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Iar. In all this coil, where have ye left the queen? Asc. Nay, where's my warlike father, can you tell? Anna. Behold, where both of them come forth the


lar. Come forth the cave! can heaven endure this


Iarbas, curse that unrevenging Jove,


Whose flinty darts slept in Typhoeus' 1 den,
Whiles these adulterers surfeited with sin.
Nature, why mad'st me not some poisonous beast,
That with the sharpness of my edgèd sting

I might have staked them both unto the earth,
Whilst they were sporting in this darksome cave!

Enter, from the cave, ÆNEAS and DIDO.



En. The air is clear, and southern winds are whist.2 Come, Dido, let us hasten to the town,

Since gloomy Æolus doth cease to frown.

Dido. Achates and Ascanius, well met.

Æn. Fair Anna, how escap'd you from the shower?
Anna. As others did, by running to the wood.
Dido. But where were you, Iarbas, all this while?
Iar. Not with Æneas in the ugly cave.

Dido. I see, Æneas sticketh in your mind;

But I will soon put by that stumbling-block,

And quell those hopes that thus employ your cares.3

1 Old ed. "Tiphous."
3 Old ed. "eares."

2 Still, hushed.




Enter1 IARBAS to sacrifice.

lar. Come, servants, come; bring forth the sacrifice, That I may pacify that gloomy Jove,

Whose empty altars have enlarg'd our ills.—

[Servants bring in the sacrifice, and then exeunt.

Eternal Jove, great master of the clouds,
Father of gladness and all frolic thoughts,

That with thy gloomy 2 hand corrects the heaven,
When airy creatures war amongst themselves;
Hear, hear, O, hear Iarbas' plaining prayers,
Whose hideous echoes make the welkin howl,
And all the woods Eliza3 to resound!
The woman that thou willed us entertain,
Where, straying in our borders up and down,
She crav'd a hide of ground to build a town,
With whom we did divide both laws and land,
And all the fruits that plenty else sends forth,
Scorning our loves and royal marriage-rites,
Yields up her beauty to a stranger's bed;

Who, having wrought her shame, is straightway fled :
Now, if thou be'st a pitying god of power,

On whom ruth and compassion ever waits,
Redress these wrongs, and warn him to his ships,
That now afflicts me with his flattering eyes.

1 Scene: a room in Iarbas' house.



2 The epithet "gloomy," here and in 1. 2, contrasts oddly with "Father of gladness and all frolic thoughts."

3 Elissa (Dido).

Enter ANNA.

Anna. How now, Iarbas! at your prayers so hard?

lar. I, Anna: is there aught you would with me?

Anna. Nay, no such weighty business of import But may be slacked until another time:

Yet, if

you would partake with me the cause
Of this devotion that detaineth you,
I would be thankful for such courtesy.
Iar. Anna, against this Trojan do I pray,
Who seeks to rob me of thy sister's love,
And dive into her heart by colour'd looks.
Anna. Alas, poor king, that labours so in vain
For her that so delighteth in thy pain!

Be rul'd by me, and seek some other love,

Whose yielding heart may yield thee more relief.

Iar. Mine eye is fixed where fancy cannot start :
O, leave me, leave me to my silent thoughts,
That register the numbers of my ruth,
And I will either move the thoughtless flint,
Or drop out both mine eyes in drizzling tears,
Before my sorrow's tide have any stint !

Anna. I will not leave Iarbas, whom I love,
In this delight of dying pensiveness.

Away with Dido! Anna be thy song;

Anna, that doth admire thee more than heaven.

Iar. I may nor will list to such loathsome change.

That intercepts the course of my desire.—

Servants, come fetch these empty vessels here;



For I will fly from these alluring eyes,

That do pursue my peace where'er it goes.


[Exit.-Servants re-enter, and carry out the vessels, &c. Anna. Iarbas, stay, loving Iarbas, stay!

For I have honey to present thee with.
Hard-hearted, wilt not deign to hear me speak?
I'll follow thee with outcries ne'ertheless,

And strew thy walks with my dishevell'd hair.



Enter ENEAS.1

En. Carthage, my friendly host, adieu !
Since Destiny doth call me from thy 2 shore :
Hermes this night, descending in a dream,
Hath summoned me to fruitful Italy;
Jove wills it so; my mother wills it so:
Let my Phoenissa grant, and then I go.
Grant she or no, Æneas must away;
Whose golden fortunes, clogg'd with courtly ease,
Cannot ascend to fame's immortal house,

Or banquet in bright Honour's burnished hall,
Till he hath furrowed Neptune's glassy fields,
And cut a passage through his topless 3 hills.-
Achates, come forth! Sergestus, Ilioneus,
Cloanthus, haste away! Eneas calls.

1 Scene: a room in Dido's palace.

2 Old ed. "the."


3 Cf. Faustus, scene xiv.-"And burnt the topless towers of Ilium."


Ach. What wills our lord, or wherefore did he call? En. The dreams, brave mates, that did beset my bed, When sleep but newly had embrac'd the night, Commands me leave these unrenowmèd realms,1 Whereas nobility abhors to stay,

And none but base Æneas will abide.
Aboard, aboard! since Fates do bid aboard,
And slice the sea with sable-colour'd ships,
On whom the nimble winds may all day wait,
And follow them, as footmen, through the deep.
Yet Dido casts her eyes, like anchors, out,
To stay my fleet from loosing forth the bay:
"Come back, come back," I hear her cry a-far,
"And let me link thy 2 body to my lips,

That, tied together by the striving tongues,
We may, as one, sail into Italy."

Ach. Banish that ticing dame from forth your mouth,

And follow your fore-seeing stars in all:

This is no life for men-at-arms to live,

Where dalliance doth consume a soldier's strength,
And wanton motions of alluring eyes

Effeminate our minds, inur'd to war.

Ili. Why, let us build a city of our own,

And not stand lingering here for amorous looks.



1 Old ed. "beames,"-a mistake, as Dyce observed, for "reames" (a

common form of "realms)."

Old ed. "my."


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