Anna. Iarbas, stay, loving Iarbas, stay! For I have honey to present thee with. Hard-hearted, wilt not deign to hear me speak? I'll follow thee with outcries ne'ertheless, And strew thy walks with my dishevell'd hair. [Exit.
SCENE III.
Enter Æneas. [518]
Æn. Carthage, my friendly host, adieu! Since Destiny doth call me from thy [519] 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 Phœnissa grant, and then I go. Grant she or no, Æneas must away; Whose golden fortunes, clogg'd with courtly ease, Cannot ascend to fame's immortal house, Or banquet in bright Honour's burnished hall,10 Till he hath furrowed Neptune's glassy fields, And cut a passage through his topless [520] hills.— Achates, come forth! Sergestus, Ilioneus, Cloanthus, haste away! Æneas calls.
Enter Achates, Cloanthus, Sergestus, and Ilioneus.
Ach. What wills our lord, or wherefore did he call?
Æn. The dreams, brave mates, that did beset my bed, When sleep but newly had embrac'd the night, Commands me leave these unrenowmèd realms, [521] Whereas nobility abhors to stay, And none but base Æneas will abide.20 Aboard, aboard! since Fates do bid aboard, And slice the sea with sable-colour'd ships, On whom the nimble winds may all day wait, And follow them, as footmen, through the deep. Yet Dido casts her eyes, like anchors, out, To stay my fleet from loosing forth the bay: "Come back, come back," I hear her cry a-far, "And let me link thy [522] body to my lips, That, tied together by the striving tongues, We may, as one, sail into Italy."30
Ach. Banish that ticing dame from forth your mouth, And follow your fore-seeing stars in all: This is no life for men-at-arms to live, Where dalliance doth consume a soldier's strength, And wanton motions of alluring eyes Effeminate our minds, inur'd to war.
Ili. Why, let us build a city of our own, And not stand lingering here for amorous looks. Will Dido raise old Priam forth his grave, And build the town again the Greeks did burn?40 No, no; she cares not how we sink or swim, So she may have Æneas in her arms.
Clo. To Italy, sweet friends, to Italy! We will not stay a minute longer here.