_Anna._ Yes, and _Iarbus_ foule and fauourles.

_Dido._ Is he not eloquent in all his speech?

_Anna._ Yes, and _Iarbus_ rude and rusticall.

_Dido._ Name not _Iarbus_, but sweete _Anna_ say, Is not _aeneas_ worthie _Didos_ loue?

_Anna._ O sister, were you Empresse of the world, _aeneas_ well deserues to be your loue, So lovely is he that where ere he goes, The people swarme to gaze him in the face.

_Dido._ But tell them none shall gaze on him but I, Lest their grosse eye-beames taint my louers cheekes: _Anna_, good sister _Anna_ goe for him, Lest with these sweete thoughts I melt cleane away.

_Anna._ Then sister youle abiure _Iarbus_ loue?

_Dido._ Yet must I heare that lothsome name againe?

Runne for _aeneas_, or Ile flye to him. _Exit Anna._

_Cupid._ You shall not hurt my father when he comes.

_Dido._ No, for thy sake Ile loue thy father well.

O dull conceipted _Dido_, that till now Didst neuer thinke _aeneas_ beautifull: But now for quittance of this ouersight, Ile make me bracelets of his golden haire, His glistering eyes shall be my looking gla.s.se, His lips an altar, where Ile offer vp As many kisses as the Sea hath sands, In stead of musicke I will heare him speake, His lookes shall be my only Librarie, And thou _aeneas, Didos_ treasurie, In whose faire bosome I will locke more wealth, Then twentie thousand Indiaes can affoord: O here he comes, loue, loue, giue _Dido_ leaue To be more modest then her thoughts admit, Lest I be made a wonder to the world.

_Achates_, how doth _Carthage_ please your Lord?

_Acha._ That will _aeneas_ shewe your maiestie.

_Dido._ _aeneas_ art thou there?

_aen._ I vnderstand your highnesse sent for me.

_Dido._ No, but now thou art here, tell me in sooth, In what might _Dido_ highly pleasure thee.

_aen._ So much haue I receiu'd at _Didos_ hands, As without blushing I can aske no more: Yet Queene of _Affricke_, are my ships vnrigd, My Sailes all rent in sunder with the winde, My Oares broken, and my Tackling lost, Yea all my Nauie split with Rockes and Shelfes: Nor Sterne nor Anchor haue our maimed Fleete, Our Masts the furious windes strooke ouer bourd: Which piteous wants if _Dido_ will supplie, We will account her author of our liues.

_Dido._ _aeneas_, Ile repaire thy Troian ships, Conditionally that thou wilt stay with me, And let _Achates_ saile to _Italy_: Ile giue thee tackling made of riueld gold, Wound on the barkes of odoriferous trees, Oares of ma.s.sie Iuorie full of holes, Through which the water shall delight to play: Thy Anchors shall be hewed from Christall Rockes, Which if thou lose shall shine aboue the waues; The Masts whereon thy swelling sailes shall hang, Hollow Pyramides of siluer plate: The sailes of foulded Lawne, where shall be wrought The warres of _Troy_, but not _Troyes_ ouerthrow: For ballace, emptie _Didos_ treasurie, Take what ye will, but leaue _aeneas_ here.

_Achates_, thou shalt be so meanly clad, As Seaborne Nymphes shall swarme about thy ships, And wanton Mermaides court thee with sweete songs, Flinging in fauours of more soueraigne worth, Then _Thetis_ hangs about _Apolloes_ necke, So that _aeneas_ may but stay with me.

_aen._ Wherefore would _Dido_ haue _aeneas_ stay?

_Dido._ To warre against my bordering enemies: _aeneas_, thinke not _Dido_ is in loue: For if that any man could conquer me, I had been wedded ere _aeneas_ came: See where the pictures of my suiters hang, And are not these as faire as faire may be?

_Acha._ I saw this man at _Troy_ ere _Troy_ was sackt.

_aen._ I this in _Greece_ when _Paris_ stole faire _Helen_.

_Illio._ This man and I were at _Olympus_ games.

_Serg._ I know this face, he is a Persian borne, I traueld with him to _aetolia_.

_Cloan._ And I in _Athens_ with this gentleman, Vnlesse I be deceiu'd disputed once.

_Dido._ But speake _aeneas_, know you none of these?

_aen._ No Madame, but it seemes that these are Kings.

_Dido._ All these and others which I neuer sawe, Haue been most vrgent suiters for my loue, Some came in person, others sent their Legats: Yet none obtaind me, I am free from all, And yet G.o.d knowes intangled vnto one.

This was an Orator, and thought by words To compa.s.se me, but yet he was deceiu'd: And this a Spartan Courtier vaine and wilde, But his fantastick humours pleasde not me: This was _Alcion_, a Musition, But playd he nere so sweet, I let him goe: This was the wealthie King of _Thessaly_, But I had gold enough and cast him off: This _Meleagers_ sonne, a warlike Prince, But weapons gree not with my tender yeares: The rest are such as all the world well knowes, Yet how I sweare by heauen and him I loue, I was as farre from loue, as they from hate.

_aen._ O happie shall he be whom _Dido_ loues.

_Dido._ Then neuer say that thou art miserable, Because it may be thou shalt be my loue: Yet boast not of it, for I loue thee not, And yet I hate thee not: O if I speake I shall betray my selfe: _aeneas_ speake, We two will goe a hunting in the woods, But not so much for thee, thou art but one, As for _Achates_, and his followers. _Exeunt._

_Enter Iuno to Ascanius asleepe._

_Iuno._ Here lyes my hate, _aeneas_ cursed brat, The boy wherein false destinie delights, The heire of furie, the fauorite of the face, That vgly impe that shall outweare my wrath, And wrong my deitie with high disgrace: But I will take another order now, And race th'eternall Register of time: _Troy_ shall no more call him her second hope, Nor _Venus_ triumph in his tender youth: For here in spight of heauen Ile murder him, And feede infection with his left out life: Say _Paris_, now shall _Venus_ haue the ball?

Say vengeance, now shall her _Ascanius_ dye.

O no G.o.d wot, I cannot watch my time, Nor quit good turnes with double fee downe told: Tut, I am simple without made to hurt, And haue no gall at all to grieue my foes: But l.u.s.tfull _Ioue_ and his adulterous child, Shall finde it written on confusions front, That onely _Iuno_ rules in _Rhamnuse_ towne.

_Enter Venus._

_Venus._ What should this meane? my Doues are back returnd, Who warne me of such daunger prest at hand, To harme my sweete _Ascanius_ louely life.

_Iuno_, my mortall foe, what make you here?

Auaunt old witch and trouble not my wits.

_Iuno._ Fie _Venus_, that such causeles words of wrath, Should ere defile so faire a mouth as thine: Are not we both sp.r.o.ng of celestiall rase, And banquet as two Sisters with the G.o.ds?

Why is it then displeasure should disioyne, Whom kindred and acquaintance counites.

_Venus._ Out hatefull hag, thou wouldst haue slaine my sonne, Had not my Doues discou'rd thy entent: But I will teare thy eyes fro forth thy head, And feast the birds with their bloud-shotten balles, If thou but lay thy fingers on my boy.

_Iuno._ Is this then all the thankes that I shall haue, For sauing him from Snakes and Serpents stings, That would haue kild him sleeping as he lay?

What though I was offended with thy sonne, And wrought him mickle woe on sea and land, When for the hate of Troian _Ganimed_, That was aduanced by my _Hebes_ shame, And _Paris_ iudgement of the heauenly ball, I mustred all the windes vnto his wracke, And vrg'd each Element to his annoy: Yet now I doe repent me of his ruth, And wish that I had neuer wrongd him so: Bootles I sawe it was to warre with fate, That hath so many vnresisted friends: Wherefore I chaunge my counsell with the time, And planted loue where enuie erst had sp.r.o.ng.

_Venus._ Sister of _Ioue_, if that thy loue be such, As these thy protestations doe paint forth, We two as friends one fortune will deuide: _Cupid_ shall lay his arrowes in thy lap, And to a Scepter chaunge his golden shafts, Fancie and modestie shall liue as mates, And thy faire peac.o.c.kes by my pigeons pearch: Loue my _aeneas_, and desire is thine, The day, the night, my Swannes, my sweetes are thine.

_Iuno._ More then melodious are these words to me, That ouercioy my soule with their content: _Venus_, sweete _Venus_, how may I deserue Such amourous fauours at thy beautious hand?

But that thou maist more easilie perceiue, How highly I doe prize this amitie, Harke to a motion of eternall league, Which I will make in quittance of thy loue: Thy sonne thou knowest with _Dido_ now remaines, And feedes his eyes with fauours of her Court, She likewise in admyring spends her time, And cannot talke nor thinke of ought but him: Why should not they then ioyne in marriage, And bring forth mightie Kings to Carthage towne, Whom casualtie of sea hath made such friends?

And _Venus_, let there be a match confirmd Betwixt these two, whose loues are so alike, And both our Deities conioynd in one, Shall chaine felicitie vnto their throne.

_Venus._ Well could I like this reconcilements meanes, But much I feare my sonne will nere consent, Whose armed soule alreadie on the sea, Darts forth her light to _Lauinias_ sh.o.a.re.

_Iuno._ Faire Queene of loue, I will deuorce these doubts, And finde the way to wearie such fond thoughts: This day they both a hunting forth will ride Into these woods, adioyning to these walles, When in the midst of all their gamesome sports, Ile make the Clowdes dissolue their watrie workes, And drench _Silua.n.u.s_ dwellings with their shewers, Then in one Caue the Queene and he shall meete, And interchangeably discourse their thoughts, Whose short conclusion will seale vp their hearts, Vnto the purpose which we now propound.

_Venus._ Sister, I see you sauour of my wiles, Be it as you will haue for this once, Meane time, _Ascanius_ shall be my charge, Whom I will beare to _Ida_ in mine armes, And couch him in _Adonis_ purple downe, _Exeunt._

_Enter Dido, aeneas, Anna, Iarbus, Achates, and followers._

_Dido._ _aeneas_, thinke not but I honor thee, That thus in person goe with thee to hunt: My princely robes thou seest are layd aside, Whose glittering pompe _Dianas_ shrowdes supplies, All fellowes now disposde alike to sporte, The woods are wide, and we haue store of game: Faire Troian, hold my golden bowe awhile, Vntill I gird my quiuer to my side: Lords goe before, we two must talke alone.

_Iar._ Vngentle, can she wrong _Iarbus_ so?

Ile dye before a stranger haue that grace: We two will talke alone, what words be these?