Therefore, unkind Eneas, must thou say,
Then let me go, and never say farewell.
EN. O, Queen of Carthage, wert thou ugly black, Eneas 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 Eneas from mine arms?
O, no, the gods weigh not what lovers do;
It is Eneas calls Eneas 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, exue mentem.
EN. 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 call'd 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,
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?
EN. 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 a 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.-[Exit Eneas.] 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 Eneas 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
And look upon him with a mermaid's eye:
Tell him, I never vow'd at Aulis' gulf
The desolation of his native Troy,
Nor sent a thousand ships unto the walls,
Nor ever violated faith to him;
Request him gently, Anna, to return:
I crave but this, he stay a tide or two,
That I may learn to bear it patiently:
If he depart thus suddenly, I die.
Run, Anna, run! stay not to answer me.
ANNA. I go, fair sister! heaven grant good suc
NURSE. O Dido! your little son Ascanius
Is gone! He lay with me last night,
And in the morning he was stol'n from me :
I think, some fairies have beguiled me.
DIDO. O cursed hag! and false dissembling wretch!
That slay'st me with thy harsh and hellish tale,
Thou, for some petty gift, hast let him go,
And I am thus deluded of my boy :
Away with her to prison presently!
Trait'ress too keen! and cursed sorceress !
NURSE. I know not what you mean by treason, I, I am as true as any one of
DIDO. Away with her! Suffer her not to speak! My sister comes; I like not her sad looks.
ANNA. Before I came, Eneas was aboard, And spying me, hoist up the sails amain;
But I cry'd out, Eneas! false Æneas! stay!'
Then 'gan he wag his hand, which, yet held up,
Made me suppose, he would have heard me speak;
Then 'gan they drive into the ocean;
Which, when I view'd, I cry'd, Eneas, stay!
Dido, fair Dido wills Eneas' stay!'
Yet he, whose heart's of adamant or flint,
My tears nor plaints could mollify a whit.
Then carelessly I rent my hair for grief;
Which seen to all, though he beheld me not,
They 'gan to move him to redress my ruth,
And stay awhile to hear what I could say ;
But he, clapp'd under hatches, sail'd away.
DIDO. O Anna! Anna! I will follow him.
ANNA. How can ye go, when he hath all your fleet?
DIDO. I'll frame me wings of wax, like Icarus,
And, o'er his ship, will soar unto the sun,
That they may melt, and I fall in his arms;
Or else, I'll make a prayer unto the waves,
That I may swim to him, like Triton's niece:
O Anna! fetch Orion's harp,
That I may 'tice a dolphin to the shore,
And ride upon his back unto my love!
Look, sister, look! lovely Eneas' ships;
See! see! the billows heave him up to heaven,
And now down fall the keels into the deep:
O sister, sister! take away the rocks;
They'll break his ships. O Proteus! Neptune! Jove!
Save, save Eneas; Dido's liefest love!
Now is he come on shore safe, without hurt;
But, see! Achates wills him put to sea,
And all the sailors merry make for joy;
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