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And also furniture for these my men.

IAR: If that be all, then cheer thy drooping looks, For I will furnish thee with such supplies. Let some of those thy followers go with me, And they shall have what thing soe'er thou need'st.

Æn. Thanks, good larbas, for thy friendly aid. Achates and the rest shall wait on thee, Whil'st I rest thankful for this courtesy.

[Erit Iurbas and Æneas's train. Now will I haste unto Lavinian shore, And raise a new foundation to old Troy. Witness the gods, and witness heaven and earth, How loth I am to leave these Lybian bounds, But that eternal Jupiter commands.

[Eril.

SCENE II.

Enter Dido.
Dido. I fear I saw Encas' little son,
Led by Achates to the Trojan fleet :
If it be so, his father means to fly ;
But here he is; now, Dido, try thy wit.

Enter Æneas.
Æneas, wherefore go thy men aboard ?
Why are thy ships new rigged? Or to what end
Launch'd from the haven, lie they in the road?
Pardon me, though I ask; love makes me ask.

Ex. 0, pardon me, if I resolve thee why:
Æneas will not feign with his dear love;
I must from hence: this day, swift Mercury,
When I was laying a platform for these walls,

Sent from his father Jove, appear'd to me,
And in his name rebuk'd me bitterly,
For ling'ring here, neglecting Italy.

Dido. But yet Æneas will not leave his love.

Æx. I am commanded, by immortal Jove,
To leave this town, and pass to Italy,
And therefore must of force.

Dido. These words proceed not from Æneas' heart.

Æn. Not from my heart, for I can hardly go ;
And yet I may not stay. Dido, farewell!
Dido. Farewell ! is this the 'mends for Dido's

love ?
Do 'Trojans use to quit their lovers thus ?
Farewell may Dido, so Æneas stay;
I die, if my Æneas say farewell !

Æn. Then let me go, and never say farewell.
Let me go; farewell! I must from hence.

Dido. These words are poison to poor Dido's soul: 0, speak like my Æneas, like my love. Why look'st thou toward the sea ? The time hath

been
When Dido's beauty chain'd thine eye to her.
Am I less fair, than when thou saw'st me first?
O, then, Æneas, 'tis for grief of thee.
Say thou wilt stay in Carthage with thy queen,
And Dido's beauty will return again.
Æneas, say, how can’st thou take thy leave?
Wilt thou kiss Dido? O, thy lips have sworn
To stay with Dido: can'st thou take her hand ?
Thy hand and mine have plighted mutual faith,

Therefore, unkind Æneas, must thou say,
Then let me go, and never say farewell.

Æn. O, Queen of Carthage, wert thou ugly black,
Æneas could not choose but hold thee dear:
Yet must he not gainsay the gods' behest.

Dido. The gods ! what gods be those that seek

my death?

Wherein have I offended Jupiter,
That he should take Æneas from mine arms ?
O, no, the gods weigh not what lovers do;
It is Æneas calls Æneas hence,
And woeful Dido, by these blubber'd cheeks,
By this right hand, and by our spousal rights,
Desires Æneas to remain with her;
Si bene quid de te merui, fuit aut tibi quidquam
Dulce meum, miserere domús labentis : et istam
Oro, si quis adhuc precibus locus, erue mentem.

Æn. Desine meque tuis incendere teque querelis :
Italiam non sponte sequor."
Dido. Hast thou forgot how many neighbour

kings Were up in arms, for making thee my love ? How Carthage did rebel, Iarbas storm, And all the world callid me a second Helen, For being entangl’d by a stranger's looks; So thou would'st prove as true as Paris did, Would, as fair Troy was, Carthage might be sack'd, And I be call'd a second Helena. Had I a son by thee, the grief were less,

• Virgil, lib. iv.

That I might see Æneas in his face :
Now if thou goest, what can'st thou leave behind,
But rather will augment than ease my woe?
Æn. In vain, my love, thou spend'st thy fainting

breath; If words might move me, I were overcome. Dido. And wilt thou not be mov'd with Dido's

words?
Thy mother was no goddess, perjur'd man!
Nor Dardanus the author of thy stock;
But thou art sprung from Scythian Caucasus,
And tigers of Hyrcania gave thee suck.
Ah, foolish Dido, to forbear thus long!
Wast thou not wreck'd upon this Lybian shore,
And cam'st to Dido like fisher swain?
Repair’d not I thy ships, made thee a king,
And all thy needy followers noblemen?
O serpent ! that came creeping from the shore,
And I for pity harbour'd in my bosom;
Wilt thou now slay me with thy venom'd sting,
And hiss at Dido for preserving thee?
Go, go, and spare not; seek out Italy :
I hope, that that which love forbids me do,
The rocks and sea-gulls will perform at large,
And thou shalt perish in the billows' ways,
To whom poor Dido doth bequeath revenge:
Aye, traitor! and the waves shall cast thee

up,
Where thou and false Achates first set foot;
Which, if it chance, I'll give ye burial,
And weep upon your lifeless carcases,

Though thou nor he will pity me a whit.
Why star'st thou in my face? If thou wilt stay,
Leap in mine arms; mine arms are open wide;
If not, turn from me, and I'll turn from thee:
For though thou hast the power to say,

farewell! I have not power to stay thee.—{Erit Æneas.] Is

he gone?
Aye, but he'll come again; he cannot go;
He loves me too, too well to serve me so:
Yet he that in my sight would not relent,
Will, being absent, be obdurate still :
By this is he got to the water-side;
And see, the sailors take him by the hand;
But he shrinks back; and now, rememb’ring me,
Returns amain : welcome, welcome, my love!
But where's Æneas ? Ah ! he's gone, he's gone!

Enter ANNA.
ANNA. What means my sister, thus to rave and

cry?
Dido. O Anna! my Æneas is aboard,
And, leaving me, will sail to Italy.
Once did'st thou go, and he came back again;
Now bring him back, and thou shalt be a queen,
And I will live a private life with him.

ANNA. Wicked Æneas !
Dido. Call him not wicked, sister; speak him

fair,
And look upon him with a mermaid's eye:
Tell him, I never vow'd at Aulis' gulf
The desolation of his native Troy,

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