AENEAS

You sons of care, companions of my course, Priam's misfortune follows us by sea, And Helens rape does haunt thee at the heals. How many dangers have we over passed? Both barking Scylla and the sounding Rocks, The Cyclops shelves, and grim Ceranias seat Have you overwent, and yet remain alive? Pluck up your hearts, since fate still rests our friend, And changing heavens may those good days return, Which Pergama did vaunt in all her pride. Alas sweet boy, thou must be still a while, Till we have fire to dress the meat we killed: Gentle Achate's, reach the Tinder box, That we may make a fire to warm us with, And rost our new found victuals on this shore. Hold, take this candle and go light a fire, You shall have leaves and wind all bows enough Near to these woods, to rost your meat withal: Ascanius, go and dry thy drenched limbs, While I with my Achate's roaue abroad, To know what coast the wind hath driven us on, Or whither men or beasts inhabit it. I neither saw nor herd of any such: But what may I fair Virgin call your name? Whose looks set forth no mortal form to view, Nor speech bewrays ought human in thy birth, Thou art a Goddess that deludst our eyes, And shrowds thy beauty in this borrowed shape: But whither thou the Suns bright Sister be, Or one of chased Diana's fellow Nymph's, Live happy in the height of all content, And lighten our extremes with this one boon, As to instruct us under what good heaven We breathe as now, and what this world is called, On which by tempests fury we are cast, Tell us, Oh tell us that are ignorant, And this right hand shall make thy Altars crack With mountain heaps of milk white Sacrifice. Of Troy am I, Aeneas is my name, Who driven by war from forth my native world, Put sails to sea to seek out Italy: And my divine descent from sceptred Jove, With twice twelve Phrigian ships I plowed the deep, And made that way my mother Venus led: But of them all scarce seven do anchor safe, And they so wracked and weltered by the waves, As every tide tilts betwixt their oaken sides: And all of them unburdened of their load, Are ballassed with billows watery weight. But hapless I, God wot, poor and unknown, Do trace these Libian deserts all despised, Exiled forth Europe and wide Asia both, And have not any coverture but heaven. Achate's, 'tis my mother that is fled, I know her by the movings of her feet: Stay gentle Venus, fly not from thy son, Too cruel, why wilt thou forsake me thus? Or in these shades deceivest mine eye so oft? Why talk we not together hand in hand? And tell our griefs in more familiar terms: But thou art gone and leavest me here alone, To dull the air with my discursive moan. Exit Where am I now? these should be Carthage walls. Oh my Achate's, Theban Niobe, Who for her sons death wept out life and breath, And dry with grief was turned into a stone, Had not such passion in her head as I. Me thinks that town there should be Troy, yond Ida's hill, There Zanthus stream, because here's Priamus, And when I know it is not, then I die. Oh yet this stone does make Aeneas weep, And would my prayers (as Pygmalions did) Could give it life, that under his conduct We might sail back to Troy, and be revenged On these hard hearted Grecians, which rejoice That nothing now is left of Priamus: Oh Priamus is left and this is he, Come, come aboard, pursue the hateful Greeks. Achate's though mine eyes say this is stone, Yet thinks my mind that this is Priamus: And when my grieved heart sighs and says no, Then would it leap out to give Priam life: Oh were I not at all so thou mightest be. Achate's, see King Priam wags his hand, He is alive, Troy is not overcome. Ah Troy is sacked, and Priamus is dead, And why should poor Aeneas be alive? Lords of this town, or whatsoever style Belongs unto your name, vouchsafe of ruth To tell us who inhabits this fair town, What kind of people, and who governs them: For we are strangers driven on this shore, And scarcely know within what Climb we are. Achate's, speak, for I am overjoyed. Sergestus, Illioneus and the rest, Your sighed amazed me, Oh what destinies Have brought my sweet companions in such plighted? Oh tell me, for I long to be resolved. Well may I view her, but she sees not me. Sometime I was a Trojan mighty Queen: But Troy is not, what shall I say I am? This is no seat for one thats comfortless, May it please your grace to let Aeneas wait: For though my birth be great, my Fortune's mean, Too mean to be companion to a Queen. This place beseems me not, Oh pardon me. In all humility I thank your grace. And who so miserable as Aeneas is? Oh Priamus, Oh Troy, O Hecuba! A woeful tale bids Dido to unfold, Whose memory Like pale death's stony mace, Beats forth my senses from this troubled soul, And makes Aeneas sink at Didos feet. Then speak Aeneas with Achilles tongue, And Dido and you Carthaginian Peers Hear me, but yet with Mirmido S harsh ears, Daily inured to broils and Massacres, Lest you be moved too much with my sad tale. The Grecian soldiers tired with ten years war, Began to cry, let us unto our ships, Troy is invincible, why stay we here? With whose outcries Atrides being appalled, Summoned the Captains to his princely tent, Who looking on the scars we Trojans gave, Seeing the number of their men decreast, And the remainder weak and out of heart, Gave up their voices to dislodge the Camp, And so in troops all marched to Tonedos: Where when they came, Ulysses on the sand Assayed with honey words to turn them back: And as he spoke to further his intent, The winds did driven huge billows to the shore, And heaven was darkened with tempestuous clouds: Then he alleged the Gods would have them stay, And prophesied Troy should be overcome: And therewithal he called false Sinon forth, A man compact of craft and perjury, Whose ticing tongue was made of Hermos pipe, To force and hundred watchful eyes to sleep: And him Epeus having made the horse, With sacrificing wreathes upon his head, Ulysses sent to our unhappy town: Who groveling in the mire of Zanthus banks, His hands bound at his back, and both his eyes Turned up to heaven as one resolved to die, Our Phrigian shepherd haled within the gates, And brought unto the Court of Priamus: To whom he used Actium so pitiful, Looks so remorseful, vows so forcible, As there withal the old man overcome, Kissed him, embraced him, and unloosed his bans, And then, Oh Dido, pardon me. Oh enchanting words of that base slave, Made him to think Epe S pinetree Horse A sacrifice t'appease Minervas wrath: The rather for that one Laoc on Breaking a spear upon his hollow breast, Was with two winged Serpents stung to death. Whereat aghast, we were commanded straight With reverence to draw it into Troy. In which unhappy work was I employed, These hands did help to hale it to the gates, Through which it could not enter it so huge. Oh had it never entered, Troy had stood. But Priamus impatient of delay, Enforced a wide breach in that rampierd wall, Which thousand battering Rams could never pierce, And so came in this fatal instrument: At whose accursed feet as overjoyed, We banqueted till overcome with wine, Some surfeited and others soundly slept. Which Sinon viewing, caused the Greekish spies To hast to Tenedos and tell the Camp: Then he unlocked the Horse, and suddenly From out his entrails, Neoptolemus Setting his spear upon the ground, leapt forth, And after him a thousand Grecians more, In whose stern faces shined the quenchless fire, That after burned the pride of Asia. By this the Camp was come unto the walls, And through the breach did march into the streets, Where meeting with the rest, kill kill they cried. Frighted with this confused noise, I rose, And looking from a turret, might behold Young infants swimming in their parents blood, Headless carcases piled up in heaps, Virgins half dead dragged by their golden hair, And with main force flung on a ring of pikes, Old men with swords thrust through their aged sides, Kneeling for mercy to a Greekish lad, Who with steel Pole-axes dashed out their brains. Then buckled I mine armour, drew my sword, And thinking to go down, came Hector's ghost With ashy visage, blewish sulphur eyes, His arms torn from his shoulders, and his breast Furrowd with wounds, and that which made me weep, Thongs at his heals, by which Achilles horse Drew him in triumph through the Greekish Camp, Burst from the earth, crying, Aeneas fly, Troy is a fire, the Grecians have the town, Yet flung I forth, and desperate of my life, Ran in the thickest throngs, and with this sword Sent many of their savage ghosts to hell. At last came Pyrrhus fell and full of ire, His harness dropping blood, and on his spear The mangled head of Priam's youngest son, And after him his band of Mirmidons, With balls of wild fire in their murdering paws, Which made the funeral flame that burned fair Troy: All which hemmed me about, crying, this is he. My mother Venus jealous of my health, Conveyed me from their crooked nets and bans: So I escaped the furious Pyrrhus wrath: Who then ran to the palace of the King, And at Jove's Altar finding Priamus, About whose withered neck hung Hecuba, Foulding his hand in hers, and jointly both Beating their breasts and falling on the ground, He with his saulchions point raised up at once, And with Megaera's eyes stared in their face, Threatening a thousand death's at every glance. To whom the aged King thus trembling spoke: Achilles son, remember what I was, Father of fifty sons, but they are slain, Lord of my fortune, but my Fortune's turned, King of this City, but my Troy is fired, And now am neither father, Lord, nor King: Yet who so wretched but desires to live? Oh let me live, great Neoptolemus, Not moved at all, but smiling at his tears, This butcher whilst his hands were yet held up, Treading upon his breast, struck off his hands. At which the frantic Queen leapt on his face, And in his eyelids hanging by the nails, A little while prolonged her husbands life: At last the soldiers pulled her by the heals, And swong her howling in the empty air, Which sent and echo to the wounded King: Whereat he lifted up his bedrid limbs, And would have grappeld with Achilles son, Forgetting both his want of strength and hands, Which he disdaining whiskt his sword about, And with the wound thereof the King fell down: Then from the navel to the throat at once, He ripped old Priam: at whose latter gasp Jove's marble statue gan to bend the brow, As loathing Pyrrhus for this wicked act: Yet he undaunted took his father's flag, And dipped it in the old Kings chill cold blood, And then in triumph ran into the streets, Through which he could not pass for slaughtered men: So leaning on his sword he stood stone still, Viewing the fire wherewith rich Ilion burned. By this I God my father on my back, This young boy in mine arms, and by the hand Led fair Creusa my beloved wife, When thou Achate's with thy sword madest way, And we were round environed with the Greeks: Oh there I lost my wife: and had not we Fought manfully, I had not told this tale: Yet manhood would not serve, of force we fled, And as we went unto our ships, thou knowest We saw Cassandra sprawling in the streets, Whom Ajax ravished in Diana's Fawn, Her cheeks swollen with sighs, her hair all rend, Whom I took up to bear unto our ships: But suddenly the Grecians followed us, And I alas, was forced to let her lie. Then God we to our ships, and being aboard, Polyxena cried out, Aeneas stay, The Greeks pursue me, stay and take me in. Moved with her voice, I leapt into the sea, Thinking to bear her on my back aboard: For all our ships were launched into the deep, And as I swom, she standing on the shore, Was by the cruel Mirmidons surprised, And after by that Pyrrhus sacrifizde. Achate's speak, sorrow hath tired me quite. I understand your highness sent for me. So much have I received at Didos hands, As without blushing I can ask no more: Yet Queen of Africa are my ships vnrigd, My Sails all rend in sunder with the wind, My Oars broken, and my Tackling lost, Yea all my Navic split with Rocks and Shelves: Nor Stern nor Anchor have our maimed Fleet, Our Masts the furious winds struck over board: Which piteous wants if Dido will supply, We will account her author of our lives. Wherefore would Dido have Aeneas stay? I this in Greece when Paris stole fair Helen. No Madame, but it seems that these are Kings. Oh happy shall he be whom Dido loves. But love and duty led him on perhaps, To press beyond acceptance to your sighed. And might I live to see him sack rich Thebes, And load his spear with Grecian Princes heads, Then would I wish me with Anchises Tomb, And dead to honour that hath brought me up. Stout friend Achate's, dost thou know this wood? Oh how these icksome labours now delight, And ouerioy my thoughts with their escape: Who would not undergo all kind of toil, To be well stored with such a winter's tale? Dido. By chance sweet Queen, as Mars and Venus met. Why, what is it that Dido may desire And not obtain, be it in human power? It is not ought Aeneas may achieve? What, hath Jarbus angered her in ought? And will she be avenged on his life? Who then of all so cruel may he be, That should detain thy eye in his defects? What ails my Queen, is she fallen sick of late? What means fair Dido by this doubtful speech? Aeneas thoughts dare not ascend so high As Didos heart, which Monarchs might not scale. If that your majesty can look so low , As my despised 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 saved me from the Greeks, Never to leave these new upreared walls, While Dido lives and rules in Ju S town, Never to Like or love any but her. The air is clear, and Southern winds are whist, Come Dido, let us hasten to the town, Since gloomy Aeolus does cease to frown. Fair Anna, how escaped you from the shower? Carthage, my friendly host adue, Since destiny does call me from the shore: Hermes this night descending in a dream, Hath summoned me to fruitful Italy: Jove wills it so, my mother wills it so: Let my Phenissa grant, and then I go: Grant she or no, Aeneas must away, Whose golden Fortune's clogged with courtly ease, Cannot ascend to Fame's immortal house, Or banquet in bright honours burnished hall, Till he hath furrowed Neptune's glassy fields, And cut a passage through his topless hills: Achate's come forth, Sergestus, Illioneus, Cloanthus, haste away, Aeneas calls. The dreams (brave mates) that did beset my bed, When sleep but newly had embraced the night, Commands me leave these unrenowned beams, Whereas Nobility abhors to stay, And none but base Aeneas will abide: Aboard, aboard, since Fates do bid aboard, And slice the Sea with sable coloured ships, On whom the nimble winds may all day weight, And follow them as footmen through the deep: Yet Dido casts her eyes Like anchors out, To stay my Fleet from losing forth the Bay Come back, come back, I hear her cry a far, And let me link my body to my lips, That tied together by the striving tongues, We may as one sail into Italy. Trojans aboard, and I will follow you, I feign would go, yet beauty calls me back: To leave her so and not once say farewell, Were to transgress against all laws of love: But if I use such ceremonious thanks, As parting friends accustom on the shore, Her silver arms will coll me round about, And tears of pearl, cry stay, Aeneas, stay: Each word she says will then contain a Crown, And every speech be ended with a kiss: I may not dure this female drudgery, To sea Aeneas, find out Italy. Exit. Oh princely Dido, give me leave to speak, I went to take my farewell of Achate's. The sea is rough, the winds blow to the shore. Hath not the Carthage Queen mine only son? Thinks Dido I will go and leave him here? This kiss shall be fair Didos punishment. How vain am I to wear this Diadem, And bear this golden Sceptre in my hand? A Burgonet of steel, and not a Crown, A Sword, and not a Sceptre fits Aeneas. Oh Dido, patroness of all our lives, When I leave thee, death be my punishment, Swell raging seas, frown wayward destinies, Blow winds, threaten you Rocks and sandy shelves, This is the harbour that Aeneas seeks, Lets see what tempests can annoy me now. I, and unless the destinies be false, I shall be planted in as rich a land. Then here in me shall flourish Priam's raze, And thou and I Achate's, for revenge, For Troy, for Priam, for his fifty sons, Our kinsmen's loves, and thousand guiltless souls, Will lead and host against the hateful Greeks, And fire proud Lacedemon over their heads. Exit. Triumph my mates, our travels are at end. Here will Aeneas built a statelier Troy, Then that which grim Atrides overthrew: Carthage shall vaunt her petty walls no more, For I will grace them with a fairer frame, And clad her in a Crystal livery, Wherein the day may evermore delight: From golden India Ganges will I fetch, Whose wealthy streams may wait upon her towers, And triple wise entrench her round about: The Sun from Egypt shall rich odours bring, Where with his burning beams Like labouring Bees, That load their thighs with Hybla's honeys spoils, Shall here unburden their exhaled sweets, And plant our pleasant suburbs with her fumes. Not passed four thousand paces at the most. That have I not determinde with my self. Nay, I will have it called Anchis on, Of my old father's name. Whom do I see, Jove's winged messenger? Welcome to Carthage new erected town. This was my mother that be guild the Queen, And made me take my brother for my son: No marvel Dido though thou be in love, That daily danlest Cupid in thy arms: Welcome sweet child, where hast thou been this long? Sergestus, bear him hence unto our ships, Lest Dido spying him keep him for a pledge. How should I put into the raging deep, Who have no sails nor tackling for my ships? What would the Gods have me Deucalion Like, Float up and down where ere the billows driven? Though she repairde my fleet and gave me ships, Yet hath she taken away my oars and masts, And left me neither sail nor stern aboard. Jarbus, I am clean beside my self, Jove hath heaped on me such a desperate charge, Which neither art nor reason may achieve, Nor I devise by what means to contrive. With speed he bids me sail to Italy, When as I want both rigging for my fleet, And also furniture for these my men. Thanks good Jarbus for thy friendly aid, Achate's and the rest shall wait on thee, Whilst I rest thankful for this courtesy. Now will I haste unto Lavinjan shore, And raise a new foundation to old Troy, Witness the Gods, and witness heaven and earth, How loath I am to leave these Libian bounds, But that eternal Jupiter commands. Oh pardon me, if I resolve thee why: Aeneas will not feign with his deer love, I must from hence: this day swift Mercury When I was laying a platform for these walls, Sent from his father Jove, appeared to me, And in his name rebuked me bitterly, For lingering here, neglecting Italy. I am commanded by immortal Jove, To leave this town and pass to Italy, And therefore must of force. Not from my heart, for I can hardly go, And yet I may not stay, Dido farewell. Then let me go and never say farewell, Let me go, farewell, I must from hence. Oh Queen of Carthage, Wertenberg thou ugly black, Aeneas could not choose but hold thee deer, Yet must he not gainsay the Gods behest. Desine meque tuis incendere teque querelis, Italiam non sponte sequor. In vain my love thou spendest thy fainting breath, If words might move me I were overcome.