University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

A magnificent hall of audience, with a throne on one side. A prospect of the city of Carthage.
Æneas, Selene, Osmidas.
Æn.
No princess, friend, believe not fear or hatred
Unmoors the Phrygian fleet and drives me hence:
I know that Dido loves me (ah! too well
I've prov'd that truth), nor doubt her constant faith.
I love and I adore her: gratitude
Warms every thought for all her kindness shewn
To me, to mine. But destiny commands
Once more to expose my life on Neptune's waves.
Such is the will of Heaven! Ah me unhappy!
The crime of Fate must thus appear my own.

Sel.
If after wandering long thou seek'st a rest
And settled home; 'tis offer'd on this shore:
My sister gives, thy merits and our friendship
Confirm the wish'd asylum.

Æn.
Such asylum
Heaven grants not yet.

Sel.
And wherefore?

Osm.
By what signs
Have the just Gods to you reveal'd their will?

Æn.
Osmidas, sleep has never clos'd these eyes,
In sweet oblivion, but he brings to view
My father's angry shade: “O son! (he cries,
“I hear his well-known voice) ungrateful son!
“Are these the Italian realms, whose conquest oft
“To thee have Phœbus and myself enjoin'd?
“Ill-fated Asia from thy valour hopes
“In other climes renew'd another Troy.
“This didst thou promise, this, in life's last moments
“I heard thee swear, when kneeling, on this hand
“Thy filial kiss confirm'd the solemn compact.
“And now, ungrateful to thyself, thy country,
“Thy father, here thou dwell'st in sloth and love—
“Rise, cut the cords that hold thy tardy vessels,
“And loose thy spreading sails.”—Such warning given
He darts an angry glance and disappears.

Sel.
I freeze with horror.

Osm.
If Æneas leave us
I lose in him a rival to the throne.

[aside.
Sel.
[to Æn.]
If you forsake us, hapless Dido dies,—
And ah! Selene never can survive.

[aside.
Osm.
The queen approaches.

Æn.
Whither shall I turn?

Sel.
I dare not speak my pains.

[aside.
Æn.
Be firm my heart,
Thy trial comes!

[aside.

SCENE II.

Enter Dido attended.
Did.
Æneas, Asia's glory,
The care of Venus and of Dido; see
How proud, exulting in thy presence here,
Our infant Carthage lifts her towering head.
Those arches, temples, walls, are all the fruit
Of Dido's toils; but thou, Æneas, thou
Art their first boast and noblest ornament.
Thou dost not answer—shunn'st me—Is it thus
Æneas meets me with repulsive silence?
Perchance some other passion from thy heart
Has driven my once-lov'd form.

Æn.
The Gods can witness
Dido is ever present to my mind:
Nor time, nor distance e'er shall shed oblivion
(Those Gods alike can witness) o'er my passion.

Did.
Wherefore these protestations! Dido seeks
No vows to bind thy faith—a look, a sigh,
Ensures from me belief.

Osm.
She trusts too far.

[aside.
Sel.
I dare not yet complain.

[aside.
Æn.
If thou regard'st
Thy own repose, think of thyself, thy greatness,
And think of me no more.

Did.
Not think of thee!
I that but live for thee! I that enjoy
No moment's peace when thou art absent from me?

Æn.
O Heaven! what hast thou said? Is this a time
For such effusive tenderness? Alas!
Too generous for ingratitude like mine!

Did.
Ingratitude, Æneas! Is my love
Then hateful to thee?

Æn.
Never has my soul
Confess'd a purer flame—but—

Did.
Speak—

Æn.
My country—
Heaven's high command—

Did.
Go on.

Æn.
I cannot speak it.
[Exit.

SCENE III.

Dido, Selene, Osmidas, attendants.
Did.
And does Æneas fly me thus? What means
Such cruel silence! how have I offended!

Sel.
His purpose is to leave thee—Love and Glory
With doubtful empire struggle in his heart.

Did.
And does he find it glory to forsake me?

Osm.
Now policy assist me! [aside.]
—Mighty queen!
Selene little reads Æneas' thoughts:
Arbaces from the Moorish court is sent
Ambassador to Carthage.

Did.
Well, what follows?

Osm.
The haughty king demands your hand in marriage.
Æneas fears that you, by force compell'd,
Will yield to his demand; and therefore flies
To shun the grief to see you wed another.

Did.
It may be so—go, dearest sister, chace
From my Æneas such unkind suspicions,
And tell him death alone shall tear me from him.

Sel.
This I must suffer too! relentless fate!
[aside.

Exit.

SCENE IV.

Dido, Osmidas, attendants.
Did.
Now let Arbaces come; whate'er his purpose,
A suppliant or a foe, he comes in vain:
Before his sight, ere yet the day declines
To western skies, the sun shall see this hand
Given to Æneas—he and he alone
Is worthy to possess the heart of Dido:
This shall Arbaces know.

Osm.
Arbaces comes.

SCENE V.

Enter Iarbas, under the name of Arbaces, with Araspes. A train of Moors; various attendants bringing tigers, lions, and other presents to the Queen. Dido ascends the throne, Osmidas on her right hand: two Carthaginians bring the cushions for the African Ambassador and place them at a distance fronting the throne.
Aras.
Behold, my king— [aside to him, entering.


Iar.
Be silent—while I wear
[aside to Aras.
A subject's semblance, call me still Arbaces,
And be the king forgot—Dido, to thee,
The sovereign of the Moors deputes Arbaces,
His faithful nunciate. At thy choice I bring
Thy kingdom's safety or thy kingdom's ruin.
The presents here display'd, gems, treasure, captives,
And savage beasts, the wealth of subject Afric,
He sends, O queen, as pledges of his greatness:
Then learn the giver from the gift.

Did.
Should Dido
Accept his gift, the giver's well rewarded;
But let him heed, or what he means a gift
May prove a tribute—Insolence like this
The soul of Dido scorns.— [aside.]
Sit then and speak.

Aras.
What thinks my sovereign?

[aside to Iar.
Iar.
Lovely in her pride!
[to him—sits.
Remember, Dido, what thou cam'st from Tyre,
What desperate fortune drove thee to these shores;
'Twas Afric only gave thee rest and safety
From thy inhuman brother's impious thirst
Of wealth and blood: this ample space, where now
Aspiring Carthage rises, was the gift
Of my great master's hand: Iarbas—

Did.
Hold!
Thou dost confound a purchase with a gift.

Iar.
First let me speak and then reply.

Did.
What boldness!

[to Osm.
Osm.
Let him proceed.

[to Did.
Iar.
My courteous king, Iarbas,
Sought thee in marriage, and refus'd, endur'd
The unworthy slight, because thy widow's vows
Were then devoted to Sichæus' ashes,
All Afric now has heard that from the ruins
Of Asia's kingdom here Æneas found
From thee a welcome, that thy heart is given
To him; nor will the sovereign of the Moors
Permit a wandering exile, 'scap'd from Troy,
To rival him in love.

Did.
His love and hate
To me are equal.

Iar.
Let me first conclude,
Then may'st thou answer. Know my generous king
Instead of war has sent to offer peace.
Act as thou wilt—forgetful of the past,
He seeks thy love, demands to share thy nuptials,
And asks with these Æneas' forfeit head.

Did.
Hast thou yet finish'd?

Iar.
I have finish'd.

Did.
Know
To Lybian sands I came from regal Tyre
For freedom not for bondage. Carthage stands
My treasure's purchase, not thy monarch's gift.
When to Iarbas I refus'd my hand,
And widow'd heart, I meant to keep my faith
To dead Sichæus—Dido now is chang'd—
Far other thoughts—

Iar.
Since Dido now has chang'd—

Did.
First let me answer, then Arbaces, speak.
Yes, Dido now is chang'd—'tis wisdom oft
To vary thoughts with time—Æneas' worth
Has touch'd my heart; his valour shall support
My rising throne, and marriage make us one.

Iar.
But first his head—

Did.
His head will prove a conquest
Not lightly gain'd—this exile scap'd from Troy
May give the sovereign of the Moors such toil,
He yet but little fears.

Iar.
Should'st thou provoke
My king's resentment, soon expect to see
Against thee Afric pour her numerous sons,
From Garamantia and Getulia's plains,
And hot Numidia's confines.

Did.
Let Æneas
But own my cause, and Afric pour her sons
From Garamantia and Getulia's plains,
From hot Numidia's clime, and all the world
Conspire against my empire.

Iar.
Shall I then
Report this answer?

Did.
Thou mayst say that Dido
Heeds not the soothing of Iarbas' love,
Nor fears his indignation.

Iar.
Still reflect—
Think better, Dido.

Did.
I have thought enough.
[both rise.

[Exit attended.

SCENE VI.

Iarbas, Araspes, Osmidas.
Iar.
Araspes, vengeance.—

[going.
Aras.
Where thou lead'st I follow.

Osm.
Arbaces, stay.

Iar.
What can he seek with me?

[to Aras.
Osm.
May I at will confer with thee?

Iar.
Speak on.

Osm.
If thou wilt make me partner of thy counsels,
Receive my profferr'd aid. The queen intrusts me;
Æneas ranks me for his friend; the troops
Wait on my nod, and ample power is mine
To forward thy designs.

Iar.
And who art thou?

Osm.
A follower of the Tyrian queen, Osmidas,
In Cyprus was I born, and boast a mind
Above my humble fortune.

Iar.
I accept
Thy profferr'd aid, and if I find thee faithful,
Whate'er thou wishest, be thy bright reward.

Osm.
Let Dido be thy sovereign's, and to me
Be yielded then the government of Carthage.

Iar.
I plight my faith it shall be thine.

Osm.
But will
Thy sovereign's power confirm the mighty grant?

Iar.
The king bestows it when Arbaces gives.

Osm.
Then—

Iar.
Every little act may breed suspicion:
Reserve thy counsels for some fitter place
Retir'd from notice—On my faith rely,
Whene'er Iarbas weds, Osmidas reigns.

Osm.
Disclose each plan thy soul revolves,
My zeal shall second thy resolves,
Thy hopes, thy vengeance aid:
So murmuring through the verdant meads,
A stream its gentle current leads,
With genial power a sapling feeds,
Whose branches deck the glade.

[Exit.

SCENE VII.

Iarbas, Araspes.
Iar.
Vain, easy fool! to hope such promise given
Would find from me performance.

Aras.
Yet, my sovereign,
Your sacred word is past.

Iar.
Who keeps not faith
To others, merits not himself to find it.
Go, lov'd Araspes, all delay is torture
To rage like mine—go, let one blow from thee
Secure my vengeance—let Æneas die.

Aras.
I go—and fate shall soon in open combat
Decide between our valour.

[going.
Iar.
Stay, Araspes,
Let not thy fame, my hatred and my vengeance,
Be left to chance like this—fraud shall assist us;
Assail him unprovided.

Aras.
Fraud! my sovereign?
A subject was I born, but never yet
Have earn'd the name of traitor—Bid me run,
Naked through flames, expose to hostile arms
This fenceless breast,—I'll fearless dare them all,
Thou art the master of my life—Araspes
Shrinks from no trial to defend his king;
But, Oh! exact not from this sword a deed
That bears the stamp of treason.

Iar.
Fond delusion
Of vulgar minds—I shall not want an arm
More faithful found than thine.

Aras.
How! mighty Gods!
Thy virtue sure—

Iar.
What virtue? In the world
Virtue is but a name, or that alone
Is virtue, which secures our weal or pleasure.

[Exit.

SCENE VIII.

Araspes alone.
O impious doctrine! canst thou then, unhappy,
Be stranger to the feelings of remorse,
Remorse that follows even successful guilt;
Nor know the peace that virtue gives misfortune?
O! thou the world's support! the glorious boast
Of men and Gods, fair Virtue, lead me still.
[Exit.

SCENE IX.

A court-yard.
Selene, Æneas.
Æn.
Already have I told you, fair Selene,
That ill Osmidas has explain'd my thoughts.
Ah! would to Heaven that Dido were unfaithful,
Or that I could one moment, self-deceiv'd,
Believe her faithless to me!—But to know
That still she loves Æneas, that compell'd
I yet must leave her—this, indeed, is torture!

Sel.
Whatever cause constrains you to depart
At least defer the parting: bend your steps
To Neptune's hallow'd fane, my sister there
Demands a moment's audience.

Æn.
Dreadful pause!

Sel.
First hear her, then depart.

Æn.
And shall I take
A last farewell of all my soul adores!

Sel.
Can I be silent still and live?

[aside.
Æn.
Selene,
You weep.

Sel.
Ah! can I hear you, yet restrain
The sympathizing tear?

Æn.
Forbear your sighs,
'Tis Dido should alone lament my going.

Sel.
One heart, alas! myself and Dido bear.

Æn.
Do you so nearly feel a sister's sorrow?

Sel.
She lives in me, and I so live in her,
That all the afflictions she endures, are mine.

Æn.
Most generous maid! I pity your distress,
And in your sorrows, half forget my own.

Sel.
O! could you read my heart, you truly then
Might feel for poor Selene.

SCENE X.

Enter Iarbas and Araspes.
Iar.
I have search'd
The palace round, nor yet can find Æneas.

Aras.
Perchance he sails from Carthage.

Iar.
Would yon warrior
[sees Æn.
Were him I seek.—He seems not by his garb
Of Afric's sons—What art thou, stranger? Say.

[to him.
Aras.
O how her beauty strikes my ravish'd eyes!

[looking at Sel.
Æn.
Lovely Selene—

[looking at Sel.
Iar.
Sure, thou hear'st me not.

[to Æn.
Æn.
O! too, too feeling for another's woes!

[to Sel.
Sel.
What arrogant deportment!

[looking at Iar.
Aras.
Heavens! how fair!

[looking at Sel.
Iar.
Declare thy name, or now—

[to Æn.
Æn.
What right hast thou
To make this proud demand, or what to thee
Imports my name or birth?

Iar.
To me, my will
Is all the right I seek.

Æn.
It is not here
Our wont to answer madmen.

[going.
Iar.
Answer then
This trusty weapon.

[about to draw.
Sel.
In Selene's sight!
In Dido's palace such presumptuous bearing!

Iar.
And does an envoy from Iarbas claim
No more respect?

Sel.
The queen shall learn this outrage.

Iar.
This let her learn, and in her own despite
Behold me lop yon traitor's daring head,
And join'd with that of her Æneas, cast it
Before the feet of my offended king.

Æn.
The deed may prove more arduous than thy fond
O'erweening hopes presage.

Iar.
Wilt thou oppose it?
Or that Æneas, who, for glories won,
Recounts his past defeats?

Æn.
Yet know, proud man,
Thy boasted victories, in glory's scale,
May yield to his defeats.

Iar.
And who art thou,
That dar'st for him provoke me?

Æn.
I am one,
Let this suffice, who holds thy wrath in scorn.

[Exit.

SCENE XI.

Iarbas, Selene, Araspes.
Iar.
Thou shalt not 'scape me thus—

[going.
Sel.
What would'st thou? Say.

[detaining him.
Iar.
Give me his name.

Sel.
Be calm—
And learn it then from me.

Iar.
I ask no more.

Sel.
Know'st thou that stranger, whom thy rage insulted,
Is him thou seek'st—Æneas?

Iar.
Thou hast robb'd me
Of great revenge, forbid this hand to reap
Those honours which indulgent Heaven prepar'd.

Sel.
Whence all this anger? How has he, Arbaces,
Offended thee?

Iar.
He with my sovereign dares
Contend for Dido's love, and canst thou ask
In what I am offended?

Sel.
Think'st thou then
That every lover can elect at will
The heart's dear object? Ah! thou little know'st,
Arbaces yet, the wayward school of love.

[Exit.

SCENE XII.

Iarbas, Araspes.
Iar.
Iarbas shall no longer lurk conceal'd,
Araspes, I've already borne too much.

Aras.
What would you then?

Iar.
I'll summon all my warriors
At my arrival in the wood conceal'd,
And lead them to the palace; hurl destruction
On hated Carthage; tear my rival's heart
From his detested breast—

SCENE XIII.

Enter Osmidas in haste.
Osm.
My lord, already
The queen prepares to visit Neptune's temple;
If you delay, even now, before your sight,
She to the haughty Trojan gives her hand.

Iar.
Presumptuous daring!

Osm.
'Tis no longer time
For vain complaints.

Iar.
What counsel now remains?

Osm.
The speediest is the best—myself will lead—
Be bold—in every enterprise Osmidas
Will be your buckler and support.

[Exit.

SCENE XIV.

Iarbas, Araspes.
Aras.
My lord,
[to Iar. going.
Ah! whither would you run?

Iar.
To slay my rival.

Aras.
Alas! what means? Your warriors know not yet
Their leader's will.

Iar.
If force should fail, deceit
Shall lend its aid.

Aras.
And would you purchase vengeance
With treachery's impious stain?

Iar.
My love, Araspes,
Emboldens thee too far; I rather wish thee
More prompt to vigorous act, and slow to counsel:
Think what Iarbas is, and what Araspes.

[Exit with Aras.

SCENE XV.

The temple of Neptune, with an image of the God.
Æneas and Osmidas.
Osm.
Then from your lips shall wretched Dido learn
Your purpose to forsake her? O! for pity
Refrain, and spare her heart such rending sorrow.

Æn.
'Tis cruelty to speak, but to conceal it
Were more than treason.

Osm.
Constant to your purpose,
Yet at her tears I trust it soon will change.

Æn.
My grief may end my life, but cannot make me
Deaf to my country's call, my father's honour.

Osm.
Exalted prince! the first of heroes he,
Whose virtue can subdue himself.

Æn.
Alas!
How dear is such a conquest!

SCENE XVI.

Enter Iarbas and Araspes.
Iar.
[to Aras.]
See my rival,
And unaccompanied.

Aras.
Think what you are.

Iar.
[to Aras.]
Follow me and be silent—
Thus my wrongs—

[going to strike Æneas, is prevented by Araspes; the dagger drops from his hand and is taken up by Araspes.
Aras.
O! hold—

Iar.
[to Aras.]
Ah! traitor! thus to aid my foe!

Æn.
What would thy impious fury?

[to Aras. seeing the dagger in his hand.
Osm.
All is lost!

SCENE XVII.

Enter Dido, attended.
Osm.
O queen! we are betray'd, and if Arbaces
Had here delay'd his succour, great Æneas
This day had fallen beneath a barbarous hand.

Did.
Where is the base assassin?

Osm.
See him there,
The murderous weapon in his grasp.

[pointing to Aras.
Did.
What fury
Enflam'd thy bosom to the treacherous deed?

Aras.
My sovereign's glory and my own renown.

Did.
How! did Arbaces disavow—

Aras.
I know it—
He reprobates the deed—I fear his anger,
But never can my conscious soul repent
What is not guilt.

Did.
And feel'st thou no remorse
For such a sacrilege?

Aras.
A thousand times
Would I repeat the daring.

Did.
I'll prevent thee—
Guards, take him hence—

[Exit Aras. guarded.
Æn.
[to Iar.]
O! generous foe! I knew not
In thee such virtue dwelt—come to my breast.

Iar.
Æneas, hold—Araspes sav'd thy life—
I sought thy blood—in me behold Iarbas!

Did.
Iarbas, thou!

Æn.
Thou sovereign of the Moors!

Did.
A kingly bosom harbours not such baseness:
Thou dost belie thy prince—Disarm the traitor.

Iar.
None dare approach me. [draws.]
Death is in this weapon.

Osm.
[aside to Iar.]
Seem but to yield awhile, till time permit
To call our friends in aid—In me confide.

Iar.
Can I submit so tamely.

[aside to Osm.
Æn.
Hold, my friends,
'Tis mine to punish him.

Did.
[to Æn.]
Reserve thy valour
For nobler deeds—
[to Iar.]
What canst thou hope? Or yield,
Or fall a bloody victim at my feet.

Osm.
Reserve thee for a future noble vengeance.

[aside to Iar.
Iar.
There—take my sword.

[throws down his sword, which is taken up by the guards.—Exit Iarbas guarded, followed by Osmidas and Araspes.

SCENE XVIII.

Dido, Æneas.
Did.
Æneas, thou art safe:
The Gods for me preserve a life so precious.

Æn.
O Heaven! my queen—

Did.
Again dost thou retain
A doubt of Dido's truth?

Æn.
O no!—my fate
Is far more wretched—I must leave thee, Dido.

Did.
Leave me! what fatal cause?

Æn.
The will of Jove,
My father's shade, my country, Heaven's command,
My faith, my duty, honour, empire, all
Now summon me to tread the Italian shores:
My long delay too much offends the Gods.

Did.
And hast thou then, perfidious! till this hour
Conceal'd thy cruel purpose?

Æn.
O! 'twas pity.

Did.
Pity! thy lips had sworn me endless truth
When thy false heart prepar'd to part for ever!
Whom shall I trust again?—A wretched outcast
Of winds and waves, receiv'd upon my coast,—
I gave him welcome from the seas; refitted
His scatter'd fleet and arms; with him I shar'd
My heart and throne—and ah! as this were little,
For him I have provok'd a hundred kings,
That profferr'd me their love—Lo! such reward
Has faith like mine—Ah! whom, unhappy Dido,
Whom shalt thou trust again?

Æn.
O! while I live
Thy name shall be the solace of my thoughts:
O! never, Dido, would I quit these shores
Had not the will of Heaven decreed my toils,
To raise another realm in Latian climes.

Did.
The Gods indeed have then no other care
Than great Æneas' fate.

Æn.
And would'st thou then
Æneas should, by still remaining here,
Incur the guilt of perjury?

Did.
O no:
Thus would thy offspring lose in future times
The world's great empire.—Go, pursue thy fortune;
Go—seek the Italian realms—to winds and waves
Intrust thy hopes—but know that righteous Heaven
Shall make those waves my ministers of vengeance.
Then shalt thou late repent thy fond belief
In raging elements—then shalt thou call,
But call in vain on Dido.

Æn.
Could'st thou read
My secret thoughts—

Did.
Away and leave me, traitor!

Æn.
At least, with gentler aspect, from my lips
Receive the last farewell.

Did.
Leave me, ingrate!

Æn.
And yet my wretched fate, alas! deserves not
From Dido such reproaches.

Did.
Hence, thou false-one!
Have I not cause to accuse my fate?
To mourn a heart by thee, ingrate!
With every grief opprest?
Perfidious man! for love so true,
Thou know'st if such reward was due:
Ye souls! like me unblest!
Ah! say, what pangs can mortals know,
If what I feel bespeaks not woe
That deepest rends the breast.

[Exit attended.

SCENE XIX.

Æneas
alone.
And shall I make thee then such base return,
For truth like thine? Such love, such gifts unequall'd?
No—ere my heart consents to leave thee thus,
First perish Italy and all the world!
Let blank oblivion hide my fame for ever,
And Troy once more be sunk in smouldering ashes!
—Alas! what have I said!—O mighty father!
Forgive the ravings of a lover's folly—
'Twas not Æneas spoke—O death to glory!—
Haste, let us go—Must then the insulting Moor
Infold her beauties in his arms?—O! never!—
But shall the son meantime forgetting all
His filial ties be perjur'd to his sire?
O! give me counsel, Gods! In this extreme,
Love, jealousy, a father's angry shade,
And Heaven's high mandates rend my warring soul.

[Exit.