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O, happy sand that made him run aground!
Henceforth you shall be our Carthage gods.
Aye, but it may be he will leave my love,
And seek a foreign land, called Italy;
O, that I had a charm to keep the winds
Within the closure of a golden ball;
Or that the Tyrrhene sea were in mine arms,
That he might surfer shipwreck on my breast,
As oft as he attempts to hoist up sail!
I must prevent him, wishing will not serve;
Go, bid my nurse take young Ascanius,
And bear him in the country to her house,
iEneas will n otgo without his son;
Yet, lest he should, for I am full of fear,
Bring me his oars, his tackling, and his sails.
[One of the attendants goes out. What if I sink his ships? O, he will frown : Better he frown, than I should die for grief. I cannot see him ftown ;—it may not be; Armies of foes resolv'd to win this town, Or impious traitors vow'd to have my life, Affright me not, only ^Eneas' frown Is that which terrifies poor Dido's heart; Not bloody spears appearing in the air, Presage the downfall of my empery, Nor blazing comets threaten Dido's death; It is iEneas' frown that ends my days : If he forsake me not, I never die; For in his looks I see eternity,
And he'll make me immortal with a kiss.
Loud. Your nurse is gone with young Ascanius; And here's iEneas' tackling, oars, and sails.
Dido. Are these the sails that, in despite of me, Pack'd with the winds to bear iEneas hence ? Fll hang ye in the chamber where I lie; Drive if you can my house to Italy: I'll set the casement open, that the winds May enter in, and once again conspire Against the life of me, poor Carthage queen; But though he go, he stays in Carthage still, And let rich Carthage float upon the seas, So I may have iEneas in mine arms. Is this the wood that grew in Carthage plains, And would be toiling in the wat'ry billows, To rob their mistress of her Trojan guest ? O, cursed tree, had'st thou but wit or sense, To measure how I prize iEneas* love, Thou would'st have leap'd from out the sailors'
hands, And told me that iEneas meant to go ! And yet I blame thee not, thou art but wood. The water, which our poets term a nymph, Why did it suffer thee to touch her breast, And shrunk not back, knowing my love was there ? The water is an element, no nymph. Why should I blame iEneas for his flight? 0, Dido, blame not him, but break his oars;
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. [Exeunt.
Enter the Nurse with Cuptd, as Ascanius. Nurse. My lord Ascanius, ye must go with me. Cur. 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,
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
Cup. Come, nurse.
Nurse. Well, if he come a wooing he shall speed; 0, how unwise was I to say him nay ! [Exeunt.
ACT THE FIFTH.
Enter Jeneas, with a paper in his hand, drawing the
platform of the city: with him Achates, Cjlo
Anthus, and Ilioneus.
^en. Triumph, my mates! our travels are at end, Here will iEneas 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 Wring 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 ?