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Now Cupid cause the Carthaginian Queene,

To be inamourd of thy brothers lookes,

Convey this golden arrowe in thy sleeve,

Lest she imagine thou art Venus sonne:

And when she strokes thee softly on the head,

Then shall I touch her breast and conquer her.

Enter Iarbus, Anna, and Dido.

How long faire Dido shall I pine for thee?

Tis not enough that thou doest graunt me love,

But that I may enjoy what I desire:

That love is childish which consists in words.

Iarbus, know that thou of all my wooers

(And yet have I had many mightier Kings)

Hast had the greatest favours I could give:

I feare me Dido hath been counted light,

In being too familiar with Iarbus:

Albeit the Gods doe know no wanton thought

Had ever residence in Didos breast.

But Dido is the favour I request.

Feare not Iarbus, Dido may be thine.

Looke sister how Aeneas little sonne

Playes with your garments and imbraceth you.

No Dido will not take me in her armes,

I shall not be her sonne, she loves me not.

Weepe not sweet boy, thou shalt be Didos sonne,

Sit in my lap and let me heare thee sing.

[Cupid sings.]

No more my child, now talke another while,

And tell me where learndst thou this pretie song?

My cosin Helen taught it me in Troy.

How lovely is Ascanius when he smiles?

Will Dido let me hang about her necke?

I wagge, and give thee leave to kisse her to.

What will you give me now? Ile have this Fanne.

Take it Ascanius, for thy fathers sake.

Come Dido, leave Ascanius, let us walke.

Goe thou away, Ascanius shall stay.

Ungentle Queene, is this thy love to me?

O stay Iarbus, and Ile goe with thee.

And if my mother goe, Ile follow her.

Why staiest thou here? thou art no love of mine.

Iarbus dye, seeing she abandons thee.

No, live Iarbus, what hast thou deserv'd,

That I should say thou art no love of mine?

Something thou hast deserv'd.— Away I say,

Depart from Carthage, come not in my sight.

Am I not King of rich Getulia?

Iarbus pardon me, and stay a while.

Mother, looke here.

What telst thou me of rich Getulia?

Am not I Queen of Libia? then depart.

I goe to feed the humour of my Love,

Yet not from Carthage for a thousand worlds.

Iarbus.

Doth Dido call me backe?

No, but I charge thee never looke on me.

Then pull out both mine eyes, or let me dye.

Exit Iarbus.

Wherefore doth Dido bid Iarbus goe?

Because his lothsome sight offends mine eye,

And in my thoughts is shrin'd another love:

O Anna, didst thou know how sweet love were,

Full soone wouldst thou abjure this single life.

Poore soule I know too well the sower of love, [Aside.]

O that Iarbus could but fancie me.

Is not Aeneas faire and beautifull?

Yes, and Iarbus foule and favourles.

Is he not eloquent in all his speech?

Yes, and Iarbus rude and rusticall.

Name not Iarbus, but sweete Anna say,

Is not Aeneas worthie Didos love?

O sister, were you Empresse of the world,

Aeneas well deserves to be your love,

So lovely is he that where ere he goes,

The people swarme to gaze him in the face.

But tell them none shall gaze on him but I,

Lest their grosse eye-beames taint my lovers cheekes:

Anna, good sister Anna goe for him,

Lest with these sweete thoughts I melt cleane away.

Then sister youle abjure Iarbus love?

Yet must I heare that lothsome name againe?

Runne for Aeneas, or Ile flye to him.

Exit Anna.

You shall not hurt my father when he comes.

No, for thy sake Ile love thy father well.

O dull conceipted Dido, that till now

Didst never thinke Aeneas beautifull:

But now for quittance of this oversight,

Ile make me bracelets of his golden haire,

His glistering eyes shall be my looking glasse,

His lips an altar, where Ile offer up

As many kisses as te 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, love, love, give Dido leave

To be more modest then her thoughts admit,

Lest I be made a wonder to the world.

[Enter Aeneas, Achates, Sergestus, Illioneus, and Cloanthus.]

Achates, how doth Carthage please your Lord?

Achates

That will Aeneas shewe your majestie.

Aeneas, art thou there?

I understand your highnesse sent for me.

No, but now thou art here, tell me in sooth

In what might Dido highly pleasure thee.

So much have I receiv'd at Didos hands,

As without blushing I can aske no more:

Yet Queene of Affricke, are my ships unrigd,

My Sailes all rent in sunder with the winde,

My Oares broken, and my Tackling lost,

Yea all my Navie split with Rockes and Shelfes:

Nor Sterne nor Anchor have our maimed Fleete,

Our Masts the furious windes strooke over bourd:

Which piteous wants if Dido will supplie,

We will account her author of our lives.

Aeneas, Ile repaire thy Trojan ships,

Conditionally that thou wilt stay with me,

And let Achates saile to Italy:

Ile give thee tackling made of riveld gold,

Wound on the barkes of odoriferous trees,

Oares of massie Ivorie 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 above the waves:

The Masts whereon thy swelling sailes shall hang,

Hollow Pyramides of silver plate:

The sailes of foulded Lawne, where shall be wrought

The warres of Troy, but not Troyes overthrow:

For ballace, emptie Didos treasurie,

Take what ye will, but leave 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 favours of more soveraigne worth,

Then Thetis hangs about Apolloes necke,

So that Aeneas may but stay with me.

Wherefore would Dido have Aeneas stay?

To warre against my bordering enemies:

Aeneas, thinke not Dido is in love:

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?

Achates

I saw this man at Troy ere Troy was sackt.

I this in Greece when Paris stole fair Helen.

Illioneus

This man and I were at Olympus games.

Sergestus

I know this face, he is a Persian borne,

I traveld with him to Aetolia.

Cloanthus

And I in Athens with this gentleman,

Unlesse I be deceiv'd disputed once.

But speake Aeneas, know you none of these?

No Madame, but it seemes that these are Kings.

All these and others which I never sawe,

Have been most urgent suiters for my love,

Some came in person, others sent their Legats:

Yet none obtaind me, I am free from all. —

And yet God knowes intangled unto one.— [Aside.]

This was an Orator, and thought by words

To compasse me, but yet he was deceiv'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 heaven and him I love,

I was as farre from love, as they from hate.

O happie shall he be whom Dido loves.