DIDO DREADS HER LOVER'S DEPARTURE.
ACT IV., SCENE 4.
Dido. Speaks not Æneas like a conqueror ?
O blessed tempests that did drive him in !
O happy sand that made him run aground!
Henceforth you shall be our Carthage gods.
Ay, but it may be, he will leave my love,
And seek a foreign land call'd Italy:
O, that I had a charm to keep the winds
Within the closure of a golden ball;
Or that the Tyrrhene sea were in mine arms,
That he might suffer shipwreck on my breast,
As oft as he attempts to hoist up sail !
I must prevent him; wishing will not serve.—
Go bid my nurse take young Ascanius,
And bear him in the country to her house;
Eneas will not go without his son;
Yet, lest he should, for I am full of fear,
Bring me his oars, his tackling, and his sails.
[Exit First Lord.
What if I sink his ships? O, he will frown!
Better he frown than I should die for grief.
I cannot see him frown; it may not be :
Armies of foes resolv'd to win this town,
Or impious traitors vow'd to have my life,
Affright me not; only Eneas' frown
Is that which terrifies poor Dido's heart:
Not bloody spears, appearing in the air,
Presage the downfall of my empery,
Nor blazing comets threatened Dido's death;
It is Eneas' frown that ends my days.
If he forsake me not, I never die ;
For in his looks I see eternity,
And he'll make me immortal with a kiss.
THE NURSE AS TEMPTRESS.
ACT IV., SCENE 5.
Enter Nurse, with CUPID as ASCANIUS.
Nurse. My Lord Ascanius, you must go with me.
Cup. Whither must I go? I'll stay with my mother.
Nurse. No, thou shalt go with me unto my house.
I have an orchard that hath store of plums,
Brown almonds, services, ripe figs, and dates,
Dewberries, apples, yellow oranges;
A garden where are bee-hives full of honey,
Musk-roses, and a thousand sort of flowers ;
And in the midst doth run a silver stream,
Where thou shalt see the red-gill'd fishes leap,
White swans, and many lovely water-fowls.
Now speak, Ascanius, will you go or no?
Cup. Come, come, I'll go. How far hence is your house?
Nurse. But hereby, child; we shall get thither straight.
Cup. Nurse, I am weary; will you carry me? Nurse. Ay, so you'll dwell with me, and call me mother.
Cup. So you'll love me, I care not if I do.
Nurse. That I might live to see this boy a man! How prettily he laughs! Go, you wag! You'll be a twigger when you come to age. Say Dido what she will, I am not old; I'll be no more a widow; I am young; I'll have a husband, or else a lover. Cup. A husband, and no teeth!
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 entangled by a stranger's looks?
So thou wouldst 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 go'st, what canst 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
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 this long !—
Wast thou not wreck'd upon this Libyan 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-gulfs will perform at large,
And thou shalt perish in the billows' ways,
To whom poor Dido doth bequeath revenge :
Ay, traitor and the waves shall cast thee up,
Where thou and false Achatos first set foot;
Which if it chance, I'll give ye burial,
And weep upon your lifeless carcasses,
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 heart to say farewell,
I have not power to stay thee.
[Exit ENEAS.
Is he gone?
Ay, 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, he has got to the water-side;
And, see, the sailors take him by the hand;
But he shrinks back; and now, remembering me,
Returns amain: welcome, welcome, my love!
But where's Æneas? ah, he's gone, he's gone!
Dido. O Anna, Anna, I will follow him!
Anna. How can you go, when he hath all your fleet?
Dido. I'll frame me wings of wax, like Icarus,
And, o'er his ships, 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 Arion'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 'em up to heaven,
And now down fall the keels into the deep!
O sister, sister, take away the rocks!
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