Page:The works of Christopher Marlowe - ed. Dyce - 1859.djvu/327

Rh Æn. What ails my queen? is she faln sick of late?

Dido. Not sick, my love; but sick I must conceal

The torment that it boots me not reveal:

And yet I'll speak,—and yet I'll hold my peace.

Do shame her worst, I will disclose my grief:

Æneas, thou art he—what did I say?

Something it was that now I have forgot.

Æn. What means fair Dido by this doubtful speech?

Dido. Nay, nothing; but Æneas loves me not.

Æn. Æneas' thoughts dare not ascend so high

As Dido's heart, which monarchs might not scale.

Dido. It was because I saw no king like thee,

Whose golden crown might balance my content;

But now that I have found what to affect,

I follow one that loveth fame 'fore me,

And rather had seem fair [in] Sirens' eyes,

Than to the Carthage queen that dies for him.

Æn. If that your majesty can look so low

As my despisèd worths that shun all praise,

With this my hand I give to you my heart,

And vow, by all the gods of hospitality,

By heaven and earth, and my fair brother's bow,

By Paphos, Capys, and the purple sea

From whence my radiant mother did descend,

And by this sword that sav'd me from the Greeks,

Never to leave these new-uprearèd walls,

Whiles Dido lives and rules in Juno's town,—

Never to like or love any but her!

Dido. What more than Delian music do I hear,

That calls my soul from forth his living seat

To move unto the measures of delight?

Kind clouds, that sent forth such a courteous storm

As made disdain to fly to fancy's lap!

Stout love, in mine arms make thy Italy,

Whose crown and kingdom rests at thy command:

Sichæus, not Æneas, be thou call'd;

The king of Carthage, not Anchises' son:

Hold, take these jewels at thy lover's hand,

These golden bracelets, and this wedding-ring,

Wherewith my husband woo'd me yet a maid,

And be thou king of Libya by my gift.

Ach. Did ever men see such a sudden storm,

Or day so clear so suddenly o'ercast?

Iar. I think some fell enchantress dwelleth here,

That can call them forth whenas she please,

And dive into black tempest's treasury,

Whenas she means to mask the world with clouds.

Anna. In all my life I never knew the like;

It hail'd, it snow'd, it lighten'd, all at once.

Ach. I think, it was the devil's revelling night,

There was such hurly-burly in the heavens:

Doubtless Apollo's axle-tree is crack'd,

Or agèd Atlas' shoulder out of joint,

The motion was so over-violent.

Iar. In all this coil, where have ye left the queen?

Asc. Nay, where's my warlike father, can you tell?

Anna. Behold, where both of them come forth the cave.

Iar. Come forth the cave! can heaven endure this sight?

Iarbas, curse that unrevenging Jove,

Whose flinty darts slept in Typhœus' den,

Whiles these adulterers surfeited with sin.

Nature, why mad'st me not some poisonous beast,

That with the sharpness of my edgèd sting

I might have stak'd them both unto the earth,

Whilst they were sporting in this darksome cave?