ACT II.
SCENE I.
Enter [461] Æneas, Achates, Ascanius, and others.
Æn. Where am I now? these should be Carthage-walls.
Ach. Why stands my sweet Æneas thus amaz'd?
Æn. O my Achates, Theban Niobe, Who for her sons' death wept out life and breath, And, dry with grief, was turned into a stone, Had not such passions in her head as I! Methinks, That town there should be Troy, yon Ida's hill, There Xanthus' stream, because here's Priamus; And when I know it is not, then I die.10
Ach. And in this humour is Achates too; I cannot choose but fall upon my knees, And kiss his hand. O, where is Hecuba? Here she was wont to sit; but, saving air, Is nothing here; and what is this but stone? [462]
Æn. O, yet this stone doth make Æneas weep! And would my prayers (as Pygmalion's did) Could give it life, that under his condùct We might sail back to Troy, and be revenged On these hard-hearted Grecians which rejoice20 That nothing now is left of Priamus! O, Priamus is left, and this is he! Come, come aboard; pursue the hateful Greeks.
Ach. What means Æneas?
Æn. Achates, though mine eyes say this is stone, Yet thinks my mind that this is Priamus; And when my grievèd heart sighs and says no, Then would it leap out to give Priam life.— O, were I not at all, so thou mightst be;— Achates, see, King Priam wags his hand!30 He is alive; Troy is not overcome!
Ach. Thy mind, Æneas, that would have it so, Deludes thy eye-sight; Priamus is dead.
Æn. Ah, Troy is sack'd, and Priamus is dead! And why should poor Æneas be alive?
Asc. Sweet father, leave to weep; this is not he, For, were it Priam, he would smile on me.
Ach. Æneas, see, here come the citizens: Leave to lament, lest they laugh at our fears. [463]
Enter Cloanthus, Sergestus, Ilioneus, and others.
Æn. Lords of this town, or whatsoever style40 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 clime we are.
Ili. I hear Æneas' voice, but see him not, [464] For none of these can be our general.
Ach. Like Ilioneus speaks this nobleman, But Ilioneus goes not in such robes.
Serg. You are Achates, or I [am] deceiv'd.50
Ach. Æneas, see, Sergestus, or his ghost!
Ili. He names [465] Æneas; let us kiss his feet.
Clo. It is our captain; see, Ascanius!
Serg. Live long Æneas and Ascanius!
Æn. Achates, speak, for I am overjoyed.
Ach. O Ilioneus, art thou yet alive?
Ili. Blest be the time I see Achates' face!
Clo. Why turns Æneas from his trusty friends?
Æn. Sergestus, Ilioneus, and the rest, Your sight amazed me. O, what destinies60 Have brought my sweet companions in such plight? O, tell me, for I long to be resolved!
Ili. Lovely Æneas, these are Carthage-walls; And here Queen Dido wears th' imperial crown, Who for Troy's sake hath entertained us all, And clad us in these wealthy robes we wear. Oft hath she asked us under whom we served; And, when we told her, she would weep for grief, Thinking the sea had swallowed up thy ships; And, now she sees thee, how will she rejoice!70
Serg. See, where her servitors pass through the hall, [466] Bearing a banquet: Dido is not far.
Ili. Look, where she comes; Æneas, view [467] her well.
Æn. Well may I view her; but she sees not me.
Enter Dido, Anna, Iarbas, and train.
Dido. What stranger art thou, that dost eye me thus?
Æn. Sometime I was a Trojan, mighty queen; But Troy is not:—what shall I say I am?
Ili. Renowmèd Dido, 'tis our general, Warlike Æneas.
Dido. Warlike Æneas, and in these base robes!80 Go fetch the garment which Sichæus ware.— [Exit an Attendant, who brings in the garment, which Æneas puts on. Brave prince, welcome to Carthage and to me, Both happy that Æneas is our guest. Sit in this chair, and banquet with a queen: Æneas is Æneas, were he clad In weeds as bad as ever Irus ware.
Æn. This is no seat for one that's comfortless: May it please your grace to let Æneas wait; For though my birth be great, my fortune's mean, Too mean to be companion to a queen.90
Dido. Thy fortune may be greater than thy birth: Sit down, Æneas, sit in Dido's place; And, if this be thy son, as I suppose, Here let him sit.—Be merry, lovely child.
Æn. This place beseems me not; O, pardon me!
Dido. I'll have it so; Æneas, be content.
Asc. Madam, you shall be my mother.
Dido. And so I will, sweet child.—Be merry, man: Here's to thy better fortune and good stars. [Drinks.
Æn. In all humility, I thank your grace.100
Dido. Remember who thou art; speak like thyself: Humility belongs to common grooms.
Æn. And who so miserable as Æneas is?
Dido. Lies it in Dido's hands to make thee blest? Then be assur'd thou art not miserable.
Æn. O Priamus, O Troy, O Hecuba!
Dido. May I entreat thee to discourse at large, And truly too, how Troy was overcome? For many tales go of that city's fall, And scarcely do agree upon one point:110 Some say Antenor did betray the town; Others report 'twas Sinon's perjury; But all in this, that Troy is overcome, And Priam dead; yet how, we hear no news.
Æn. A woful tale bids Dido to unfold, Whose memory, like pale Death's stony mace, Beats forth my senses from this troubled soul, And makes Æneas sink at Dido's feet.
Dido. What, faints Æneas to remember Troy, In whose defence he fought so valiantly?120 Look up, and speak.
Æn. Then speak Æneas, with Achilles' tongue: And, Dido, and you Carthaginian peers, Hear me; but yet with Myrmidons' harsh ears, Daily inured to broils and massacres, Lest you be mov'd too much with my sad tale. The Grecian soldiers, tir'd with ten years' war, Began to cry, "Let us unto our ships, Troy is invincible, why stay we here?" With whose outcries Atrides being appalled130 Summon'd the captains to his princely tent; Who, looking on the scars we Trojans gave, Seeing the number of their men decreas'd, And the remainder weak and out of heart, Gave up their voices to dislodge the camp, And so in troops all marched to Tenedos; [468] 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 drive huge billows to the shore,140 And heaven was darkened with tempestuous clouds; Then he alleg'd the gods would have them stay, And prophesied Troy should be overcome: And therewithal he call'd false Sinon forth, A man compact of craft and perjury, Whose ticing tongue was made of Hermes' pipe, To force an hundred watchful eyes to sleep; And him, Epeus having made the horse, With sacrificing wreaths upon his head, Ulysses sent to our unhappy town;150 Who, grovelling in the mire of Xanthus' banks, His hands bound at his back, and both his eyes Turned up to heaven, as one resolved to die, Our Phrygian shepherd haled within the gates, And brought unto the court of Priamus; To whom he used action so pitiful, Looks so remorseful, vows so forcible, As therewithal the old man overcome, Kissed him, embraced him, and unloosed his bands; And then—O Dido, pardon me!160
Dido. Nay, leave not here; resolve me of the rest.
Æn. O, th' enchanting words of that base slave Made him to think Epeus' pine-tree horse A sacrifice t' appease Minerva's wrath! The rather, for that one Laocoon, Breaking a spear upon his hollow breast, Was with two wingèd serpents stung to death. Whereat aghast, we were commanded straight With reverence to draw it into Troy: In which unhappy work was I employed;170 These hands did help to hale it to the gates, Through which it could not enter, 'twas so huge,— O, had it never enter'd, Troy had stood! But Priamus, impatient of delay, Enforced a wide breach in that rampired wall Which thousand battering-rams could never pierce, And so came in this fatal instrument: At whose accursèd feet, as overjoyed, We banqueted, till, overcome with wine, Some surfeited, and others soundly slept.180 Which Sinon viewing, caus'd the Greekish spies To haste 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 [469] fire That after burnt the pride of Asia. By this, the camp was come unto the walls, And through the breach did march into the streets,190 Where, meeting with the rest; "Kill, kill!" they cried. Frighted with this confusèd noise, I rose, And, looking from a turret, might behold Young infants swimming in their parents' blood, Headless carcases pilèd up in heaps, Virgins half-dead, dragged by their golden hair, And with main force flung on a ring [470] of pikes, Old men with swords thrust through their agèd sides, Kneeling for mercy to a Greekish lad,200 Who with steel pole-axes dash'd out their brains. Then buckled I mine armour, drew my sword, And thinking to go down, came Hector's ghost, [471] With ashy visage, blueish sulphur eyes, His arms torn from his shoulders, and his breast Furrowed with wounds, and, that which made me weep, Thongs at his heels, by which Achilles' horse Drew him in triumph through the Greekish camp, Burst from the earth, crying "Æneas, fly! Troy is a-fire, the Grecians have the town!"210
Dido. O Hector, who weeps not to hear thy name?
Æn. 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 [472] dropping blood, and on his spear The mangled head of Priam's youngest son; And, after him, his band of Myrmidons, With balls of wild-fire in their murdering paws, Which made the funeral flame that burnt fair Troy;220 All which hemmed me about, crying, "This is he!"
Dido. Ah, how could poor Æneas scape their hands?
Æn. My mother Venus, jealous of my health, Convey'd me from their crookèd nets and bands; 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, Folding his hand in hers, and jointly both Beating their breasts, and falling on the ground, He, with his falchion's point raised up at once,230 And with Megæra's eyes, star'd in their face, Threatening a thousand deaths at every glance: To whom the agèd 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, or king: Yet who so wretched but desires to live? O, let me live, great Neoptolemus!"240 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.
Dido. O, end, Æneas! I can hear no more.
Æn. At which the frantic queen leaped on his face, And in his eyelids hanging by the nails, A little while prolonged her husband's life. At last, the soldiers pull'd her by the heels, And swung her howling in the empty air, Which sent an echo to the wounded king:250 Whereat he lifted up his bed-rid limbs, And would have grappled with Achilles' son, Forgetting both his want of strength and hands; Which he disdaining, whisk'd his sword about, And with the wind thereof the king fell down; [473] Then from the navel to the throat at once He ripp'd 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,260 And dipped it in the old king's chill-cold blood, And then in triumph ran into the streets, Through which he could not pass for slaughter'd men; So, leaning on his sword, he stood stone-still, Viewing the fire wherewith rich Ilion burnt. By this, I got my father on my back, This young boy in mine arms, and by the hand Led fair Creusa, my belovèd wife; When thou, Achates, with thy sword mad'st way, And we were round environed with the Greeks:270 O, 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 know'st We saw Cassandra sprawling in the streets, Whom Ajax ravished in Diana's fane, [474] Her cheeks swollen with sighs, her hair all rent; Whom I took up to bear unto our ships; But suddenly the Grecians followed us, And I, alas, was forced to let her lie!280 Then got we to our ships, and, being aboard, Polyxena cried out, "Æneas, stay! The Greeks pursue me; stay, and take me in!" Moved with her voice, I leap'd 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 Myrmidons surprised, And, after that, by [475] Pyrrhus sacrificed.
Dido. I die with melting ruth; Æneas, leave. [476]290
Anna. O, what became of agèd Hecuba?
Iar. How got Æneas to the fleet again?
Dido. But how scaped Helen, she that caus'd this war?
Æn. Achates, speak; sorrow hath tir'd me quite.
Ach. What happen'd to the queen we cannot show; We hear they led her captive into Greece: As for Æneas, he swom quickly back; And Helena betrayed Deiphobus, Her lover, after Alexander died, And so was reconciled to Menelaus.300
Dido. O, had that ticing strumpet ne'er been born!— Trojan, thy ruthful tale hath made me sad: Come, let us think upon some pleasing sport, To rid me from these melancholy thoughts. [Exeunt all except Ascanius, whom Venus, entering with Cupid at another door, takes by the sleeve as he is going off.
Ven. Fair child, stay thou with Dido's waiting-maid: I'll give thee sugar-almonds, sweet conserves, A silver girdle, and a golden purse, And this young prince shall be thy playfellow.
Asc. Are you Queen Dido's son?
Cup. I; and my mother gave me this fine bow.310
Asc. Shall I have such a quiver and a bow?
Ven. Such bow, such quiver, and such golden shafts, Will Dido give to sweet Ascanius. For Dido's sake I take thee in my arms, And stick these spangled feathers in thy hat: Eat comfits in mine arms, and I will sing. [Sings. Now is he fast asleep; and in his grove, [477] Amongst green brakes, I'll lay Ascanius, And strew him with sweet-smelling violets, Blushing roses, purple hyacinth:320 These milk-white doves shall be his centronels, [478] Who, if that any seek to do him hurt, Will quickly fly to Cytherea's [479] fist. Now, Cupid, turn thee to Ascanius' shape, And go to Dido, who, instead of him, Will set thee on her lap, and play with thee: Then touch her white breast with this arrow-head, That she may dote upon Æneas' love, And by that means repair his broken ships, Victual his soldiers, give him wealthy gifts,330 And he, at last, depart to Italy, Or else in Carthage make his kingly throne.
Cup. I will, fair mother; and so play my part As every touch shall wound Queen Dido's heart. [Exit.
Ven. Sleep, my sweet nephew, [480] in these cooling shades, Free from the murmur of these running streams, The cry of beasts, the rattling of the winds, Or whisking of these leaves: all shall be still, And nothing interrupt thy quiet sleep, Till I return, and take thee hence again.340 [Exit.