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And feeds his eyes with favours of her court;
Shall chain felicity unto their throne.
VEN. Well could I like this reconcilement's
But, much I fear, my son will ne'er consent;
Whose armed soul, already on the sea,
Darts forth her light to Lavinia's shore.
JUNO. Fair queen of love! I will divorce these doubts,
And find the way to weary such fond thoughts.
And couch him in Adonis' purple down.
Enter DIDO, ENEAS, ANNA, IARBAS, ACHATES and followers.
DIDO. Eneas, think not but I honour thee, That thus in person go with thee to hunt: My princely robes, thou see'st, are laid aside, Whose glittering pomp Diana's shroud supplies. All fellows now, dispos'd alike to sport; The woods are wide, and we have store of game. Fair Trojan, hold my golden bow awhile, Until I gird my quiver to my side: Lords, go before; we two must talk alone. IAR. Ungentle! can she wrong Iarbas so? I'll die before a stranger have that grace. We two will talk alone; -what words be these? DIDO. What makes Iarbas here of all the rest? We would have gone without your company. EN. But love and duty led him on perhaps, To press beyond acceptance to your sight.
IAR. Why, man of Troy, do I offend thine eyes? Or art thou griev'd thy betters press so nigh? DIDO. How now, Gætulian! are ye grown so brave To challenge us with your comparisons? Peasant! go seek companions like thyself, And meddle not with any that I love: Eneas, be not mov'd at what he says; For, otherwhile, he will be out of joint.
IAR. Women may wrong, by privilege of love; But, should that man of men, Dido except,
Have taunted me in these opprobrious terms,
DIDO. Huntsmen, why pitch you not your toils
And rouse the light-foot deer from forth their lair?
Mean time, these wanton weapons serve my war,
DIDO. What! dar'st thou look a lion in the face?
And dead to scorn that hath pursued me so.
EN. Stout friend Achates, do'st thou know this wood?
ACHA. As I remember, here you shot the deer That sav'd your famish'd soldiers' lives from death, When first you set your foot upon the shore; And here we met fair Venus, virgin like,
Bearing her bow and quiver at her back.
EN. O how these irksome labours now delight And overjoy my thoughts with their escape! Who would not undergo all kind of toil,
To be well stor'd with such a winter's tale?
DIDO. Æneas, leave these dumps, and let's away, Some to the mountains, some unto the soil,
You to the vallies, thou unto the house.
[Exeunt all but Iarbas.
IAR. Aye, this it is which wounds me to the death,
To see a Phrygian, far set to the sea,
Preferr'd before a man of majesty.
O love! O hate! O cruel women's hearts,
On her? fond man! that were to war 'gainst heaven,
And mould her mind unto new fancies' shapes.
And then,--what then?--Iarbas shall but love;
That resteth in the rival of thy pain,
Who ne'er will cease to soar till he be slain. [Exeunt.
A storm.-Enter ENEAS and DIDO in the cave, at several times.
DIDO. Tell me, dear love! how found you out this cave?
Ex. By chance, sweet queen! as Mars and Venus
DIDO. Why, that was in a net, here we are loose And yet, I am not free; oh, would I were ! Ex. Why, what is that Dido may desire, And not obtain, be it in human power? DIDO. The thing that I will die before I ask, And yet desire to have before I die.
Ex. It is not aught Æneas may achieve? DIDO. Eneas, no; although his eyes do pierce. Es. What, hath Iarbas anger'd her in aught? And will she be avenged on his life?
DIDO. Not anger'd me, except in ang'ring thee. EN. Who then, of all so cruel, may he be, That should detain thine eye in his defects? DIDO. The man that I do eye where'er I am; Whose amorous face, like Pæan's, sparkles fire, When as he butts his beams on Flora's bed. Prometheus hath put on Cupid's shape, And I must perish in his burning arms: