O, happy sand that made him run aground! Or that the Tyrrhene sea were in mine arms, I must prevent him, wishing will not serve; [One of the attendants goes out. What if I sink his ships? O, he will frown: And he'll make me immortal with a kiss. Enter a LORD. Lond. Your nurse is gone with young Ascanius; And here's Eneas' tackling, oars, and sails. DIDO. Are these the sails that, in despite of me, I'll set the casement open, that the winds Is this the wood that grew in Carthage plains, O, cursed tree, had'st thou but wit or sense, To measure how I prize Æneas' love, Thou would'st have leap'd from out the sailors' hands, And told me that Eneas 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, Why should I blame Æneas for his flight? O, Dido, blame not him, but break his oars; These were the instruments that launch'd him forth; But dares to heap up sorrow to my heart. And swim to Italy, I'll keep these sure: SCENE V. [Exeunt. Enter the NURSE with CUPID, 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, A garden where are bee-hives full of honey, 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. Cur. 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; Cur. Come, nurse. NURSE. Well, if he come a wooing he shall speed; O, how unwise was I to say him nay! [Exeunt. ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I. 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. ACIA. What length or breadth shall this brave town contain? |