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The Works of Christopher Marlowe

Dido

Act: 5 Scene: 1

Triumph, my mates, our travels are at end,

Here will Aeneas build a statelier Troy,

Then that which grim Atrides overthrew:

Carthage shall vaunt her pettie walles no more,

For I will grace them with a fairer frame,

And clad her in a Chrystall liverie,

Wherein the day may evermore delight:

From golden India Ganges will I fetch,

Whose wealthie streames may waite upon her towers,

And triple wise intrench her round about:

The Sunne from Egypt shall rich odors bring,

Wherewith his burning beames like labouring Bees,

That bade their thighes with Hyblas honeys spoyles,

Shall here unburden their exhaled sweetes,

And plant our pleasant suburbes with her fumes.

Not past foure thousand paces at the most.

That have I not determinde with my selfe.

Nay, I will haue it calde Anchisaeon,

Of my old fathers name.

Whom doe I see, Joves winged messenger?

Welcome to Carthage new erected towne.

This was my mother that beguild the Queene,

And made me take my brother for my sonne:

No marvell Dido though thou be in love,

That daylie dandlest Cupid in thy armes:

Welcome sweet child, where hast thou been this long?

Sergestus, beare him hence unto our ships,

Lest Dido spying him keepe him for a pledge.

How should I put into the raging deepe,

Who have no sailes nor tackling for my ships?

What, would the Gods have me, Deucalion like,

Flote up and downe where ere the billowes drive?

Though she repairde my fleete and gave me ships,

Yet hath she tane away my oares and masts,

And left me neither saile nor sterne abourd.

Iarbus, I am cleane besides my selfe,

Jove hath heapt on me such a desperate charge,

Which neither art nor reason may atchieve,

Nor I devise by what meanes to contrive.

With speede he bids me saile to Italy,

When as I want both rigging for my fleete,

And also furniture for these my men.

Thankes good Iarbus for thy friendly ayde,

Achates and the rest shall waite on thee,

Whil'st I rest thankfull for this curtesie.

Exit Iarbus and Aeneas traine.

Now will I haste unto Lavinian shoare,

And raise a new foundation to old Troy,

Witnes the Gods, and witnes heaven and earth,

How loth I am to leave these Libian bounds,

But that eternall Jupiter commands.

O pardon me, if I resolve thee why:

Aeneas will not fame with his deare love,

I must from hence: this day swift Mercury

When I was laying a platforme for these walies,

Sent from his father Jove, appeard to me,

And in his name rebukt me bitterly,

For lingering here, neglecting Italy.

I am commaunded by immortall Jove,

To leave this towne and passe to Italy,

And therefore must of force.

Not from my heart, for I can hardly goe,

And yet I may not stay, Dido farewell.

Then let me goe and never say farewell?

O Queene of Carthage, wert thou ugly blacke,

Aeneas could not choose but hold thee deare,

Yet must he not gainsay the Gods behest.

Desine meque tuis incendere teque querelis,

Italiam non sponte sequor.

In vaine my love thou spendst thy fainting breath,

If words might move me I were overcome.