Page:The works of Christopher Marlowe - ed. Dyce - 1859.djvu/325

 Fancy and modesty shall live as mates,

And thy fair peacocks by my pigeons perch;

Love my Æneas, and desire is thine;

The day, the night, my swans, my sweets, are thine,

Juno. More than melodious are these words to me,

That overcloy my soul with their content.

Venus, sweet Venus, how may I deserve

Such amorous favours at thy beauteous hand?

But, that thou mayst more easily perceive

How highly I do prize this amity,

Hark to a motion of eternal league,

Which I will make in quittance of thy love.

Thy son, thou know'st, with Dido now remains,

And feeds his eyes with favours of her court;

She, likewise, in admiring spends her time,

And cannot talk nor think of aught but him:

Why should not they, then, join in marriage,

And bring forth mighty kings to Carthage-town,

Whom casualty of sea hath made such friends?

And, Venus, let there be a match confirm'd

Betwixt these two, whose loves are so alike;

And both our deities, conjoin'd in one,

Shall chain felicity unto their throne.

Ven. Well could I like this reconcilement’s means;

But much I fear, my son will ne'er consent,

Whose armèd 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.

This day they both a-hunting forth will ride

Into the woods adjoining to these walls;

When, in the midst of all their gamesome sports,

I'll make the clouds dissolve their watery works,

And drench Silvanus' dwellings with their showers;

Then in one cave the queen and he shall meet,

And interchangeably discourse their thoughts,

Whose short conclusion will seal up their hearts

Unto the purpose which we now propound.

Ven. Sister, I see you savour of my wiles:

Be it as you will have [it] for this once.

Meantime Ascanius shall be my charge;

Whom I will bear to Ida in mine arms,

And couch him in Adonis' purple down.

Dido. Æneas, 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 a while,

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 could have gone without your company.

Æn. 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 you grown so brave,

To challenge us with your comparisons?

Peasant, go seek companions like thyself,

And meddle not with any that I love.—

Æneas, 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,

I would have either drunk his dying blood,

Or else I would have given my life in gage.

Dido. Huntsmen, why pitch you not your toils apace,

And rouse the light-foot deer from forth their lair?

Anna. Sister, see, see Ascanius in his pomp,

Bearing his hunt-spear bravely in his hand!

Dido. Yea, little son, are you so forward now?

Cup. Ay, mother; I shall one day be a man,

And better able unto other arms;

Meantime these wanton weapons serve my war,

Which I will break betwixt a lion’s jaws.

Dido. What, dar'st thou look a lion in the face?

Cup. Ay; and outface him too, do what he can.

Anna. How like his father speaketh he in all!