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.
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. [Exit.
EN. Carthage, my friendly host, adieu!
Since destiny doth call me from thy shore:
Hermes this night, descending in a dream,
Hath summon'd me to fruitful Italy;
Jove wills it so, my mother wills it so :
Let my Phænissa grant, and then I go.
Grant she or no, Eneas must away;
Whose golden fortune, clogg'd with courtly ease,
Cannot ascend to fame's immortal house,
Or banquet in bright honour's burnish'd hall,
'Till he hath furrow'd Neptune's glassy fields,
And cut a passage through his topless hills.
Achates, come forth; Sergestus, Ilioneus,
Cloanthus, haste away; Eneas calls.
Enter ACHATES, CLOANTHUS, SERGESTUS, and
ILIONEUS.
ACHA. What wills our lord, or wherefore did he
EN. The dream, brave mates, that did beset my
bed,
When sleep but newly had embrac'd the night,
Commands me leave these unrenowned beams,
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 my body to thy lips,
That, tied together by the striving tongues,
We may, as one, sail into Italy.'
ACHA. Banish that 'ticing dame from forth your mouth,
And follow your fore-seeing star 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.
ILIO. Why, let us build a city of our own,
And not stand ling'ring here for am'rous looks.
Will Dido raise old Priam forth his grave,
And build the town again the Greeks did burn?
No, no; she cares not how we sink or swim,
So she may have Æneas in her arms.
CLO. To Italy, sweet friends! to Italy!
We will not stay a minute longer here.
EN. Trojans, aboard, and I will follow you:
I fain would go, yet beauty calls me back:
To leave her so, and not once say, farewell,
Were to transgress against all laws of love:
But, if I use such ceremonious thanks
As parting friends accustom on the shore,
Her silver arms will coil me round about,
And tears of pearl cry, 'stay, Æneas, stay;'
Each word she says will then contain a crown,
And every speech be ended with a kiss:
I may not dure this female drudgery:
To sea, Æneas, find out Italy.
SCENE IV.
Enter DIDO and ANNA.
DIDO. O, Anna, run unto the water-side;
They say Æneas' men are going aboard;
may be he will steal away with them:
Stay not to answer me; run, Anna, run,
O, foolish Trojans, that would steal from hence,
And not let Dido understand their drift:
I would have given Achates store of gold,
And Ilioneus gum and Lybian spice;
The common soldiers rich embroider'd coats,
And silver whistles to controul the winds,
Which Circe sent Sichæus when he liv'd:
Unworthy are they of a queen's reward.
See, where they come, how might I do to chide?
Enter ANNA, with ENEAS, ACHATES, ILIONEUS, SERGESTUS and ATTENDANTS.
ANNA. 'Twas time to run, Æneas had been gone; The sails were hoisting up, and he aboard.
DIDO. Is this thy love to me?
EN. O, princely Dido, give me leave to speak; I went to take my farewell of Achates.
DIDO. How haps Achates bid me not farewell? ACHA. Because I fear'd your grace would keep me
DIDO. To rid thee of that doubt, aboard again.
I charge thee put to sea, and stay not here.
ACHA. Then let Æneas go aboard with us.
DIDO. Get you aboard, Æneas means to stay.
EN. The sea is rough, the wind blows to the
shore.
DIDO. O, false Æneas, now the sea is rough,
But when you are aboard 'twas calm enough;
Thou and Achates meant to sail away.
EN. Hath not the Carthage queen mine only son?
Thinks Dido I will go and leave him here?
DIDO. Eneas, pardon me, for I forgot
That young Ascanius lay with me this night;
Love made me jealous; but, to make amends,
Wear the imperial crown of Lybia,
Sway thou the Punic sceptre in my stead,
And punish me, Æneas, for this crime.
EN. This kiss shall be fair Dido's punishment.
DIDO. O, how a crown becomes Eneas' head!
Stay here, Æneas, and command as king.
EN. How vain am I to wear this diadem,
And bear this golden sceptre in my hand!
[Aside.] A burgonet of steel, and not a crown,
A sword, and not a sceptre, fits Æneas.
DIDO. O, keep them still, and let me gaze my
Now looks Æneas like immortal Jove;
O, where is Ganymede, to hold his cup,
And Mercury, to fly for what he calls?
Ten thousand Cupids hover in the air,
And fan it in Æneas' lovely face:
O, that the clouds were here wherein thou fleest,
That thou and I unseen might sport ourselves;
Heaven, envious of our joys, is waxen pale;
And when we whisper, then the stars fall down,
To be partakers of our honey talk.
EN. O, Dido, patroness of all our lives,
When I leave thee, death be my punishment;
Swell, raging seas! frown, wayward destinies!
Blow, winds! threaten, ye rocks and sandy shelves! This is the harbour that Eneas seeks.
Let's see what tempests can annoy me now.
DIDO. Not all the world can take that from mine
Eneas may command as many Moors,
As in the sea are little water-drops,
And now, to make experience of my love,
Fair sister Anna, lead my lover forth,
And, seated on my jennet, let him ride
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