The Tragedy of Dido Queene of Carthage.

by Christopher Marlowe.

Played by the Children of her _Maiesties Chappell._

Written by Christopher Marlowe, and _Thomas Nash. Gent._

Actors

_Iupiter._ _Ascanius._ _Ganimed._ _Dido._ _Venus._ _Anna._ _Cupid._ _Achates._ _Iuno._ _Ilioneus._ _Mercurie._ _Iarbas._ _Hermes._ _Cloanthes._ _aeneas._ _Sergestus._

[Ill.u.s.tration: (Decorative) "BY PEACE PLENTY, BY WISDOME PEACE"]

AT LONDON,

Printed, by the Widdowe _Orwin_, for _Thomas Woodc.o.c.ke_, and are to be solde at his shop, in Paules Church-yeard, at the signe of the blacke Beare. 1594.

[Ill.u.s.tration: (Decorative)]

The Tragedie of _Dido_ Queene _of Carthage._

_Here the Curtaines draw, there is discovered_ Iupiter _dandling_ Ganimed _upon his knee, and_ Mercury _lying asleepe_.

_Iup._ Come gentle _Ganimed_ and play with me, I loue thee well, say _Iuno_ what she will.

_Gan._ I am much better for your worthles loue, That will not shield me from her shrewith blowes: To day when as I fild into your cups, And held the cloath of pleasance whiles you dranke, She reacht me such a rap for that I spilde, As made the bloud run downe about mine eares.

_Iup._ What? dares she strike the darling of my thoughts?

By _Saturnes_ soule, and this earth threatning aire, That shaken thrise, makes Natures buildings quake, I vow, if she but once frowne on thee more, To hang her meteor like twixt heauen and earth, And bind her hand and foote with golden cordes, As once I did for harming _Hercules_.

_Gan._ Might I but see that pretie sport a foote, O how would I with _Helens_ brother laugh, And bring the G.o.ds to wonder at the game: Sweet _Iupiter_, if ere I pleasde thine eye, Or seemed faire walde in with Egles wings, Grace my immortall beautie with this boone, And I will spend my time in thy bright armes.

_Iup._ What ist sweet wagge I should deny thy youth?

Whose face reflects such pleasure to mine eyes, As I exhal'd with thy fire darting beames, Haue oft driuen backe the horses of the night.

When as they would haue hal'd thee from my sight: Sit on my knee, and call for thy content, Controule proud Fate, and cut the thred of time, Why are not all the G.o.ds at thy commaund, And heauen and earth the bounds of thy delight?

_Vulcan_ shall daunce to make thee laughing sport, And my nine Daughters sing when thou art sad, From _Iunos_ bird Ile pluck her spotted pride, To make thee fannes wherewith to coole thy face, And _Venus_ Swannes shall shed their siluer downe, To sweeten out the slumbers of thy bed: _Hermes_ no more shall shew the world his wings, If that thy fancie in his feathers dwell, But as this one Ile teare them all from him, Doe thou but say their colour pleaseth me: Hold here my little loue these linked gems, My _Iuno_ ware vpon her marriage day, Put thou about thy necke my owne sweet heart, And tricke thy armes and shoulders with my theft.

_Gan._ I would haue a iewell for mine eare, And a fine brouch to put in my hat, And then Ile hugge with you an hundred times.

_Iup._ And shall haue _Ganimed_, if thou wilt be my loue.

_Enter Venus._

_Venus._ I this is it, you can sit toying there, And playing with that female wanton boy, Whiles my _aeneas_ wanders on the Seas, And rests a pray to euery billowes pride.

_Iuno_, false _Iuno_ in her Chariots pompe, Drawne through the heauens by Steedes of _Boreas_ brood, Made _Hebe_ to direct her ayrie wheeles Into the windie countrie of the clowdes, Where finding _aeolus_ intrencht with stormes, And guarded with a thousand grislie ghosts, She humbly did beseech him for our bane, And charg'd him drowne my sonne with all his traine.

Then gan the windes breake ope their brazen doores, And all _aeolia_ to be vp in armes: Poore _Troy_ must now be sackt vpon the Sea, And _Neptunes_ waues be enuious men of warre, _Epeus_ horse to _aetnas_ hill transformd, Prepared stands to wracke their woodden walles, And _aeolus_ like _Agamemnon_ sounds The surges, his fierce souldiers to the spoyle: See how the night _Ulysses_-like comes forth, And intercepts the day as _Dolon_ erst: Ay me! the Starres supprisde like _Rhesus_ Steedes, Are drawne by darknes forth _Astraeus_ tents.

What shall I doe to saue thee my sweet boy?

When as the waues doe threat our Chrystall world, And _Proteus_ raising hils of flouds on high, Entends ere long to sport him in the skie.

False _Iupiter_, rewardst thou vertue so?

What? is not pietie exempt from woe?

Then dye _aeneas_ in thine innocence, Since that religion hath no recompence.

_Iup._ Content thee _Cytherea_ in thy care, Since thy _aeneas_ wandring fate is firme, Whose wearie lims shall shortly make repose, In those faire walles I promist him of yore: But first in bloud must his good fortune bud, Before he be the Lord of _Turnus_ towne, Or force her smile that hetherto hath frownd: Three winters shall he with the Rutiles warre, And in the end subdue them with his sword, And full three Sommers likewise shall he waste, In mannaging those fierce barbarian mindes: Which once performd, poore _Troy_ so long supprest, From forth her ashes shall aduance her head, And flourish once againe that erst was dead: But bright _Ascanius_ beauties better worke, Who with the Sunne deuides one radiant shape, Shall build his throne amidst those starrie towers, That earth-borne _Atlas_ groning vnderprops: No bounds but heauen shall bound his Emperie, Whose azured gates enchased with his name, Shall make the morning halt her gray vprise, To feede her eyes with his engrauen fame.

Thus in stoute _Hectors_ race three hundred yeares, The Romane Scepter royall shall remaine, Till that a Princesse priest conceau'd by _Mars_, Shall yeeld to dignitie a dubble birth, Who will eternish _Troy_ in their attempts.

_Venus._ How may I credite these thy flattering termes, When yet both sea and sands beset their ships, And _Phbus_ as in stygian pooles, refraines To taint his tresses in the Tyrrhen maine?

_Iup._ I will take order for that presently: _Hermes_ awake, and haste to _Neptunes_ realme, Whereas the Wind-G.o.d warring now with Fate, Besiege the ofspring of our kingly loynes, Charge him from me to turne his stormie powers, And fetter them in _Vulcans_ st.u.r.die bra.s.se, That durst thus proudly wrong our kinsmans peace.

_Venus_ farewell, thy sonne shall be our care: Come _Ganimed_, we must about this geare.

_Exeunt Iupiter c.u.m Ganimed._

_Venus._ Disquiet Seas lay downe your swelling lookes, And court _aeneas_ with your calmie cheere, Whose beautious burden well might make you proude, Had not the heauens conceau'd with hel-borne clowdes, Vaild his resplendant glorie from your view, For my sake pitie him _Ocea.n.u.s_, That erst-while issued from thy watrie loynes, And had my being from thy bubling froth: _Triton_ I know hath fild his trumpe with _Troy_, And therefore will take pitie on his toyle, And call both _Thetis_ and _Cimodoae_, To succour him in this extremitie.

_Enter aeneas with Ascanius, with one or two more._

What? doe I see my sonne now come on sh.o.a.re: _Venus_, how art thou compast with content, The while thine eyes attract their sought for ioyes: Great _Iupiter_, still honourd maist thou be, For this so friendly ayde in time of neede.

Here in this bush disguised will I stand, Whiles my _aeneas_ spends himselfe in plaints, And heauen and earth with his vnrest acquaints.

_aen._ You sonnes of care, companions of my course, _Priams_ misfortune followes vs by sea, And _Helens_ rape doth haunt thee at the heeles.

How many dangers haue we ouer past?

Both barking _Scilla_, and the sounding Rocks, The _Cyclops_ shelues, and grim _Ceranias_ seate Haue you oregone, and yet remaine aliue!

Pluck vp your hearts, since fate still rests our friend, And chaunging heauens may those good daies returne, Which _Pergama_ did vaunt in all her pride.

_Acha._ Braue Prince of _Troy_, thou onely art our G.o.d, That by thy vertues freest vs from annoy, And makes our hopes suruiue to cunning ioyes: Doe thou but smile, and clowdie heauen will cleare, Whose night and day descendeth from thy browes: Though we be now in extreame miserie, And rest the map of weatherbeaten woe: Yet shall the aged Sunne shed forth his aire, To make vs liue vnto our former heate, And euery beast the forrest doth send forth, Bequeath her young ones to our scanted foode.

_Asca._ Father I faint, good father giue me meate.

_aen._ Alas sweet boy, thou must be still a while, Till we haue fire to dresse the meate we kild: Gentle _Achates_, reach the Tinder boxe, That we may make a fire to warme vs with, And rost our new found victuals on this sh.o.a.re.

_Venus._ See what strange arts necessitie findes out, How neere my sweet _aeneas_ art thou driuen?

_aen._ Hold, take this candle and goe light a fire, You shall haue leaues and windfall bowes enow Neere to these woods, to rost your meate withall: _Ascanius_, goe and drie thy drenched lims, Whiles I with my _Achates_ roaue abroad, To know what coast the winde hath driuen vs on, Or whether men or beasts inhabite it.

_Acha._ The ayre is pleasant, and the soyle most fit For Cities, and societies supports: Yet much I maruell that I cannot finde, No steps of men imprinted in the earth.

_Venus._ Now is the time for me to play my part: Hoe yong men, saw you as you came Any of all my Sisters wandring here?

Hauing a quiuer girded to her side, And cloathed in a spotted Leopards skin.

_aen._ I neither saw nor heard of any such: But what may I faire Virgin call your name?

Whose lookes set forth no mortall forme to view, Nor speech bewraies ought humaine in thy birth, Thou art a G.o.ddesse that delud'st our eyes, And shrowdes thy beautie in this borrowd shape; But whether thou the Sunnes bright Sister be, Or one of chast _Dianas_ fellow Nimphs, Liue happie in the height of all content, And lighten our extreames with this one boone, As to instruct us vnder what good heauen We breathe as now, and what this world is calde, On which by tempests furie we are cast, Tell vs, O tell vs that are ignorant, And this right hand shall make thy Altars crack With mountaine heapes of milke white Sacrifize.