Father, I faint. Good father, give me meat.
AENEAS. Alas, sweet boy, thou must be still a while,
Till we have fire to dress the meat we killed.
Gentle Achates, reach the tinder box,
That we may make a fire to warm us with
And roast our new found victuals on this shore.
VENUS. See what strange arts necessity finds out.
How near, my sweet Aeneas, art thou driven!
AENEAS. Hold, take this candle and go light a fire.
You shall have leaves and windfall boughs enow,
Near to these woods, to roast your meat withal.
Ascanius, go and dry thy drenched limbs,
While I with my Achates rove abroad,
To know what coast the wind hath driven us on,
Or whether men or beasts inhabit it.
ACHATES. The air is pleasant, and the soil most fit
For cities and society's supports;
Yet much I marvel that I cannot find
No steps of men imprinted in the earth.
VENUS. Now is the time for me to play my part.
Ho, young men! Saw you as you came
Any of all my sisters wandering here,
Having a quiver girded to her side
And clothed in a spotted leopard's skin?
AENEAS. I neither saw nor heard of any such.
But what may I, fair virgin, call your name,
Whose looks set forth no mortal form to view,
Nor speech bewrays aught human in thy birth?
Thou art a goddess that delud'st our eyes
And shroud'st thy beauty in this borrowed shape,
But whether thou the Sun's bright sister be,
Or one of chaste Diana's fellow nymphs,
Live happy in the height of all content,
And lighten our extremes with this one boon,
As to instruct us under what good heaven
We breathe as now, and what this world is called
On which by tempest's fury we are cast.
Tell us, O, tell us, that are ignorant,
And this right hand shall make thy altars crack
With mountain heaps of milk-white sacrifice.
VENUS. Such honour, stranger, do I not affect.
It is the use for Tyrian maids to wear
And suit themselves in purple for the nonce,
That they may trip more lightly o'er the lawns,
And overtake the tusked boar in chase.
But for the land whereof thou dost inquire,
It is the Punic kingdom, rich and strong,
Adjoining on Agenor's stately town,
The kingly seat of southern Libya,
Whereas Sidonian Dido rules as queen.
But what are you that ask of me these things?
Whence may you come, or whither will you go?
AENEAS. Of Troy am I. Aeneas is my name,
Who driven by war from forth my native world,
Put sails to sea to seek out Italy;
And my divine descent from sceptred Jove.
With twice twelve Phrygian ships I ploughed the deep
And made that way my mother Venus led,
But of them all scarce seven do anchor safe,
And they so wracked and weltered by the waves,
As every tide tilts 'twixt their oaken sides.
And all of them, unburdened of their load,
Are ballasted with billows' wat'ry weight.
But hapless I, God wot, poor and unknown,
Do trace these Libyan deserts all despised,
Exiled forth Europe and wide Asia both,
And have not any coverture but heaven.
VENUS. Fortune hath favoured thee, whate'er thou be,
In sending thee unto this courteous coast.
A' God's name, on, and haste thee to the court,
Where Dido will receive ye with her smiles.
And for thy ships, which thou supposest lost,
Not one of them hath perished in the storm,
But are arrived safe not far from hence.
And so I leave thee to thy fortune's lot,
Wishing good luck unto thy wandering steps.
Exit.
AENEAS. Achates, 'tis my mother that is fled;
I know her by the movings of her feet.
Stay, gentle Venus! Fly not from thy son!
Too cruel, why wilt thou forsake me thus,
Or in these shades deceiv'st mine eyes so oft?
Why talk we not together hand in hand,
And tell our griefs in more familiar terms?
But thou art gone and leav'st me here alone
To dull the air with my discoursive moan.