea hath made such friends?
And, Venus, let there be a match confirm'd
Betwixt these two, whose loves are so alike;
And both our deities, conjoin'd in one,
Shall chain felicity unto their throne.

Ven. Well could I like this reconcilement's

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Enter DIDO,* ENEAS, ANNA, IARBAS, ACHATES, CUPID as ASCANIUS, and Followers.

Dido. Eneas, think not but I honour thee, That thus in person go with thee to hunt: My princely robes, thou see'st, are laid aside, Whose glittering pomp Diana's shroud + supplies; All fellows now, dispos'd alike to sport; The woods are wide, and we have store of game. Fair Trojan, hold my golden bow a while, Until I gird my quiver to my side.— Lords, go before; we two must talk alone.

Iar. Ungentle, can she wrong Iarbas so? I'll die before a stranger have that grace. "We two will talk alone"-what words be these! [Aside.

Dido. What makes Iarbas here of all the rest? We could have gone without your company.

En. But love and duty led him on perhaps To press beyond acceptance to your sight.

Iar. Why, man of Troy, do I offend thine eyes?

Or art thou griev'd thy betters press so nigh? Dido. How now, Gætulian! are you grown so brave,

To challenge us with your comparisons?
Peasant, go seek companions like thyself,
And meddle not with any that I love.-
Eneas, be not mov'd at what he says;
For otherwhile he will be out of joint.

Iar. Women may wrong by privilege of love;
But, should that man of men, Dido except,
Have taunted me in these opprobrious terms,
I would have either drunk his dying blood,
Or else I would have given my life in gage.
Dido. Huntsmen, why pitch you not your
toils apace,

And rouse the light-foot deer from forth their lair?

Anna. Sister, see, see Ascanius in his pomp, Bearing his hunt-spear bravely in his hand! Dido. Yea, little son, are you so forward now?

Cup. Ay, mother; I shall one day be a man, And better able unto other arms; Meantime these wanton weapons serve my war, Which I will break betwixt a lion's jaws.

Dido. What, dar'st thou look a lion in the face?

Cup. Ay; and outface him too, do what he

can.

Anna. How like his father speaketh he in all!

*Enter Dido, &c.] Scene, a wood. † shroud] Old ed. "shrowdes."

En. And mought* I live to see him sack rich
Thebes,

And load his spear with Grecian princes' heads,
Then would I wish me with Anchises' tomb,
And dead to honour that hath brought me up.
Iar. And might I live to see thee shipp'd

away,

And hoist aloft on Neptune's hideous hills, Then would I wish me in fair Dido's arms, And dead to scorn that hath pursu'd me so.

[Aside.

En. Stout friend Achates, dost thou know this wood?

Ach. As I remember, here you shot the deer That sav'd your famish'd soldiers' lives from death,

When first you set your foot upon the shore;
And here we met fair Venus, virgin-like,
Bearing her bow and quiver at her back.

En. O, how these irksome labours now delight,
And overjoy my thoughts with their escape!
Who would not undergo all kind of toil,
To be well stor'd with such a winter's tale?
Dido. Eneas, leave these dumps, and let's

away,

Some to the mountains, some unto the soil,t You to the valleys,-thou unto the house.

[Exeunt all except IARBAS.

Iar. Ay, this it is which wounds me to the

death,

To see a Phrygian, far-fet o'er the sea,
Preferr'd before a man of majesty.

O love! O hate! O cruel women's hearts,
That imitate the moon in every change,
And, like the planets, ever love to range!
What shall I do, thus wrongèd with disdain?

*mought] i. e. might.

the soil i. e. the water.-To take soil was a very common hunting-term applied to a deer, and meaning to take refuge in the water. Cotgrave (who has also "Souil de sanglier. The soile of a wild Boare; the slough or mire wherein he hath wallowed", and "Se souiller, Of a swine, to take soyle, or wallow in the mire") gives "Batre les eaux. A Deere to take soyle." Sylvester renders the lines of Du Bartas,

by

"He Dieu! quel plaisir c'est de voir tout vn troupeau De cerfs au pieds ventoux s'esbatre dessus l'eau,"

"O! what a sport, to see a heard of them
Take soyl in summer in some spacious stream!"
p. 50, ed. 1641.

And Petowe, in his Second Part of Hero and Leander, &c. (see Appendix iii. to the present volume), has,-

"The chased deere hath soile to coole his heate." far-fet o'er] Old ed. "far fet to:" fet, i. e. fetched. In our author's translation of The first Book of Lucan we have "far-fet story."

Revenge me on Eneas or on her?

On her! fond* man, that were to war 'gainst heaven,

And with one shaft provoke ten thousand darts.
This Trojan's end will be thy envy's aim,
Whose blood will reconcile thee to content,
And make love drunken with thy sweet desire.
But Dido, that now holdeth him so dear,
Will die with very tidings of his death:
But time will discontinue her content,

And mould her mind unto new fancy's shapes.+ !
O God of heaven, turn the hand of Fate
Unto that happy day of my delight!

And then-what then? Iarbas shall but love:
So doth he now, though not with equal gain;
That resteth in the rival of thy pain,

Who ne'er will cease to soar till he be slain.

[Ecit.

The storm. Enter ENEAS and DIDO in the cave, at several times.

Dido. Eneas! En. Dido!

Dido. Tell me, dear love, how found you out this cave?

En. By chance, sweet queen, as Mars and Venus met.

Dido. Why, that was in a net, where § we are

loose;

And yet I am not free,-O, would I were!

En. Why, what is it that Dido may desire

And not obtain, be it in human power?

Dido. The thing that I will die before I ask, And yet desire to have before I dic.

En. It is not aught Æneas may achieve? Dido. Eneas! no; although his eyes do pierce.

En. What, hath Iarbas anger'd her in aught? And will she be avengèd on his life?

Dido. Not anger'd me, except in angering

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En. What ails my queen? is she faln sick of And vow, by all the gods of hospitality, late?

By heaven and earth, and my fair brother's bow,

Dido. Not sick, my love; but sick I must By Paphos, Capys,* and the purple sea conceal

The torment that it boots me not reveal:

And yet I'll speak,-and yet I'll hold my peace. Do shame her worst, I will disclose my grief: Eneas, thou art he-what did I say? Something it was that now I have forgot.

En. What means fair Dido by this doubtful speech?

Dido. Nay, nothing; but Æneas loves me

not.

En. Eneas' thoughts dare not ascend so high As Dido's heart, which monarchs might not scale.

Dido. It was because I saw no king like thee, Whose golden crown might balance my content; But now that I have found what to affect,* I follow one that loveth fame 'foret me, And rather had seem fair [in] Sirens' eyes, Than to the Carthage queen that dies for him. En. If that your majesty can look so low As my despised worths that shun all praise, With this my hand I give to you my heart,

From whence my radiant mother did descend,
And by this sword that sav'd me from the
Greeks,

Never to leave these new-upreared walls,
Whiles Dido lives and rules in Juno's town,-
Never to like or love any but her!

Dido. What more than Delian music do I hear,
That calls my soul from forth his living seat
To move unto the measures of delight?
Kind clouds, that sent forth such a courteous
storm

As made disdain to fly to fancy's+ lap!
Stout love, in mine arms make thy Italy,
Whose crown and kingdom rests at thy command:
Sichæus, not Æneas, be thou call'd;
The king of Carthage, not Anchises' son:
Hold, take these jewels at thy lover's hand,
[Giving jewels, &c.
These golden bracelets, and this wedding-ring,
Wherewith my husband woo'd me yet a maid,
And be thou king of Libya by my gift.

[Exeunt to the cave.

ACT IV.

Enter ACHATES, CUPID as ASCANIUS, IARBAS, and
ANNA.

Ach. Did ever men see such a sudden storm, Or day so clear so suddenly o'ercast?

Iar. I think some fell enchantress dwelleth here, That can call them forth whenas § she please, And dive into black tempest's treasury, Whenas she means to mask the world with clouds.

Anna. In all my life I never knew the like; It hail'd, it snow'd, it lighten'd, all at once.

Ach. I think, it was the devil's revelling night, There was such hurly-burly in the heavens: Doubtless Apollo's axle-tree is crack'd, Or agèd Atlas' shoulder out of joint, The motion was so over-violent.

affect] i. e. love.-Old ed. "effect."

t'fore] Old ed. "for."

Enter Achates, &c.] Scene, before the cave.

§ whenas] i. e. when.-The line is corrupted. "Read,"

says J. M. (Gent. Magazine for Jan., 1841),

'One that can call them forth, &c.'"

But the corruption seems to lie in the word "them."

Iar. In all this coil,§ where have ye left the queen?

Asc. Nay, where's my warlike father, can you tell?

Anna. Behold, where both of them come forth the cave.

Iar. Come forth the cave! can heaven endure this sight?

Iarbas, curse that unrevenging Jove,
Whose flinty darts slept in Typhoeus' || den,
Whiles these adulterers surfeited with sin.
Nature, why mad'st me not some poisonous
beast,

That with the sharpness of my edgèd sting
I might have stak'd them both unto the earth,
Whilst they were sporting in this darksome

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Enter, from the cave, NEAS and DIDO,

En. The air is clear, and southern winds are whist.*

Come, Dido, let us hasten to the town,
Since gloomy Eolus doth cease to frown.
Dido. Achates and Ascanius, well met.

En. Fair Anna, how escap'd you from the
shower?

Anna. As others did, by running to the wood. Dido. But where were you, Iarbas, all this while?

Iar. Not with Æneas in the ugly cave. Dido. I see, Æneas sticketh in your mind; But I will soon put by that stumbling-block, And quell those hopes that thus employ your cares.t

Enter IARBAS to sacrifice.

[Exeunt.

Iar. Come, servants, come; bring forth the sacrifice,

That I may pacify that gloomy Jove,
Whose empty altars have enlarg'd our ills.-

[Servants bring in the sacrifice, and then exeunt.
Eternal Jove, great master of the clouds,
Father of gladness and all frolic thoughts,
That with thy gloomy hand corrects the heaven,
When airy creatures war amongst themselves;
Hear, hear, O, hear Iarbas' plaining § prayers,
Whose hideous echoes make the welkin howl,
And all the woods Eliza || to resound!
The woman that thou will'd us entertain,
Where, straying in our borders up and down,
She crav'd a hide of ground to build a town,
With whom we did divide both laws and land,
And all the fruits that plenty else sends forth,
Scorning our loves and royal marriage-rites,
Yields up her beauty to a stranger's bed;
Who, having wrought her shame, is straightway
fled:

Now, if thou be'st a pitying god of power,
On whom ruth and compassion ever waits,
Redress these wrongs, and warn him to his ships,
That now afflicts me with his flattering eyes.

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Iar. Ay, Anna: is there aught you would with

me?

Anna. Nay, no such weighty business of import

But may be slack'd until another time:
Yet, if you would partake with me the cause
Of this devotion that detaineth you,

I would be thankful for such courtesy.

Iar. Anna, against this Trojan do I pray, Who seeks to rob me of thy sister's love, And dive into her heart by colour'd looks.

cannot

Anna. Alas, poor king, that labours so in vain For her that so delighteth in thy pain! Be rul'd by me, and seek some other love, Whose yielding heart may yield thee more relief. Iar. Mine eye is fix'd where fancy start: O, leave me, leave me to my silent thoughts, That register the numbers of my ruth, And I will either move the thoughtless flint, Or drop out both mine eyes in drizzling tears, Before my sorrow's tide have any stint!

Anna. I will not leave Iarbas, whom I love, In this delight of dying pensiveness. Away with Dido! Anna be thy song; Anna, that doth admire thee more than heaven. Iar. I may nor will list to such loathsome

change,

That intercepts the course of my desire.— Servants, come fetch these empty vessels here; For I will fly from these alluring eyes, That do pursue my peace where'er it goes. [Exit.-Servants re-enter, and carry out the vessels, dc.

Anna. Iarbas, stay, loving Iarbas, stay! For I have honey to present thee with. Hard-hearted, wilt not deign to hear me speak? I'll follow thee with outcries ne'ertheless, And strew thy walks with my dishevell'd hair. [Exit.

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