The Tragedy of Dido, Queene of Carthage/act1

Actus 1

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Here the Curtaines draw, there is discovered Iupiter dandling Ganimed upon his knee, and Mercury lying asleepe.

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 * 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 Gods 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 Gods 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.

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Enter Venus.

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 * Venus.
 * I this is it, you can sit toying there,
 * And playing with that female wanton boy,
 * Whiles my Æneas 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 Æolus 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 Æolia 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 Ætnas hill transformd,
 * Prepared stands to wracke their woodden walles,
 * And Æolus 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 Astræus 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 Æneas in thine innocence,
 * Since that religion hath no recompence.


 * Iup.
 * Content thee Cytherea in thy care,
 * Since thy Æneas 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 Ph[oe]bus 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-god 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 sturdie brasse,
 * That durst thus proudly wrong our kinsmans peace.
 * Venus farewell, thy sonne shall be our care:
 * Come Ganimed, we must about this geare.

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Exeunt Iupiter cum Ganimed.

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 * Venus.
 * Disquiet Seas lay downe your swelling lookes,
 * And court Æneas 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 Oceanus,
 * 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 Cimodoæ,
 * To succour him in this extremitie.

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Enter Æneas with Ascanius, with one or two more.

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 * What? doe I see my sonne now come on shoare:
 * 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 Æneas spends himselfe in plaints,
 * And heauen and earth with his vnrest acquaints.


 * Æn.
 * 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 God,
 * 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.


 * Æn.
 * 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 shoare.


 * Venus.
 * See what strange arts necessitie findes out,
 * How neere my sweet Æneas art thou driuen?


 * Æn.
 * 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.


 * Æn.
 * 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 Goddesse 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.


 * Venus.
 * Such honour, stranger, doe I not affect:
 * It is the vse for Turen maides to weare
 * Their bowe and quiuer in this modest sort,
 * And suite themselues in purple for the nonce,
 * That they may trip more lightly ore the lawndes,
 * And ouertake the tusked Bore in chase.
 * But for the land whereof thou doest enquire,
 * It is the punick kingdome rich and strong,
 * Adioyning on Agenors stately towne,
 * The kingly seate of Southerne Libia,
 * Whereas Sidonian Dido rules as Queene.
 * But what are you that aske of me these things?
 * Whence may you come, or whither will you goe?


 * Æn.
 * Of Troy am I, Æneas is my name,
 * Who driuen by warre from forth my natiue world,
 * Put sailes to sea to seeke out Italy;
 * And my diuine descent from sceptred Iove,
 * With twise twelue Phrigian ships I plowed the deepe,
 * And made that way my mother Venus led:
 * But of them all scarce seuen doe anchor safe,
 * And they so wrackt and weltred by the waues,
 * As euery tide tilts twixt their oken sides:
 * And all of them vnburdened of their loade,
 * Are ballassed with billowes watrie weight.
 * But haples I, God wot, poore and vnknowne,
 * Doe trace these Libian deserts all despisde,
 * Exild forth Europe and wide Asia both,
 * And haue not any couerture but heauen.


 * Venus.
 * Fortune hath fauord thee what ere thou be,
 * In sending thee vnto this curteous Coast:
 * A Gods name on and hast thee to the Court,
 * Where Dido will receiue ye with her smiles:
 * And for thy ships which thou supposest lost,
 * Not one of them hath perisht in the storme,
 * But are ariued safe not farre from hence:
 * And so I leaue thee to thy fortunes lot,
 * Wishing good lucke vnto thy wandring steps. Exit.


 * Æn.
 * Achates, tis my mother that is fled,
 * I know her by the mouings of her feete:
 * Stay gentle Venus, flye not from thy sonne,
 * Too cruell, why wilt thou forsake me thus?
 * Or in these shades deceiu'st mine eye so oft?
 * Why talke we not together hand in hand?
 * And tell our griefes in more familiar termes:
 * But thou art gone and leau'st me here alone,
 * To dull the ayre with my discoursiue moane. Exit.

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Enter Illioneus, and Cloanthes.

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 * Illio.
 * Follow ye Troians, follow this braue Lord,
 * And plaine to him the summe of your distresse.


 * Iar.
 * Why, what are you, or wherefore doe you sewe?


 * Illio.
 * Wretches of Troy, enuied of the windes,
 * That craue such fauour at your honors feete,
 * As poore distressed miserie may pleade:
 * Saue, saue, O saue our ships from cruell fire,
 * That doe complaine the wounds of thousand waues,
 * And spare our liues whom euery spite pursues.
 * We come not we to wrong your Libian Gods,
 * Or steale your houshold lares from their shrines:
 * Our hands are not prepar'd to lawles spoyle,
 * Nor armed to offend in any kind:
 * Such force is farre from our vnweaponed thoughts,
 * Whose fading weale of victorie forsooke,
 * Forbids all hope to harbour neere our hearts.


 * Iar.
 * But tell me Troians, Troians if you be,
 * Vnto what fruitfull quarters were ye bound,
 * Before that Boreas buckled with your sailes?


 * Cloan.
 * There is a place Hesperia term'd by vs,
 * An ancient Empire, famoused for armes,
 * And fertile in faire Ceres furrowed wealth,
 * Which now we call Italia of his name,
 * That in such peace long time did rule the same:
 * Thither made we,
 * When suddenly gloomie Orion rose,
 * And led our ships into the shallow sands,
 * Whereas the Southerne winde with brackish breath,
 * Disperst them all amongst the wrackfull Rockes:
 * From thence a fewe of vs escapt to land,
 * The rest we feare are foulded in the flouds.


 * Iar.
 * Braue men at armes, abandon fruitles feares,
 * Since Carthage knowes to entertaine distresse.


 * Serg.
 * I but the barbarous sort doe threat our ships,
 * And will not let vs lodge vpon the sands:
 * In multitudes they swarme vnto the shoare,
 * And from the first earth interdict our feete.


 * Iar.
 * My selfe will see they shall not trouble ye,
 * Your men and you shall banquet in our Court,
 * And euery Troian be as welcome here,
 * As Iupiter to sillie Vausis house:
 * Come in with me, Ile bring you to my Queene,
 * Who shall confirme my words with further deedes.


 * Serg.
 * Thankes gentle Lord for such vnlookt for grace,
 * Might we but once more see Æneas face,
 * Then would we hope to quite such friendly turnes,
 * As shall surpasse the wonder of our speech.

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