Part 1 (1/2)

The Tragedy of Dido Queene of Carthage.

by Christopher Marlowe.

Played by the Children of her _Maiesties Chappell._

Written by Christopher Marlowe, and _Thomas Nash. Gent._

Actors

_Iupiter._ _Ascanius._ _Ganimed._ _Dido._ _Venus._ _Anna._ _Cupid._ _Achates._ _Iuno._ _Ilioneus._ _Mercurie._ _Iarbas._ _Hermes._ _Cloanthes._ _aeneas._ _Sergestus._

[Ill.u.s.tration: (Decorative) ”BY PEACE PLENTY, BY WISDOME PEACE”]

AT LONDON,

Printed, by the Widdowe _Orwin_, for _Thomas Woodc.o.c.ke_, and are to be solde at his shop, in Paules Church-yeard, at the signe of the blacke Beare. 1594.

[Ill.u.s.tration: (Decorative)]

The Tragedie of _Dido_ Queene _of Carthage._

_Here the Curtaines draw, there is discovered_ Iupiter _dandling_ Ganimed _upon his knee, and_ Mercury _lying asleepe_.

_Iup._ Come gentle _Ganimed_ and play with me, I loue thee well, say _Iuno_ what she will.

_Gan._ I am much better for your worthles loue, That will not s.h.i.+eld me from her shrewith blowes: To day when as I fild into your cups, And held the cloath of pleasance whiles you dranke, She reacht me such a rap for that I spilde, As made the bloud run downe about mine eares.

_Iup._ What? dares she strike the darling of my thoughts?

By _Saturnes_ soule, and this earth threatning aire, That shaken thrise, makes Natures buildings quake, I vow, if she but once frowne on thee more, To hang her meteor like twixt heauen and earth, And bind her hand and foote with golden cordes, As once I did for harming _Hercules_.

_Gan._ Might I but see that pretie sport a foote, O how would I with _Helens_ brother laugh, And bring the G.o.ds to wonder at the game: Sweet _Iupiter_, if ere I pleasde thine eye, Or seemed faire walde in with Egles wings, Grace my immortall beautie with this boone, And I will spend my time in thy bright armes.

_Iup._ What ist sweet wagge I should deny thy youth?

Whose face reflects such pleasure to mine eyes, As I exhal'd with thy fire darting beames, Haue oft driuen backe the horses of the night.

When as they would haue hal'd thee from my sight: Sit on my knee, and call for thy content, Controule proud Fate, and cut the thred of time, Why are not all the G.o.ds at thy commaund, And heauen and earth the bounds of thy delight?

_Vulcan_ shall daunce to make thee laughing sport, And my nine Daughters sing when thou art sad, From _Iunos_ bird Ile pluck her spotted pride, To make thee fannes wherewith to coole thy face, And _Venus_ Swannes shall shed their siluer downe, To sweeten out the slumbers of thy bed: _Hermes_ no more shall shew the world his wings, If that thy fancie in his feathers dwell, But as this one Ile teare them all from him, Doe thou but say their colour pleaseth me: Hold here my little loue these linked gems, My _Iuno_ ware vpon her marriage day, Put thou about thy necke my owne sweet heart, And tricke thy armes and shoulders with my theft.

_Gan._ I would haue a iewell for mine eare, And a fine brouch to put in my hat, And then Ile hugge with you an hundred times.

_Iup._ And shall haue _Ganimed_, if thou wilt be my loue.

_Enter Venus._

_Venus._ I this is it, you can sit toying there, And playing with that female wanton boy, Whiles my _aeneas_ wanders on the Seas, And rests a pray to euery billowes pride.

_Iuno_, false _Iuno_ in her Chariots pompe, Drawne through the heauens by Steedes of _Boreas_ brood, Made _Hebe_ to direct her ayrie wheeles Into the windie countrie of the clowdes, Where finding _aeolus_ intrencht with stormes, And guarded with a thousand grislie ghosts, She humbly did beseech him for our bane, And charg'd him drowne my sonne with all his traine.

Then gan the windes breake ope their brazen doores, And all _aeolia_ to be vp in armes: Poore _Troy_ must now be sackt vpon the Sea, And _Neptunes_ waues be enuious men of warre, _Epeus_ horse to _aetnas_ hill transformd, Prepared stands to wracke their woodden walles, And _aeolus_ like _Agamemnon_ sounds The surges, his fierce souldiers to the spoyle: See how the night _Ulysses_-like comes forth, And intercepts the day as _Dolon_ erst: Ay me! the Starres supprisde like _Rhesus_ Steedes, Are drawne by darknes forth _Astraeus_ tents.

What shall I doe to saue thee my sweet boy?

When as the waues doe threat our Chrystall world, And _Proteus_ raising hils of flouds on high, Entends ere long to sport him in the skie.