These were the instruments that launch'd him forth;
There's not so much as this base tackling too,
But dares to heap up sorrow to my heart.
Was it not you that hoisted up these sails?
Why burst you not, and they fell in the seas?
For this will Dido tie ye full of knots,
And shear ye all asunder with her hands;
Now serve to chastise shipboys for their faults,
Ye shall no more offend the Carthage queen.
Now, let him hang my favours on his masts,
And see if those will serve instead of sails;
For tackling, let him take the chains of gold,
Which I bestow'd upon his followers;
Instead of oars, let him use his hands,

And swim to Italy, I'll keep these sure:
Come, bear them in.

SCENE V.

[Exeunt.

Enter the NURSE with CUPID, as ASCANIUS. NURSE. My lord Ascanius, ye must go with me. CUP. Whither must I go? I'll stay with my mother.

NURSE. No, thou shalt go with me unto my
house.

I have an orchard that hath store of plums,
Brown almonds, servises, ripe figs, and dates,
Dewberries, apples, yellow oranges:

A garden where are bee-hives full of honey,
Musk-roses, and a thousand sorts of flowers;
And in the midst doth run a silver stream,

Where thou shalt see the red-gill'd fishes leap,
White swans, and many lovely water-fowls;
Now speak, Ascanius, will ye go or no?

CUP. Come, come, I'll go; how far hence is your house?

NURSE. But hereby, child, we shall get thither straight.

CUP. Nurse, I am weary, will you carry me?

NURSE. Aye, so you'll dwell with me, and call me mother.

CUP. So you'll love me, I care not if I do.

NURSE. That I might live to see this boy a man! How prettily he laughs. Go, ye wag, You'll be a twigger when you come to age. Say Dido what she will, I am not old; I'll be no more a widow, I am young, I'll have a husband, or else a lover. CUP. A husband and no teeth!

NURSE. O, what mean I to have such foolish

thoughts?

Foolish is love, a toy. O, sacred love!

If there be any heaven in earth, 'tis love,

Especially in women of your years.

Blush, blush for shame, why should'st thou think of love?

A grave, and not a lover, fits thy age;

A grave! why? I may live a hundred years,
Fourscore is but a girl's age. Love is sweet;
My veins are wither'd, and my sinews dry;
Why do I think of love now I should die?

Enter ENEAS, with a paper in his hand, drawing the platform of the city: with him ACHATES, CLOANTHUS, and ILIONEUS.

EN. Triumph, my mates! our travels are at end, Here will Æneas build a statelier Troy, Than that which grim Atrides overthrew. Carthage shall vaunt her petty walls no more. For I will grace them with a fairer frame, And clothe her in a crystal livery, Wherein the day may evermore delight; From golden India, Ganges will I fetch, Whose wealthy streams may wait upon her towers; And triple-wise intrench her round about; The sun from Egypt shall rich odours bring, Wherewith his burning beams, like lab'ring bees, That load their thighs with Hybla's honey-spoils, Shall here unburden their exhaled sweets, And plant our pleasant suburbs with her fumes. ACHA. What length or breadth shall this brave town contain?

EN. Not past four thousand paces at the most.
ILIO. But what shall it be call'd? Troy, as before?
EN. That have I not determin'd with myself.
CLO. Let it be term'd Ænea, by your name.
SERG. Rather Ascania, by your
little son.

EN. Nay, I will have it call'd Anchiseon,
Of my old father's name.

Enter HERMES with ASCANIUS.

HER. Æneas, stay! Jove's herald bids thee stay. EN. Whom do I see, Jove's winged messenger? Welcome to Carthage new-erected town.

HER. Why, cousin, stand you building cities here, And beautifying the empire of this queen, While Italy is clean out of thy mind? Too, too forgetful of thine own affairs, Why wilt thou betray thy son's good hap? The king of gods sent me from highest heav'n, To sound this angry message in thine ears: Vain man, what monarchy expect'st thou here? Or with what thought sleep'st thou on Lybia's shore ?

If that all glory hath forsaken thee,

And thou despise the praise of such attempts;
Yet think upon Ascanius' prophecy,

And young Iulus, more than thousand years,
Whom I have brought from Ida, where he slept,
And bore young Cupid unto Cypress isle.

EN. This was my mother that beguil❜d the

queen,

And made me take my brother for my son;

No marvel, Dido, though thou be in love,
That daily dandlest Cupid in thy arms:

Welcome, sweet child! where hast thou been this long?

Asc. Eating sweet comfits with Queen Dido's

maid,

Who ever since hath lull'd me in her arms.

EN. Sergestus, bear him hence unto our ships, Lest Dido, spying, keep him for a pledge.

HER. Spend'st thou thy time about this little boy,
And giv'st not ear unto the charge I bring?
I tell thee, thou must straight to Italy,
Or else abide the wrath of frowning Jove.

EN. How should I put into the raging deep,
Who have no sails or tackling for my ships?
What, would the gods have me, Deucalion-like,
Float up and down where'er the billows drive?
Though she repair'd my fleet and gave me ships,
Yet hath she ta'en away my oars and masts,
And left me neither sail nor stern aboard.

Enter to them IARBAS.

IAR. How now, Eneas, sad! What mean these dumps?

EN. Jarbas, I am clean beside myself;

Jove hath heap'd on me such a desp’rate charge,
Which neither art nor reason may achieve,
Nor I devise by what means to contrive.

IAR. As how, I pray? May I entreat you, tell? EN. With speed he bids me sail to Italy: Whereas I want both rigging for my fleet,

VOL. I.

26