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. Æneas, leave these dumps, and let's away, Some to the mountains, some unto the soil,

You to the vallies, thou unto the house.

[Exeunt all but Iarbas.

IAR. Aye, this it is which wounds me to the death,

To see a Phrygian, far set to 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 wronged with disdain,
Revenge me on Æneas, 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 fancies' 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. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

A 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, here we are loose And yet, I am not free; oh, would I were! EN. Why, what is 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 die.

EN. It is not aught Æneas may achieve? DIDO. Æneas, no; although his eyes do pierce. EN. What, hath Iarbas anger'd her in aught? And will she be avenged on his life?

DIDO. Not anger'd me, except in ang'ring thee. EN. Who then, of all so cruel, may he be, That should detain thine eye in his defects?

DIDO. The man that I do eye where'er I am;
Whose amorous face, like Pæan's, sparkles fire,
When as he butts his beams on Flora's bed.
Prometheus hath put on Cupid's shape,
And I must perish in his burning arms:

Eneas, O Æneas! quench these flames.

EN. What ails my queen? Is she fall'n sick of late? DIDO. Not sick, my love, but sick: I must 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:
Æneas, 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. Æneas' 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 for me,
And rather had seen fair 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,
And vow, by all the gods of hospitality,

By heaven and earth, and my fair brother's bow,
By Paphos, Capys, and the purple sea,

From whence my radiant mother did descend,

And by this sword, that saved me from the Greeks,

Never to leave these new upreared walls,

While 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 rest 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,
These golden bracelets, and this wedding ring,
Wherewith my husband woo'd me yet a maid,
And be thou king of Lybia by my gift.

[Exeunt to the Cave.

ACT THE FOURTH.

SCENE I.

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

ACHA. 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 when as she please, And dive into black tempests' treasury,

When as 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.
ACHA. I think, it was the devil's rev'lling night,

VOL. I.

25

There was such a hurly-burly in the heavens :
Doubtless, Apollo's axle-tree is crack'd,
Or aged Atlas' shoulder out of joint,

The motion was so over violent.

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

ASCA. 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 the

sight?

Iarbas, curse that unrevenging Jove,

Whose flinty darts slept in Tiphous' den,
While these adult'rers surfeited with sin:
Nature, why mad'st me not some pois'nous beast,
That, with the sharpness of my edged sting,
I might have stak'd them both unto the earth,
Whilst they were sporting in this darksome cave?
Enter ENEAS 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? JAR. Not with Æneas in the ugly cave.