Æn. O, how these irksome labours now delight, And overjoy my thoughts with their escape! Who would not undergo all kind of toil, To be well stor'd with such a winter's tale?
Dido. Æneas, leave these dumps, and let's away.60 Some to the mountains, some unto the soil, [505] You to the valleys,—thou unto the house. [Exeunt all except Iarbas.
Iar. I, this it is which wounds me to the death, To see a Phrygian, far-fet [506] o'er the sea, Preferr'd before a man of majesty. O love! O hate! O cruel women's hearts, That imitate the moon in every change, And, like the planets, ever love to range! What shall I do, thus wrongèd with disdain? Revenge me on Æneas or on her?70 On her! fond man, that were to war 'gainst heaven, And with one shaft provoke ten thousand darts. This Trojan's end will be thy envy's aim, Whose blood will reconcile thee to content, And make love drunken with thy sweet desire. But Dido, that now holdeth him so dear, Will die with very tidings of his death: But time will discontinue her content, And mould her mind unto new fancy's shapes, O God of heaven, turn the hand of Fate80 Unto that happy day of my delight! And then—what then? Iarbas shall but love: So doth he now, though not with equal gain; That resteth in the rival of thy pain, Who ne'er will cease to soar till he be slain. [Exit.
SCENE IV.
The storm. Enter Æneas and Dido in the cave, at several times.
Dido. Æneas!
Dido. Tell me, dear love, how found you out this cave?
Æn. By chance, sweet queen, as Mars and Venus met.
Dido. Why, that was in a net, where we are loose; And yet I am not free,—O, would I were!