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By this, the camp was come unto the walls, To whom the agèd king thus, trembling, spoke; And through the breach did march into the “ Achilles' son, remember what I was, streets,

Father of fifty sons, but they are slain; Where, meeting with the rest, " Kill, kill!” they Lord of my fortune, but my fortune's turn'd; cried.

King of this city, but my Troy is fird; Frighted with this confusèd noise, I rose, And now am neither father, lord, nor king: And, looking from a turret, might behold

Yet who so wretched but desires to live! Young infants swimming in their parents' blood, 0, let me live, great Neoptolemus!" Headless carcasses pilèd up in heaps,

Not mov'd at all, but smiling at his tears, Virgins half-dead, dragg'd by their golden hair, This butcher, whilst his hands were yet held up, Aud with main force flung on a ring of pikes, Treading upon his breast, struck off his hands. Old men with swords thrust through their aged Dido. O, end, Æneas ! I can hear no more. sides,

Æn. At which the frantic queen leap'd on his Kneeling for mercy to a Greekish lad,

face, Who with steel pole-axes dash'd out their brains. And in his eyelids hanging by the nails, Then buckled I mine armour, drew my sword, A little while prolong'd her husband's life. And thinkiog to go down, came Hector's ghost, At last, the soldiers pull'd her by the heels, With ashy visage, blueish sulphur eyes,

And swung her howling in the empty air, His arms torn from his shoulders, and his breast Which sent an echo to the wounded king: Furrow'd with wounds, and, that which made me Whereat he lifted up his bed-rid limbs, weep,

And would have grappled with Achilles' son, Thongs at his heels, by which Achilles' borse Forgetting both his want of strength and hands; Drew him in triumph through the Greekish camr. Which he disdaining, wbisk'd his sword about, Burst from the earth, crying “ Æneas, fly! And with the wind * thereof the king fell down; Troy is a-fire, the Grecians have the town !" Then from the navel to the throat at once Dido. O Hector, who weeps not to hear thy Me ripp'd old Priam; at whose latter gasp name?

Dove's marble statue gan to bend the brow, Æn. Yet flung I forth, and, desperate of my As loathing Pyrrhus for this wicked act. life,

Yet he, undaunted, took his father's flag, Ran in the thickest throngs, and with this sword And dipp'd it in the old king's chill-cold blood, Sent many of their savage ghosts to hell.

And then in triumph ran into the streets, At last came Pyrrhus, fell and full of ire, Through which he could not pass for slaughter'd His harness * dropping blood, and on his spear

men; The mangled head of Priam's youngest son ; So, leaning on his sword, he stood stone-still, And, after him, his band of Myrmidons,

Viewing the fire wherewith rich Ilion burnt. With balls of wild-fire in their murdering paws, By this, I got my father on my back, Which made the funeral flame that burnt fair This young boy in mine arms, and by the hand Troy ;

Led fair Creusa, my beloved wife ; All which hemm'd me about, crying, “This is he!". When thou, Achates, with thy sword mad'st way, Dido. Ah, how could poor Æneas scape their And we were round environ'd with the Greeks : hands?

0, there I lost my wife ! and, had not we Æn. My mother Venus, jealous of my health, Fought manfully, I had not told this tale. Convey'd me from their crooked nets and bands; Yet manhood would not serve; of force we ded; So I escap'd the furious Pyrrhus' wrath :

And, as we went unto our ships, thou know'st Who then ran to the palace of the king,

We saw Cassandra sprawling in the streets, And at Jove's altar finding Priamus,

Whom Ajax ravish'd in Diana's fane, t
About whose wither'd neck hung Hecuba,
Folding his hand in hers, and jointly both

* vind] OM ed. "wound"-Mr. Collier (Hist. of Eng. Beating their breasts, and falling on the ground,

Dram. Poet, iii. 226) first saw the right reading bere, col.

paring the following passage in Shakespeare's Humnie, He, with his falchion's point rais'd up at once,

act ii. Sc. 2; And with Megæra's eyes, star'd in their face,

Unequal match'd, Threatening a thousand deaths at every glance :

Pyrrhus at Priam drives, in rige, strikes wide;
But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword

The unnerved father falls."
harness) i. e. armour.

t fane) Old ed. "Fawne."

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Her cheeks swollen with sighs, her hair all rent;
Whom I took up to bear unto our ships;
But suddenly the Grecians follow'd us,
And I, alas, was forc'd to let her lie!
Then got we to our ships, and, being aboard,
Polyxena cried out, "Æneas, stay!
The Greeks pursue me; stay, and take me in !"
Mov'd with her voice, I leap'd into the sea,
Thinking to bear her on my back aboard,
For all our ships were launch'd into the deep,
Aud, as I swom, she, standing on the shore,
Was by the cruel Myrmidons surpris'd,
And, after that, by • Pyrrhus sacrific'd.

Dido. I die with melting ruth; Æneas, leave.t
Anna. 0, what became of agèd Hecuba ?
Iar. How got Æneas to the fleet again ?
Dido. But how scap'd Helen, she that caus'd

this war? Æn. Achates, speak; gorrow hath tir'd me

quite. Ach. What happen'd to the queen we cannot

Asc. Shall I have such a quiver and a bow?
Ven. Such bow, such quiver, and such golden

shafts,
Will Dido give to sweet Ascanius.
For Dido's sake I take thee in my arms,
And stick these spangled feathers in thy hat :
Eat comfits in mine arms, and I will sing.*

[Singe.
Now is be fast asleep; and in this grove,
Amongst green brakes, I'll lay Ascanius,
And strew him with sweet-smelling violets,
Blushing roses, purple hyacinths : +
These milk-white doves shall be his centronels,*
Who, if that any seek to do bim hurt,
Will quickly fly to Cytherea's & fista
Now, Cupid, turn thee to Ascanius' shape,
And go to Dido, who, instead of him,
Will set thee on her lap, and play with thee :
Then touch her white breast with this arrow-head,
That she may dote upon Æneas' love,
And by that means repair his broken ships,
Victual his soldiers, give him wealthy gifts,
And he, at last, depart to Italy,
Or else in Carthage make his kingly throne.

Cup. I will, fair mother; and so play my part As every touch shall wound Queen Dido's heart.

(Erit. Ven. Sleep, my sweet nephew,ll in these cooling

shades, Free from the murmur of these running streams, The cry of beasts, the rattling of the winds, Or whisking of these leaves : all shall be still, And nothing interrupt thy quiet sleep, Till I return, and take thee hence again. [Exit.

sbew;

We hear they led her captive into Greece:
As for Æneas, be swom quickly back;
And Helena betray'd Deiphobus,
Her lover, after Alexander died,
And so was reconcil'd to Menelaus.
Dido. O, had that ticing strumpet ne'er been

born !
Trojan, thy ruthful tale hath made me sad :
Come, let us think upon some pleasing sport,
To rid me from these melancholy thoughts.

(Exeunt all except ASCANIUS, whom VENUS, entering

with COPID at another door, takes by the sleeve

as he is going off Ven. Fair child, stay thou with Dido's waiting

maid:
I'll give thee sugar-almonds, sweet conserves,
A silver girdle, and a golden purse,
And this young prince shall be thy playfellow.

Asc. Are you Queen Dido's son?
Cup. Ay; and my mother gave me this fine

bow.

* I will sing) Here, most probably, the boy who acted Venus was to sing any song that he happened to know. After the song the scene is supposed to be changed to a grove.

hyacinths) Old ed. “Hyaciuthe.” – “Read," says J. M. (Gent. Magazine for Jan. 1841),

• With blushing roses, purple hyacinth." But see note II, p. 18.

centronels) i. e. sentinels. Compare B. Barnes's Divils Charter, 1607;

* And bere for this night I keepe centrenell
For Muscopateron great king of Ayes," &c.

Sig. F. 2. & Cytherea's) Old ed. “Citheidas. Il nephew) i. e. grandson (Lat. nepos).

And, after that, by] Oid ed. " And after by that." leavej i. e. cease.

ACT III.

Enter CUPID * as ASCAXIUS. Cup. Now, Cupid, cause the Carthaginian queen To be enamour'd of thy brother's looks: Convey this golden arrow in thy sleeve, Lest she imagine thou art Venus' son ; And when she strokes thee softly on the head, Then shall I touch her breast and conquer her.

Cup. An if my mother go, I'll follow her.
Dido. Why stay'st thou here! thou art no love

of mine. Iar. Iarbas, die, seeing she abandons thee! Dido. No; live, larbas : what hast thou de

serv'd,
That I should say thou art no love of mine!
Something thou hast deserv'd.--Away, I say !
Depart from Carthage; come not in my sight

Jar. Am I not king of rich Gætulia!
Dido. Iarbas, pardon me, and stay a while.
Cup. Mother, look here.

Dido. What tell'st thou me of rich Gætulia ! Am not I queen of Libya ? then depart.

Iar. I go to feed the humour of my love, Yet not from Carthage for a thousand worlds.

Dido. Iarbas ! lar. Doth Dido call mo back? Dido. No; but I charge thee never look on me. Iar. Then pull out both mine eyes, or let me die.

[Erit. Anna. Wherefore doth Dido bid Iarbas go? Dido. Because his loathsome sight offends

mine eye,

Enter DIDO, ANNA, and IARBAS. lar. How long, fair Dido, shall I pine for thee? 'Tis not enough that thou dost grant me love, But that I may enjoy what I desire : Tbat love is childish which consists in words. Dido. Iarbas, know, that thou, of all my

wooers,
And yet have I had many mightier kings,-
Hast had the greatest favours I could give.
I fear me, Dido hath been counted light
In being too familiar with Jarbas ;
Albeit the gods do know, no wanton thought
Had ever residence in Dido's breast.

lar. But Dido is the favour I request.
Dido. Fear not, Iarbas; Dido may be thine.

Anna. Look, sister, how Æneas' little son
Plays with your garments and embraceth you.

Cup. No, Dido will not take me in her arms;
I shall not be her son, she loves me not.
Dido. Weep not, sweet boy; thou shalt be

Dido's son:
Sit in my lap, and let me hear thee sing.

(CUPID sings.t No more, my child; now talk another while, And tell me where learn'dst thou this pretty

song. Cup. My cousin Helen taught it me in Troy. Dido. How lovely is Ascanius when he smiles ! Cup. Will Dido let me hang about her neck ? Dido. Ay, wag; and give thee leave to kiss

her too. Cup. What will you give me now? I'll have

this fan. Dido. Take it, Ascanius, for thy father's sake. Iar. Come, Dido, leave Ascanius ; let us walk. Dido. Go thou away; Ascanius shall stay. lar. Ungentle queen, is this thy love to me? Dido. O, stay, larbas, and I'll go with thee !

And in my thoughts is shrin'd another love.
O Anna, didst thou know how sweet love were,
Full soon wouldst thou abjure this single life!
Anna. Poor soul, I know too well the sour of

love: 0, that Iarbas could but fancy me! (A side.

Dido. Is not Æneas fair and beautiful!
Anna. Yes; and larbas foul and favourless. *
Dido. Is he not eloquent in all his speech?
Anna. Yes; and Iarbas rude and rustical.
Dido. Name not larbas : but, sweet Anna,

say, Is not Æneas worthy Dido's love? Anna. O sister, were you empress of the

world, Æneas well deserves to be your love! So lovely is he, that, where'er he goes, The people swarm to gaze him in the face. Dido. But tell them, none shall gaze on him

but I, Lest their gross eye-beams taint my lover's

cheeks.

• Bnter Cupid, &c.) Scene, a hall in Dido's palace. † Cupid sings] Soe note , p. 259.

* foul and favourless] A pleonastic expression; for both words have much the same meaning, viz. ogly.

Anna, good sister Anna, go for him,

Through which the water shall delight to play; Lest with these sweet thoughts I melt clean Thy anchors shall be hew'd from crystal rocks, away.

Which, if thou lose, shall shine above the waves ; Anna. Then, sister, you'll abjure Iarbas' love ? The masts, whereon thy swelling sails shall bang, Dido. Yet must I hear that loathsome name Hollow pyramides * of silver plate; again!

The sails of folded lawn, where shall be wrought Run for Æneas, or I'll fly to him. (Ecit Anna. | The wars of Troy,—but not Troy's overthrow; Cup. You shall not hurt my father when he For ballass,t empty Dido's treasury : comes.

Take what ye will, but leave Æneas here. Dido. No; for thy sake I'll love thy father Achates, thou shalt be so seemly I clad, well.

As sea-born nymphs shall swarm about thy O dull-conceited Dido, that till now

ships, Didst never think Æneas beautiful!

And wanton mermaids court theo with sweet But now, for quittance of this oversight,

songs, I'll make me bracelets of his golden hair; Flinging in favours of more sovereign worth His glistering eyes shall be my looking-glass ; Than Thetis hangs about Apollo's neck, His lips an altar, where I'll offer up

So that Æneas may but stay with me. As many kisses as the sea hath sands;

En. Wherefore would Dido have Æneas stay? Instead of inusic I will hear him speak;

Dido. To war against my bordering enemies. His looks shall be my only library ;

Æneas, think not Dido is in love; And thou, Æneas, Dido's treasury,

For, if that any man could conquer me, In whose fair bosom I will lock more wealth I had been wedded ere Æneas came: Than twenty thousand Indias can afford.

See, where the pictures of my suitors hang; 0, here he comes! Love, love, give Dido leave And are not these as fair as fair may be? To be more modest than her thoughts admit, Ach. I saw this man at Troy, ere Troy was Lest I be made a wonder to the world. I

sack'd.

Serg. § I this in Greece, when Paris stole fair Enter Æneas, ACHATES, SERGESTUS, ILIONEUA, and

Helen.
CLOAXTHUS.

Ni. This man and I were at Olympia's || Achates, how doth Carthage please your lord ?

games. Ach. That will Æneas shew your majesty. Serg. I know this face; he is a Persian born : Dido. Æneas, art thou there?

I travell’d with him to Ætolia. En. I understand, your highness sent for me. Cloan. And I in Athens with this gentleman, Dido. No; but, now thou art here, tell me, in Unless I be deceiv'd, disputed once. sooth,

Dido. But speak, Æneas; know you none of In what might Dido highly pleasure thee.

these? Æn. So much have I receiv'd at Dido's hands, Æn. No, madam ; but it seems that these are As, without blushing, I can ask no more :

kings. Yet, queen of Afric, are my ships uprigg'd,

Dido. All these, and others which I never saw, My sails all rent in sunder with the wind, Have been most urgent suitors for my love; My oars broken, and my tackling lost, Yea, all my navy split with rocks and shelves;

pyramides) Mr. Collier (Hist. of Engl. Dram. Poct. Nor stern nor anchor have our maimèd fleet;

iii. 228) is mistaken in stating that bere the old ed. had Our masts the furious winds struck overboard : "pyramids."-Our early authors generally wrote pyra Which piteous wants if Dido will supply, mides ” (a plural regularly formed from “pyrumis "); ad We will account her author of our lives.

we have already had in these plays,

* Like to the shadows of Pyramides," &c. Dido. Æneas, I'll repair thy Trojan ships,

First Part of Tamburlane, p. 27, sec. COL Conditionally that thou wilt stay with me,

“Bosides the gates, and high pyramides," &c. And let Achates sail to Italy:

Faustus, p. 91, sec. col I'll give thee tackling made of rivell’d* gold,

t ballass] Spelt here in old ed. "ballace", -i. e. ballast

* seemly) Old ed. “meanly."-I at first conjecturel, Wound on the barks of odoriferous trees;

"meetly.”—Mr. Collier pronounces the right reading to Oars of massy ivory, full of holes,

be “newly."

§ Serg.) The old ed. has "Æn."; which is proved to

bu wrong by the next speech of Dido. * rivelld] i. e. (I suppose) twistod.

|| Olympia's) Old od. “Olympus."

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.'

Some came in person, others sent their legates,
Yet vone obtain'd me: I am free from all;
And yet, God knows, entangled unto one. 1
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 bate.

Æn. 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.--0, if I speak, I shall betray myself! [Aside.]—Æneas, come:

eit 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 I to Ascanius, who lies asleep. Juno. Here lies my hate, Æneas' cursèd 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 triuinph 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 ber Ascanius die? 0, no! God wot, I cannot watch my time, Nor quit a good turns with double fee down

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

Enter VENUS.
Ven. What should this mean? my doves are

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 bere? · Avaunt, old witch! and trouble not ing 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 bir so. Bootless, I saw, it was to war with fate That hath so many unresisted I 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;

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* now] Old ed. "how."

t 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 od. “face."-"

-Omit," says J. M. (Gent. Magazine for Jan. 1841), “the second 'the' in this line."

|| let-out | Old ed. "left out." Iquit] i. e. requite. ** mind) Old ed. "made."—The modern editors print

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

+ prest) i. e. ready, near.
I unresisted) i. e. irresistible.
§ chang'd] Old ed. "change."

"migat."

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