The Tragedy of Dido Queene of Carthage, by Christopher Marlowe

Actus 5.

Enter Æneas with a paper in his hand, drawing the platforme of the
citie, with him Achates, Cloanthus, and Illieneus.

Æn. Triumph my mates, our trauels are at end,
Here will Æneas build a statelier Troy,
Then that which grim Atrides ouerthrew:
Carthage shall vaunt her pettie walles no more,
For I will grace them with a fairer frame,
And clad her in a Chrystall liuerie,
Wherein the day may euermore delight:
From golden India Ganges will I fetch,
Whose wealthie streames may waite vpon 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 loade their thighes with Hyblas honeys spoyles,
Shall here vnburden their exhaled sweetes,
And plant our pleasant suburbes with her fumes.

Acha. What length or bredth shal this braue towne c[=o]taine?

Æn. Not past foure thousand paces at the most.

Illio. But what shall it be calde, Troy as before?

Æn. That haue I not determinde with my selfe.

Cloan. Let it be term’d Ænea by your name.

Serg. Rather Ascania by your little sonne.

Æn. Nay, I will haue it calde Anchisaon,
Of my old fathers name.

Enter Hermes with Ascanius.

Hermes. Æneas stay, Ioues Herald bids thee stay.

Æn. Whom doe I see, Ioues winged messenger?
Welcome to Carthage new erected towne.

Hermes. Why cosin, stand you building Cities here,
And beautifying the Empire of this Queene,
While Italy is cleane out of thy minde?
To too forgetfull of thine owne affayres,
Why wilt thou so betray thy sonnes good hap?
The king of Gods sent me from highest heauen,
To sound this angrie message in thine eares.
Vaine man, what Monarky expectst thou here?
Or with what thought sleepst thou in Libia shoare?
If that all glorie hath forsaken thee,
And thou despise the praise of such attempts:
Yet thinke vpon Ascanius prophesie,
And yong Iulus more then thousand yeares,
Whom I haue brought from Ida where he slept,
And bore yong Cupid vnto Cypresse Ile.

Æn. This was my mother that beguild the Queene,
And made me take my brother for my sonne:
No maruell Dido though thou be in loue,
That daylie danlest Cupid in thy armes:
Welcome sweet child, where hast thou been this long?

Asca. Eating sweet Comfites with Queene Didos maide,
Who euer since hath luld me in her armes.

Æn. Sergestus, beare him hence vnto our ships,
Lest Dido spying him keepe him for a pledge.

Hermes. Spendst thou thy time about this little boy,
And giuest not care vnto the charge I bring?
I tell thee thou must straight to Italy,
Or els abide the wrath of frowning Ioue.

Æn. How should I put into the raging deepe,
Who haue no sailes nor tackling for my ships?
What would the Gods haue me Deucalion like,
Flote vp and downe where ere the billowes driue?
Though she repairde my fleete and gaue me ships,
Yet hath she tane away my oares and masts,
And left me neither saile nor sterne abourd.

Enter to them Iarbus.

Iar. How now Æneas, sad, what meanes these dumpes?

Æn. Iarbus, I am cleane besides my selfe,
Ioue hath heapt on me such a desperate charge,
Which neither art nor reason may atchieue,
Nor I deuise by what meanes to contriue.

Iar. As how I pray, may I entreat you tell.

Æn. With speede he bids me sail to Italy.
When as I want both rigging for my fleete,
And also furniture for these my men.

Iar. If that be all, then cheare thy drooping lookes,
For I will furnish thee with such supplies:
Let some of those thy followers goe with me,
And they shall haue what thing so ere thou needst.

Æn. 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 Æneas traine.

Now will I haste vnto Lauinian shoare,
And raise a new foundation to old Troy,
Witnes the Gods, and witnes heauen and earth,
How loth I am to leaue these Libian bounds,
But that eternall Iupiter commands.

Enter Dido and Æneas.

Dido. I feare I sawe Æneas little sonne,
Led by Achates to the Troian fleete:
If it be so, his father meanes to flye:
But here he is, now Dido trie thy wit.
Æneas, wherefore goe thy men abourd?,
Why are thy ships new rigd? or to what end
Launcht from the hauen, lye they in the Rhode?
Pardon me though I aske, loue makes me aske.

Æn. O pardon me, if I resolue thee why:
Æneas will not faine with his deare loue,
I must from hence: this day swift Mercury
When I was laying a platforme for these walles,
Sent from his father Ioue, appeard to me,
And in his name rebukt me bitterly,
For lingering here, neglecting Italy.

Dido. But yet Æneas will not leaue his loue.

Æn. I am commaunded by immortal Ioue,
To leaue this towne and passe to Italy,
And therefore must of force.

Dido. These words proceed not from Æneas heart.

Æn. Not from my heart, for I can hardly goe,
And yet I may not stay, Dido farewell.

Dido. Farewell: is this the mends for Didos loue?
Doe Troians vse to quit their Louers thus?
Fare well may Dido, so Æneas stay,
I dye, if my Æneas say farewell.

Æn. Then let me goe and neuer say farewell,
Let me goe, farewell, I must from hence.

Dido. These words are poyson to poore Didos soule,
O speake like my Æneas, like my loue:
Why look’st thou toward the sea? the time hath been
When Didos beautie chaungd thine eyes to her;
Am I lesse faire then when thou sawest me first?
O then Æneas, tis for griefe of thee:
Say thou wilt stay in Carthage with my Queene,
And Didos beautie will returne againe:
Æneas, say, how canst thou take thy leaue?
Wilt thou kisse Dido? O thy lips haue sworne
To stay with Dido: canst thou take her hand?
Thy Hand and mine haue plighted mutuall faith,
Therefore vnkinde Æneas, must thou say,
Then let me goe, and neuer say farewell.

Æn. O Queene of Carthage, wert thou vgly blacke,
Æneas could not choose but hold thee deare,
Yet must he not gainsay the Gods behest.

Dido. The Gods, what Gods be those that seeke my death?
Wherein haue I offended Iupiter,
That he should take Æneas from mine armes?
O no, the Gods wey not what Louers doe,
It is Æneas calles Æneas hence,
And wofull Dido by these blubbred cheekes,
By this right hand, and by our spousall rites,
Desires Æneas to remaine with her:
Si bene quid de te merui, fuit aut tibi quidquam
Dulce meum, miserere domus labentis: & istam
Oro, si quis ad hac precibus locus, exue mentem.

Æn. Desine meque tuis incendere teque querelis,
Italiam non sponte sequor.

Dido. Hast thou forgot how many neighbour kings
Were vp in armes, for making thee my loue?
How Carthage did rebell, Iarbus storme,
And all the world calles me a second Helen,
For being intangled by a strangers lookes:
So thou wouldst proue as true as Paris did,
Would, as faire Troy was, Carthage might be sackt,
And I be calde a second Helena.
Had I a sonne by thee, the griefe were lesse,
That I might see Æneas in his face:
Now if thou goest, what canst thou leaue behind,
But rather will augment then ease my woe?

Æn. In vaine my loue thou spendst thy fainting breath,
If words might moue me I were ouercome.

Dido. And wilt thou not be mou’d with Didos words?
Thy mother was no Goddesse periurd man,
Nor Dardanus the author of thy stocke:
But thou art Sprung from Scythian Caucasus,
And Tygers of Hircania gaue thee sucke:
Ah foolish Dido to forbeare this long!
Wast thou not wrackt vpon this Libian shoare,
And cam’st to Dido like a Fisherswaine?
Repairde not I thy ships, made thee a King,
And all thy needie followers Noblemen?
O Serpent that came creeping from the shoare,
And I for pitie harbord in my bosome,
Wilt thou now slay me with thy venomed sting,
And hisse at Dido for preseruing thee?
Goe goe and spare not, seeke out Italy,
I hope that that which loue forbids me doe,
The Rockes and Sea-gulfes will performe at large,
And thou shalt perish in the billowes waies,
To whom poore Dido doth bequeath reuenge,
I traytor, and the waues shall cast thee vp,
Where thou and false Achates first set foote:
Which if it chaunce, Ile giue ye buriall,
And weepe vpon your liueles carcases,
Though thou nor he will pitie me a whit.
Why star’st thou in my face? if thou wilt stay,
Leape in mine armes, mine armes are open wide:
If not, turne from me, and Ile turne from thee;
For though thou hast the heart to say farewell,
I haue not power to stay thee: is he gone?
I but heele come againe, he cannot goe,
He loues me to too well to serue me so:
Yet he that in my sight would not relent,
Will, being absent, be abdurate still.
By this is he got to the water side,
And, see the Sailers take him by the hand,
But he shrinkes backe, and now remembring me,
Returnes amaine: welcome, welcome my loue:
But wheres Æneas? ah hees gone hees gone!

Anna. What meanes my sister thus to raue and crye?

Dido. O Anna, my Æneas is abourd,
And leauing me will saile to Italy.
Once didst thou goe, and he came backe againe,
Now bring him backe, and thou shalt be a Queene,
And I will liue a priuate life with him.

Anna. Wicked Æneas.

Dido. Call him not wicked, sister speake him faire,
And looke vpon him with a Mermaides eye,
Tell him, I neuer vow’d at Aulis gulfe
The desolation of his natiue Troy,
Nor sent a thousand ships vnto the walles,
Nor euer violated faith to him:
Request him gently (Anna) to returne,
I craue but this, he stay a tide or two,
That I may learne to beare it patiently,
If he depart thus suddenly, I dye:
Run Anna, run, stay not to answere me.

Anna. I goe faire sister, heauens graunt good successe.

Exit Anna.

Enter the Nurse.

Nurse. O Dido, your little sonne Ascanius
Is gone! he lay with me last night,
And in the morning he was stolne from me,
I thinke some Fairies haue beguiled me.

Dido. O cursed hagge and false dissembling wretch!
That slayest me with thy harsh and hellish tale,
Thou for some pettie guift hast let him goe,
And I am thus deluded of my boy:
Away with her to prison presently,
Traytoresse too keend and cursed Sorceresse.

Nurse. I know not what you meane by treason, I,
I am as true as any one of yours. Exeunt the Nurse.

Dido. Away with her, suffer her not to speake.
My sister comes, I like not her sad lookes.

Enter Anna.

Anna. Before I came, Æneas was abourd,
And spying me, hoyst vp the sailes amaine:
But I cride out, Æneas, false Æneas stay.
Then gan he wagge his hand, which yet held vp,
Made me suppose he would haue heard me speake:
Then gan they driue into the Ocean,
Which when I viewd, I cride, Æneas stay,
Dido, faire Dido wils Æneas stay:
Yet he whose heart of adamant or flint,
My teares nor plaints could mollifie a whit:
Then carelesly I rent my haire for griefe,
Which seene to all, though he beheld me not,
They gan to moue him to redresse my ruth,
And stay a while to heare what I could say,
But he clapt vnder hatches saild away.

Dido. O Anna, Anna, I will follow him.

Anna. How can ye goe when he hath all your fleete?

Dido. Ile frame me wings of waxe like Icarus,
And ore his ships will soare vnto the Sunne,
That they may melt and I fall in his armes:
Or els Ile make a prayer vnto the waues,
That I may swim to him like Tritons neece:
O Anna, fetch Orions Harpe,
That I may tice a Dolphin to the shoare,
And ride vpon his backe vnto my loue:
Looke sister, looke louely Æneas ships,
See see, the billowes heaue him vp to heauen,
And now downe falles the keeles into the deepe:
O sister, sister, take away the Rockes,
Theile breake his ships, O Proteus, Neptune, Ioue,
Saue, saue Æneas, Didos leefest loue!
Now is he come on shoare safe without hurt:
But see, Achates wils him put to sea,
And all the Sailers merrie make for ioy,
But he remembring me shrinkes backe againe:
See where he comes, welcome, welcome my loue.

Anna. Ah sister, leaue these idle fantasies,
Sweet sister cease, remember who you are.

Dido. Dido I am, vnlesse I be deceiu’d,
And must I raue thus for a renegate?
Must I make ships for him to saile away?
Nothing can beare me to him but a ship,
And he hath all thy fleete, what shall I doe?
But dye in furie of this ouersight?
I, I must be the murderer of my selfe:
No but I am not, yet I will be straight.
Anna be glad, now haue I found a meane
To rid me from these thoughts of Lunacie:
Not farre from hence there is a woman famoused for arts,
Daughter vnto the Nimphs Hesperides,
Who wild me sacrifice his ticing relliques:
Goe Anna, bid my seruants bring me fire. Exit Anna.

Enter Iarbus.

Iar. How long will Dido mourne a strangers flight,
That hath dishonord her and Carthage both?
How long shall I with griefe consume my daies,
And reape no guerdon for my truest loue?

Dido. Iarbus, talk not of Æneas, let him goe,
Lay to thy hands and helpe me make a fire,
That shall consume all that this stranger left,
For I entend a priuate Sacrifize,
To cure my minde that melts for vnkind loue.

Iar. But afterwards will Dido graunt me loue?

Dido. I, I, Iarbus, after this is done,
None in the world shall have my loue but thou:
So, leaue me now, let none approach this place. Exit Iarbus.
Now Dido, with these reliques burne thy selfe,
And make Æneas famous through the world,
For periurie and slaughter of a Queene:
Here lye the Sword that in the darksome Caue
He drew, and swore by to be true to me,
Thou shalt burne first, thy crime is worse then his:
Here lye the garment which I cloath’d him in,
When first he came on shoare, perish thou to:
These letters, lines, and periurd papers all,
Shall burne to cinders in this prectious flame.
And now ye Gods that guide the starrie frame,
And order all things at your high dispose;
Graunt, though the traytors land in Italy,
They may be still tormented with vnrest,
And from mine ashes let a Conquerour rise,
That may reuenge this treason to a Queene,
By plowing vp his Countries with the Sword:
Betwixt this land and that be neuer league,
Littora littoribus contraria, fluctibus undas
Impresor: arma armis: pugnent ipsig nepotes
:
Liue false Æneas, truest Dido dyes,
Sic sic inuat ire sub umbras.

Enter Anna.

Anna. O helpe Iarbus, Dido in these flames
Hath burnt her selfe, aye me, vnhappie me!

Enter Iarbus running.

Iar. Cursed Iarbus, dye to expiate
The griefe that tires vpon thine inward soule,
Dido I come to thee, aye me Æneas.

Anna. What can my teares or cryes preuaile me now?
Dido is dead, Iarbus slaine, Iarbus my deare loue,
O sweet Iarbus, Annas sole delight,
What fatall destinie enuies me thus,
To see my sweet Iarbus slay himselfe?
But Anna now shall honor thee in death,
And mixe her bloud with thine, this shall I doe,
That Gods and men may pitie this my death,
And rue our ends senceles of life or breath;
Now sweet Iarbus stay, I come to thee.

FINIS.

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Last updated Friday, March 7, 2014 at 23:10