Dido, Queen of Carthage - Act One
SCENE ONE
Here the curtains draw; there is discovered JUPITER dandling GANYMEDE upon his knee, and MERCURY lying asleep . JUPITER :
Come, gentle Ganymede, and play with me.
I love thee well, say Juno what she will. GANYMEDE :
I am much better for your worthless love,
That will not shield me from her shrewish blows!
Today, whenas I fill'd into your cups,
And held the cloth of pleasance whiles you drank,
She reach'd me such a rap for that I spill'd,
As made the blood run down about mine ears. JUPITER :
What, dares she strike the darling of my thoughts?
By Saturn's soul, and this earth-threatening hair,
That, shaken thrice, makes nature's buildings quake,
I vow, if she but once frown on thee more,
To hang her, meteor like, 'twixt heaven and earth,
And bind her, hand and foot, with golden cords,
As once I did for harming Hercules! GANYMEDE :
Might I but see that pretty sport a-foot,
O, how would I with Helen's brother laugh,
And bring the gods to wonder at the game!
Sweet Jupiter, if e'er I pleas'd thine eye,
Or seemed fair, wall'd-in with eagle's wings,
Grace my immortal beauty with this boon,
And I will spend my time in thy bright arms. JUPITER :
What is't, sweet wag, I should deny thy youth?
Whose face reflects such pleasure to mine eyes,
As I, exhal'd with thy fire-darting beams,
Have oft driven back the horses of the Night,
Whenas they would have hal'd thee from my sight.
Sit on my knee, and call for thy content,
Control proud Fate, and cut the thread of Time.
Why, are not all the gods at thy command,
And heaven and earth the bounds of thy delight?
Vulcan shall dance to make thee laughing sport,
And my nine daughters sing when thou art sad;
From Juno's bird I'll pluck her spotted pride,
To make thee fans wherewith to cool thy face;
And Venus' swans shall shed their silver down,
To sweeten out the slumbers of thy bed;
Hermes no more shall show the world his wings,
If that thy fancy in his feathers dwell,
But, as this one, I'll tear them all from him,
Plucks a feather from HERMES ' wings .
Do thou but say, 'their colour pleaseth me'.
Hold here, my little love; these linked gems
Gives jewels .
My Juno ware upon her marriage-day,
Put thou about thy neck, my own sweet heart,
And trick thy arms and shoulders with my theft. GANYMEDE :
I would have a jewel for mine ear,
And a fine brooch to put in my hat,
And then I'll hug with you an hundred times. JUPITER :
And shall have, Ganymede, if thou wilt be my love.
Enter VENUS . VENUS :
Ay, 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 prey to every billow's pride.
Juno, false Juno, in her chariot's pomp,
Drawn through the heavens by steeds of Boreas' brood,
Made Hebe to direct her airy wheels
Into the windy country of the clouds;
Where, finding Æolus entrench'd with storms,
And guarded with a thousand grisly ghosts,
She humbly did beseech him for our bane,
And charg'd him drown my son with all his train.
Then gan the winds break ope their brazen doors,
And all Æolia to be up in arms.
Poor Troy must now be sack'd upon the sea,
And Neptune's waves be envious men of war;
Epeus' horse, to Ætna's hill transform'd,
Prepared stands to wrack their wooden walls;
And Æolus, like Agamemnon, sounds
The surges, his fierce soldiers, to the spoil.
See how the night, Ulysses-like, comes forth,
And intercepts the day, as Dolon erst!
Ay, me! the stars suppris'd, like Rhesus' steeds,
Are drawn by darkness forth Astraeus' tents.
What shall I do to save thee, my sweet boy?
Whenas the waves do threat our crystal world,
And Proteus, raising hills of floods on high,
Intends, ere long, to sport him in the sky.
False Jupiter, reward'st thou virtue so?
What, is not piety exempt from woe?
Then die, Æneas, in thine innocence,
Since that religion hath no recompense. JUPITER :
Content thee, Cytherea, in thy care,
Since thy Æneas' wandering fate is firm,
Whose weary limbs shall shortly make repose
In those fair walls I promis'd him of yore.
But, first, in blood must his good fortune bud,
Before he be the lord of Turnus' town,
Or force her smile that hitherto hath frown'd.
Three winters shall he with the Rutiles war,
And, in the end, subdue them with his sword;
And full three summers likewise shall he waste
In managing those fierce barbarian minds;
Which once perform'd, poor Troy, so long suppress'd.
From forth her ashes shall advance her head,
And flourish once again, that erst was dead.
But bright Ascanius, beauty's better work,
Who with the sun divides one radiant shape,
Shall build his throne amidst those starry towers
That earth-born Atlas, groaning, underprops:
No bounds but heaven shall bound his empery,
Whose azur'd gates enchased with his name,
Shall make the morning haste her grey uprise,
To feed her eyes with his engraven fame.
Thus, in stout Hector's race, three hundred years
The Roman sceptre royal shall remain,
Till that a princess-priest conceiv'd by Mars,
Shall yield to dignity a double birth,
Who will eternish Troy in their attempts. VENUS :
How may I credit these thy flattering terms,
When yet both sea and sands beset their ships,
And Phoebus, as in Stygian pools, refrains
To taint his tresses in the Tyrrhene main? JUPITER :
I will take order for that presently.
Hermes, awake! and haste to Neptune's realm,
Whereas the Wind-god, warring now with fate,
Beseige[s] th' offspring of our kingly loins.
Charge him from me to turn his stormy powers,
And fetter them in Vulcan's sturdy brass,
That durst thus proudly wrong our kinsman's peace.
Exit HERMES .
Venus, farewell; thy son shall be our care.
Come, Ganymede, we must about this gear.
Exeunt JUPITER and GANYMEDE . VENUS :
Disquiet seas, lay down your swelling looks,
And court Æneas with your calmy cheer,
Whose beauteous burden well might make you proud,
Had not the heavens, conceiv'd with hell-born clouds,
Veil'd his resplendent glory from your view.
For my sake, pity him, Oceanus,
That erstwhile issu'd from thy watery loins,
And had my being from thy bubbling froth.
Triton, I know, hath fill'd his trump with Troy,
And therefore will take pity on his toil,
And call both Thetis and Cymothoe
To succour him in this extremity.
Enter ÆNEAS , ASCANIUS , ACHATES , and others .
What, do I see my son now come on shore?
Venus, how art thou compass'd with content,
The while thine eyes attract their sought-for joys!
Great Jupiter, still honour'd may'st thou be
For this so friendly aid in time of need!
Here in this bush disguised will I stand,
Whiles my Æneas spends himself in plaints,
And heaven and earth with his unrest acquaints. ÆNEAS :
You sons of care, companions of my course,
Priam's misfortune follows us by sea,
And Helen's rape doth haunt ye at the heels.
How many dangers have we overpass'd!
Both barking Scylla, and the sounding rocks,
The Cyclops' shelves, and grim Cerania's seat
Have you o'ergone, 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. ACHATES :
Brave prince of Troy, thou only art our god,
That by thy virtues free'st us from annoy,
And mak'st our hopes survive to coming joys.
Do thou but smile, and cloudy heaven will clear,
Whose night and day descendeth from thy brows.
Though we be now in extreme misery,
And rest the map of weather-beaten woe,
Yet shall the aged sun shed forth his hair,
To make us live unto our former heat,
And every beast the forest doth send forth
Bequeath her young ones to our scanted food. ASCANIUS :
Father, I faint; good father, give me meat. ÆNEAS :
Alas, sweet boy, thou must be still a while,
Till we have fire to dress the meat we kill'd!
Gentle Achates, reach the tinder box,
That we may make a fire to warm us with,
And roast our new-found victuals on this shore. VENUS ( aside ):
See, what strange arts necessity finds out!
How near, my sweet Æneas, art thou driven! ÆNEAS :
Hold, take this candle, and go light a fire;
You shall have leaves and windfall boughs enow,
Near to these woods, to roast you meat withal.
Ascanius, go and dry thy drenched limbs,
Whiles I with my Achates rove abroad,
To know what coast the wind hath driven us on,
Or whether men or beasts inhabit it.
Exeunt ASCANIUS and others . ACHATES :
The air is pleasant, and the soil most fit
For cities and society's supports;
Yet much I marvel that I cannot find
No steps of men imprinted in the earth. VENUS ( aside ):
Now is the time for me to play my part. –
Ho, young men! Saw you, as you came,
Any of all my sisters wandering here,
Having a quiver girded to her side,
And clothed in a spotted leopard's skin? ÆNEAS :
I neither saw nor heard of any such.
But what may I, fair virgin, call your name,
Whose looks set forth no mortal form to view,
Nor speech bewrays aught human in thy birth?
Thou art a goddess that delud'st our eyes,
And shroud'st thy beauty in this borrow'd shape;
But whether thou the Sun's bright sister be,
Or one of chaste Diana's fellow nymphs,
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 call'd
On which by tempests' fury we are cast.
Tell us, O, tell us, that are ignorant!
And this right hand shall make thy altars crack
With mountain-heaps of milk-white sacrifice. VENUS :
Such honour, stranger, do I not affect.
It is the use for Turen maids to wear
Their bow and quiver in this modest sort,
And suit themselves in purple for the nonce,
That they may trip more lightly o'er the lawnds,
And overtake the tusked boar in chase.
But for the land whereof thou dost inquire,
It is the Punic kingdom, rich and strong,
Adjoining on Agenor's stately town,
The kingly seat of Southern Libya,
Whereas Sidonian Dido rules as queen.
But what are you that ask of me these things?
Whence may you come, or whither will you go? ÆNEAS :
Of Troy am I. Æneas 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 Phrygian ships I plough'd the deep,
And made that way my mother Venus led;
But of them all scarce seven do anchor safe,
And they so wrack'd and welter'd by the waves,
As every tide tilts 'twixt their oaken sides,
And all of them, unburden'd of their load,
Are ballassed with billows' watery weight.
But hapless I, God wot, poor and unknown,
Do trace these Libyan deserts, all despis'd,
Exil'd forth Europe and wide Asia both,
And have not any coverture but heaven. VENUS :
Fortune hath favour'd thee, whate'er thou be,
In sending thee unto this courteous coast.
A' God's name, on! and haste thee to the court,
Where Dido will receive ye with her smiles.
And for thy ships, which thou supposest lost,
Not one of them hath perish'd in the storm,
But are arrived safe, not far from hence.
And so I leave thee to thy fortune's lot,
Wishing good luck unto thy wandering steps.
Exit. ÆNEAS :
Achates, '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 deceiv'st 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 leav'st me here alone
To dull the air with my discoursive moan.
Exeunt.
SCENE TWO
Enter IARBAS , followed by ILIONEUS , CLOANTHUS , SERGESTUS , and others . ILIONEUS :
Follow, ye Trojans, follow this brave lord,
And plain to him the sum of your distress. IARBAS :
Why, what are you, or wherefore do you sue? ILIONEUS :
Wretches of Troy, envied of the winds,
That crave such favour at your honour's feet,
As poor distressed misery may plead:
Save, save, O, save our ships from cruel fire,
That do complain the wounds of thousand waves,
And spare our lives, whom every spite pursues!
We come not, we, to wrong your Libyan gods,
Or steal your household Lares from their shrines.
Our hands are not prepar'd to lawless spoil,
Nor armed to offend in any kind;
Such force is far from our unweapon'd thoughts,
Whose fading weal, of victory forsook,
Forbids all hope to harbour near our hearts. IARBAS :
But tell me, Trojans, Trojans if you be,
Unto what fruitful quarters were ye bound,
Before that Boreas buckled with your sails? CLOANTHUS :
There is a place, Hesperia term'd by us,
An ancient empire, famoused for arms,
And fertile in fair Ceres' furrow'd wealth,
Which now we call Italia, of his name
That in such peace long time did rule the same.
Thither made we;
When, suddenly, gloomy Orion rose,
And led our ships into the shallow sands,
Whereas the southern wind with brackish breath,
Dispers'd them all amongst the wrackful rocks.
From thence a few of us escap'd to land;
The rest, we fear, are folded in the floods. IARBAS :
Brave men-at-arms, abandon fruitless fears,
Since Carthage knows to entertain distress. SERGESTUS :
Ay, but the barbrous sort do threat our ships,
And will not let us lodge upon the sands;
In multitudes they swarm unto the shore,
And from the first earth interdict our feet. IARBAS :
Myself will see they shall not trouble ye:
Your men and you shall banquet in our court,
And every Trojan be as welcome here
As Jupiter to silly Baucis' house.
Come in with me; I'll bring you to my queen,
Who shall confirm my words with further deeds. SERGESTUS :
Thanks, gentle lord, for such unlook'd-for grace:
Might we but once more see Æneas' face,
Then would we hope to quite such friendly turns,
As shall surpass the wonder of our speech.
Exeunt .
Here the curtains draw; there is discovered JUPITER dandling GANYMEDE upon his knee, and MERCURY lying asleep . JUPITER :
Come, gentle Ganymede, and play with me.
I love thee well, say Juno what she will. GANYMEDE :
I am much better for your worthless love,
That will not shield me from her shrewish blows!
Today, whenas I fill'd into your cups,
And held the cloth of pleasance whiles you drank,
She reach'd me such a rap for that I spill'd,
As made the blood run down about mine ears. JUPITER :
What, dares she strike the darling of my thoughts?
By Saturn's soul, and this earth-threatening hair,
That, shaken thrice, makes nature's buildings quake,
I vow, if she but once frown on thee more,
To hang her, meteor like, 'twixt heaven and earth,
And bind her, hand and foot, with golden cords,
As once I did for harming Hercules! GANYMEDE :
Might I but see that pretty sport a-foot,
O, how would I with Helen's brother laugh,
And bring the gods to wonder at the game!
Sweet Jupiter, if e'er I pleas'd thine eye,
Or seemed fair, wall'd-in with eagle's wings,
Grace my immortal beauty with this boon,
And I will spend my time in thy bright arms. JUPITER :
What is't, sweet wag, I should deny thy youth?
Whose face reflects such pleasure to mine eyes,
As I, exhal'd with thy fire-darting beams,
Have oft driven back the horses of the Night,
Whenas they would have hal'd thee from my sight.
Sit on my knee, and call for thy content,
Control proud Fate, and cut the thread of Time.
Why, are not all the gods at thy command,
And heaven and earth the bounds of thy delight?
Vulcan shall dance to make thee laughing sport,
And my nine daughters sing when thou art sad;
From Juno's bird I'll pluck her spotted pride,
To make thee fans wherewith to cool thy face;
And Venus' swans shall shed their silver down,
To sweeten out the slumbers of thy bed;
Hermes no more shall show the world his wings,
If that thy fancy in his feathers dwell,
But, as this one, I'll tear them all from him,
Plucks a feather from HERMES ' wings .
Do thou but say, 'their colour pleaseth me'.
Hold here, my little love; these linked gems
Gives jewels .
My Juno ware upon her marriage-day,
Put thou about thy neck, my own sweet heart,
And trick thy arms and shoulders with my theft. GANYMEDE :
I would have a jewel for mine ear,
And a fine brooch to put in my hat,
And then I'll hug with you an hundred times. JUPITER :
And shall have, Ganymede, if thou wilt be my love.
Enter VENUS . VENUS :
Ay, 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 prey to every billow's pride.
Juno, false Juno, in her chariot's pomp,
Drawn through the heavens by steeds of Boreas' brood,
Made Hebe to direct her airy wheels
Into the windy country of the clouds;
Where, finding Æolus entrench'd with storms,
And guarded with a thousand grisly ghosts,
She humbly did beseech him for our bane,
And charg'd him drown my son with all his train.
Then gan the winds break ope their brazen doors,
And all Æolia to be up in arms.
Poor Troy must now be sack'd upon the sea,
And Neptune's waves be envious men of war;
Epeus' horse, to Ætna's hill transform'd,
Prepared stands to wrack their wooden walls;
And Æolus, like Agamemnon, sounds
The surges, his fierce soldiers, to the spoil.
See how the night, Ulysses-like, comes forth,
And intercepts the day, as Dolon erst!
Ay, me! the stars suppris'd, like Rhesus' steeds,
Are drawn by darkness forth Astraeus' tents.
What shall I do to save thee, my sweet boy?
Whenas the waves do threat our crystal world,
And Proteus, raising hills of floods on high,
Intends, ere long, to sport him in the sky.
False Jupiter, reward'st thou virtue so?
What, is not piety exempt from woe?
Then die, Æneas, in thine innocence,
Since that religion hath no recompense. JUPITER :
Content thee, Cytherea, in thy care,
Since thy Æneas' wandering fate is firm,
Whose weary limbs shall shortly make repose
In those fair walls I promis'd him of yore.
But, first, in blood must his good fortune bud,
Before he be the lord of Turnus' town,
Or force her smile that hitherto hath frown'd.
Three winters shall he with the Rutiles war,
And, in the end, subdue them with his sword;
And full three summers likewise shall he waste
In managing those fierce barbarian minds;
Which once perform'd, poor Troy, so long suppress'd.
From forth her ashes shall advance her head,
And flourish once again, that erst was dead.
But bright Ascanius, beauty's better work,
Who with the sun divides one radiant shape,
Shall build his throne amidst those starry towers
That earth-born Atlas, groaning, underprops:
No bounds but heaven shall bound his empery,
Whose azur'd gates enchased with his name,
Shall make the morning haste her grey uprise,
To feed her eyes with his engraven fame.
Thus, in stout Hector's race, three hundred years
The Roman sceptre royal shall remain,
Till that a princess-priest conceiv'd by Mars,
Shall yield to dignity a double birth,
Who will eternish Troy in their attempts. VENUS :
How may I credit these thy flattering terms,
When yet both sea and sands beset their ships,
And Phoebus, as in Stygian pools, refrains
To taint his tresses in the Tyrrhene main? JUPITER :
I will take order for that presently.
Hermes, awake! and haste to Neptune's realm,
Whereas the Wind-god, warring now with fate,
Beseige[s] th' offspring of our kingly loins.
Charge him from me to turn his stormy powers,
And fetter them in Vulcan's sturdy brass,
That durst thus proudly wrong our kinsman's peace.
Exit HERMES .
Venus, farewell; thy son shall be our care.
Come, Ganymede, we must about this gear.
Exeunt JUPITER and GANYMEDE . VENUS :
Disquiet seas, lay down your swelling looks,
And court Æneas with your calmy cheer,
Whose beauteous burden well might make you proud,
Had not the heavens, conceiv'd with hell-born clouds,
Veil'd his resplendent glory from your view.
For my sake, pity him, Oceanus,
That erstwhile issu'd from thy watery loins,
And had my being from thy bubbling froth.
Triton, I know, hath fill'd his trump with Troy,
And therefore will take pity on his toil,
And call both Thetis and Cymothoe
To succour him in this extremity.
Enter ÆNEAS , ASCANIUS , ACHATES , and others .
What, do I see my son now come on shore?
Venus, how art thou compass'd with content,
The while thine eyes attract their sought-for joys!
Great Jupiter, still honour'd may'st thou be
For this so friendly aid in time of need!
Here in this bush disguised will I stand,
Whiles my Æneas spends himself in plaints,
And heaven and earth with his unrest acquaints. ÆNEAS :
You sons of care, companions of my course,
Priam's misfortune follows us by sea,
And Helen's rape doth haunt ye at the heels.
How many dangers have we overpass'd!
Both barking Scylla, and the sounding rocks,
The Cyclops' shelves, and grim Cerania's seat
Have you o'ergone, 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. ACHATES :
Brave prince of Troy, thou only art our god,
That by thy virtues free'st us from annoy,
And mak'st our hopes survive to coming joys.
Do thou but smile, and cloudy heaven will clear,
Whose night and day descendeth from thy brows.
Though we be now in extreme misery,
And rest the map of weather-beaten woe,
Yet shall the aged sun shed forth his hair,
To make us live unto our former heat,
And every beast the forest doth send forth
Bequeath her young ones to our scanted food. ASCANIUS :
Father, I faint; good father, give me meat. ÆNEAS :
Alas, sweet boy, thou must be still a while,
Till we have fire to dress the meat we kill'd!
Gentle Achates, reach the tinder box,
That we may make a fire to warm us with,
And roast our new-found victuals on this shore. VENUS ( aside ):
See, what strange arts necessity finds out!
How near, my sweet Æneas, art thou driven! ÆNEAS :
Hold, take this candle, and go light a fire;
You shall have leaves and windfall boughs enow,
Near to these woods, to roast you meat withal.
Ascanius, go and dry thy drenched limbs,
Whiles I with my Achates rove abroad,
To know what coast the wind hath driven us on,
Or whether men or beasts inhabit it.
Exeunt ASCANIUS and others . ACHATES :
The air is pleasant, and the soil most fit
For cities and society's supports;
Yet much I marvel that I cannot find
No steps of men imprinted in the earth. VENUS ( aside ):
Now is the time for me to play my part. –
Ho, young men! Saw you, as you came,
Any of all my sisters wandering here,
Having a quiver girded to her side,
And clothed in a spotted leopard's skin? ÆNEAS :
I neither saw nor heard of any such.
But what may I, fair virgin, call your name,
Whose looks set forth no mortal form to view,
Nor speech bewrays aught human in thy birth?
Thou art a goddess that delud'st our eyes,
And shroud'st thy beauty in this borrow'd shape;
But whether thou the Sun's bright sister be,
Or one of chaste Diana's fellow nymphs,
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 call'd
On which by tempests' fury we are cast.
Tell us, O, tell us, that are ignorant!
And this right hand shall make thy altars crack
With mountain-heaps of milk-white sacrifice. VENUS :
Such honour, stranger, do I not affect.
It is the use for Turen maids to wear
Their bow and quiver in this modest sort,
And suit themselves in purple for the nonce,
That they may trip more lightly o'er the lawnds,
And overtake the tusked boar in chase.
But for the land whereof thou dost inquire,
It is the Punic kingdom, rich and strong,
Adjoining on Agenor's stately town,
The kingly seat of Southern Libya,
Whereas Sidonian Dido rules as queen.
But what are you that ask of me these things?
Whence may you come, or whither will you go? ÆNEAS :
Of Troy am I. Æneas 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 Phrygian ships I plough'd the deep,
And made that way my mother Venus led;
But of them all scarce seven do anchor safe,
And they so wrack'd and welter'd by the waves,
As every tide tilts 'twixt their oaken sides,
And all of them, unburden'd of their load,
Are ballassed with billows' watery weight.
But hapless I, God wot, poor and unknown,
Do trace these Libyan deserts, all despis'd,
Exil'd forth Europe and wide Asia both,
And have not any coverture but heaven. VENUS :
Fortune hath favour'd thee, whate'er thou be,
In sending thee unto this courteous coast.
A' God's name, on! and haste thee to the court,
Where Dido will receive ye with her smiles.
And for thy ships, which thou supposest lost,
Not one of them hath perish'd in the storm,
But are arrived safe, not far from hence.
And so I leave thee to thy fortune's lot,
Wishing good luck unto thy wandering steps.
Exit. ÆNEAS :
Achates, '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 deceiv'st 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 leav'st me here alone
To dull the air with my discoursive moan.
Exeunt.
SCENE TWO
Enter IARBAS , followed by ILIONEUS , CLOANTHUS , SERGESTUS , and others . ILIONEUS :
Follow, ye Trojans, follow this brave lord,
And plain to him the sum of your distress. IARBAS :
Why, what are you, or wherefore do you sue? ILIONEUS :
Wretches of Troy, envied of the winds,
That crave such favour at your honour's feet,
As poor distressed misery may plead:
Save, save, O, save our ships from cruel fire,
That do complain the wounds of thousand waves,
And spare our lives, whom every spite pursues!
We come not, we, to wrong your Libyan gods,
Or steal your household Lares from their shrines.
Our hands are not prepar'd to lawless spoil,
Nor armed to offend in any kind;
Such force is far from our unweapon'd thoughts,
Whose fading weal, of victory forsook,
Forbids all hope to harbour near our hearts. IARBAS :
But tell me, Trojans, Trojans if you be,
Unto what fruitful quarters were ye bound,
Before that Boreas buckled with your sails? CLOANTHUS :
There is a place, Hesperia term'd by us,
An ancient empire, famoused for arms,
And fertile in fair Ceres' furrow'd wealth,
Which now we call Italia, of his name
That in such peace long time did rule the same.
Thither made we;
When, suddenly, gloomy Orion rose,
And led our ships into the shallow sands,
Whereas the southern wind with brackish breath,
Dispers'd them all amongst the wrackful rocks.
From thence a few of us escap'd to land;
The rest, we fear, are folded in the floods. IARBAS :
Brave men-at-arms, abandon fruitless fears,
Since Carthage knows to entertain distress. SERGESTUS :
Ay, but the barbrous sort do threat our ships,
And will not let us lodge upon the sands;
In multitudes they swarm unto the shore,
And from the first earth interdict our feet. IARBAS :
Myself will see they shall not trouble ye:
Your men and you shall banquet in our court,
And every Trojan be as welcome here
As Jupiter to silly Baucis' house.
Come in with me; I'll bring you to my queen,
Who shall confirm my words with further deeds. SERGESTUS :
Thanks, gentle lord, for such unlook'd-for grace:
Might we but once more see Æneas' face,
Then would we hope to quite such friendly turns,
As shall surpass the wonder of our speech.
Exeunt .
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