Front Page Titles (by Subject) ACT I. - The Works of Christopher Marlowe, vol. 2
ACT I. - Christopher Marlowe, The Works of Christopher Marlowe, vol. 2 
The Works of Christopher Marlowe, ed. A.H. Bullen (London: John C. Nimmo, 1885). Vol. 2.
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Here the curtains draw: there is discoveredJupiterdandlingGanymedeupon his knee, andHermeslying asleep.
- Come, gentle Ganymede, and play with me;
- I love thee well, say Juno what she will.
- I am much better for your worthless love,
- That will not shield me from her shrewish blows!
- To-day, whenas I filled into your cups,
- And held the cloth of pleasance whiles you drank,
- She reached me such a rap for that I spilled,
- As made the blood run down about mine ears.
- What? dares she strike the darling of my thoughts?
- By Saturn's soul, and this earth-threatening hair,
- That, shaken thrice, makes nature's buildings quake,
- I vow, if she but once frown on thee more,
- To hang her, meteor-like, 'twixt heaven and earth,
- And bind her, hand and foot, with golden cords,
- As once I did for harming Hercules!
- Might I but see that pretty sport a-foot,
- O, how would I with Helen's brother laugh,
- And bring the gods to wonder at the game!
- Sweet Jupiter, if e'er I pleased thine eye,
- Or seemèd fair, wall'd-in with eagle's wings,
- Grace my immortal beauty with this boon,
- What is't, sweet wag, I should deny thy youth?
- Whose face reflects such pleasure to mine eyes,
- As I, exhaled with thy fire-darting beams,
- Have oft driven back the horses of the Night,
- Whenas they would have haled thee from my sight.
- Sit on my knee, and call for thy content,
- Control proud Fate, and cut the thread of Time:
- Why, are not all the gods at thy command,
- And heaven and earth the bounds of thy delight?
- Vulcan shall dance to make thee laughing-sport,
- And my nine daughters sing when thou art sad;
- From Juno's bird I'll pluck her spotted pride,
- To make thee fans wherewith to cool thy face;
- And Venus' swans shall shed their silver down,
- To sweeten out the slumbers of thy bed;
- Hermes no more shall show the world his wings,
- If that thy fancy in his feathers dwell,
- But, as this one, I'll tear them all from him,
- [Plucks a feather fromHermes' wings.
- Do thou but say, “their colour pleaseth me.”
- Hold here, my little love; these linkèd gems,
- [Gives jewels.
- My Juno ware upon her marriage-day,
- Put thou about thy neck, my own sweet heart,
- And trick thy arms and shoulders with my theft.
- I would have a jewel for mine ear,
- And a fine brooch to put in[to] my hat,
- And then I'll hug with you an hundred times.
- And shall have, Ganymede, if thou wilt be my love.
- Ay, this is it: you can sit toying there,
- And playing with that female wanton boy,
- Whiles my Æneas wanders on the seas,
- And rests a prey to every billow's pride.
- Juno, false Juno, in her chariot's pomp,
- Drawn through the heavens by steeds of Boreas' brood,
- Made Hebe to direct her airy wheels
- Into the windy country of the clouds;
- Where, finding Æolus entrenched with storms,
- And guarded with a thousand grisly ghosts,
- She humbly did beseech him for our bane,
- And charged him drown my son with all his train.
- Then gan the winds break ope their brazen doors,
- And all Æolia to be up in arms;
- Poor Troy must now be sacked upon the sea,
- And Neptune's waves be envious men of war;
- Epeus' horse, to Ætna's hill transform'd,
- Preparèd stands to wreck their wooden walls;
- And Æolus, like Agamemnon, sounds
- The surges, his fierce soldiers, to the spoil:
- See how the night, Ulysses-like, comes forth,
- And intercepts the day, as Dolon erst!
- Ay me! the stars supprised, like Rhesus' steeds,
- Are drawn by darkness forth Astræus' tents.
- What shall I do to save thee, my sweet boy?
- Whenas the waves do threat our crystal world,
- And Proteus, raising hills of floods on high,
- Intends, ere long, to sport him in the sky.
- False Jupiter, reward'st thou virtue so?
- What, is not piety exempt from woe?
- Then die, Æneas, in thine innocence,
- Since that religion hath no recompense.
- Content thee, Cytherea, in thy care,
- Since thy Æneas' wandering fate is firm,
- Whose weary limbs shall shortly make repose
- In those fair walls I promised him of yore.
- But, first, in blood must his good fortune bud,
- Before he be the lord of Turnus' town,
- Or force her smile that hitherto hath frowned:
- Three winters shall he with the Rutiles war,
- And, in the end, subdue them with his sword;
- And full three summers likewise shall he waste
- In managing those fierce barbarian minds;
- Which once performed, poor Troy, so long suppressed,
- From forth her ashes shall advance her head,
- And flourish once again, that erst was dead.
- But bright Ascanius, beauty's better work,
- Who with the sun divides one radiant shape,
- Shall build his throne amidst those starry towers
- That earth-born Atlas, groaning, underprops:
- No bounds, but heaven, shall bound his empery,
- Whose azured gates, enchasèd with his name,
- Shall make the Morning haste her grey uprise,
- To feed her eyes with his engraven fame.
- Thus, in stout Hector's race, three hundred years
- The Roman sceptre royal shall remain,
- Till that a princess-priest, conceived by Mars,
- Shall yield to dignity a double birth,
- Who will eternish Troy in their attempts.
- How may I credit these thy flattering terms,
- When yet both sea and sands beset their ships,
- And Phœbus, as in Stygian pools, refrains
- To taint his tresses in the Tyrrhene main?
- I will take order for that presently.—
- Hermes, awake! and haste to Neptune's realm,
- Whereas the wind-god, warring now with fate,
- Besiege[s] th' offspring of our kingly loins:
- Charge him from me to turn his stormy powers,
- And fetter them in Vulcan's sturdy brass,
- That durst thus proudly wrong our kinsman's peace.
- Venus, farewell: thy son shall be our care.—
- Come, Ganymede, we must about this gear.
- Disquiet seas, lay down your swelling looks,
- And court Æneas with your calmy cheer,
- Whose beauteous burden well might make you proud,
- Had not the heavens, conceiv'd with hell-born clouds,
- Veil'd his resplendent glory from your view:
- For my sake, pity him, Oceanus,
- That erst-while issu'd from thy watery loins,
- And had my being from thy bubbling froth.
- Triton, I know, hath filled his trump with Troy,
- And therefore will take pity on his toil,
- And call both Thetis and Cymothoe
- To succour him in this extremity.
- Enteræneas, Ascanius, Achates, and others.
- What do I see? my son now come on shore?
- Venus, how art thou compassed with content,
- The while thine eyes attract their sought-for joys!
- Great Jupiter, still honoured mayst thou be
- For this so friendly aid in time of need!
- Here in this bush disguisèd will I stand,
- Whiles my Æneas spends himself in plaints,
- And heaven and earth with his unrest acquaints.
- You sons of care, companions of my course,
- Priam's misfortune follows us by sea,
- And Helen's rape doth haunt us at the heels.
- How many dangers have we overpass'd!
- Both barking Scylla, and the sounding rocks,
- The Cyclops' shelves, and grim Ceraunia's seat,
- Have you o'ergone, and yet remain alive.
- Pluck up your hearts, since Fate still rests our friend,
- And changing heavens may those good days return,
- Which Pergama did vaunt in all her pride.
- Brave prince of Troy, thou only art our god,
- That by thy virtues free'st us from annoy,
- And makes our hopes survive to coming joys:
- Do thou but smile, and cloudy heaven will clear,
- Whose night and day descendeth from thy brows.
- Though we be now in extreme misery,
- And rest the map of weather-beaten woe,
- Yet shall the agèd sun shed forth his hair,
- To make us live unto our former heat,
- And every beast the forest doth send forth
- Father, I faint; good father, give me meat.
- 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.
- See, what strange arts necessity finds out!
- How near, my sweet Æneas, art thou driven!
- 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 drenchèd limbs,
- Whiles I with my Achates rove abroad,
- To know what coast the wind hath driven us on,
- Or whether men or beasts inhabit it.
- [ExeuntAscaniusand others.
- 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.
- 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 clothèd in a spotted leopard's skin?
- 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 shrouds thy beauty in this borrow'd 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 tempests' 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.
- Such honour, stranger, do I not affect:
- It is the use for Tyrian maids to wear
- Their bow and quiver in this modest sort,
- And suit themselves in purple for the nonce,
- That they may trip more lightly o'er the lawnds,
- And overtake the tuskèd 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?
- Of Troy am I, Æneas 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 plough'd the deep,
- And made that way my mother Venus led;
- But of them all scarce seven do anchor safe,
- And they so wrecked and weltered by the waves,
- As every tide tilts 'twixt their oaken sides;
- And all of them, unburdened of their load,
- Are ballassèd with billows' watery 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.
- Fortune hath favour'd 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 perish'd in the storm,
- But are arrivèd safe, not far from hence:
- And so I leave thee to thy fortune's lot,
- Wishing good luck unto thy wandering steps.
- 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.
EnterIarbas, followed byIlioneus, Cloanthus, , Sergestus, and others.
- Follow, ye Trojans, follow this brave lord,
- And plain to him the sum of your distress.
- Why, what are you, or wherefore do you sue?
- Wretches of Troy, envied of the winds,
- That crave such favour at your honour's feet
- As poor distressèd misery may plead:
- Save, save, O, save our ships from cruel fire,
- That do complain the wounds of thousand waves,
- And spare our lives, whom every spite pursues!
- We come not, we, to wrong your Libyan gods,
- Or steal your household Lares from their shrines;
- Our hands are not prepared to lawless spoil,
- Nor armèd to offend in any kind;
- Such force is far from our unweapon'd thoughts
- Whose fading weal, of victory forsook,
- Forbids all hope to harbour near our hearts.
- But tell me, Trojans, Trojans if you be,
- Unto what fruitful quarters were ye bound,
- Before that Boreas buckled with your sails?
- There is a place, Hesperia termed by us,
- An ancient empire, famousèd for arms,
- And fertile in fair Ceres' furrowed wealth,
- Which now we call Italia, of his name
- That in such peace long time did rule the same.
- Thither made we;
- When, suddenly, gloomy Orion rose,
- And led our ships into the shallow sands,
- Whereas the southern wind with brackish breath
- Dispersed them all amongst the wreckful rocks:
- From thence a few of us escaped to land;
- The rest, we fear, are folded in the floods.
- Brave men-at-arms, abandon fruitless fears,
- Since Carthage knows to entertain distress.
- Ay, but the barbarous sort do threat our ships,
- And will not let us lodge upon the sands;
- In multitudes they swarm unto the shore,
- Myself will see they shall not trouble ye:
- Your men and you shall banquet in our court,
- And every Trojan be as welcome here
- As Jupiter to silly Baucis' house.
- Come in with me; I'll bring ye to my queen,
- Thanks, gentle lord, for such unlook'd-for grace:
- Might we but once more see Æneas' face,
- Then would we hope to quite such friendly turns,
- As shall surpass the wonder of our speech.
- ‘A lady wall'd-about with diamonds!’”—Dyce.
- Marte gravis geminam partu dabit Ilia prolem.”
- Virg. Æn. 1. 273–4.
- “Vos et Scyllaeam rabiem penitusque sonantes
- Accestis scopulos, vos et Cyclopia saxa
- Experti. revocate animos, maestumque timorem Mittite.”
- “Thou map of woe that thus dost talk in signs” (l. 12).
- “Thou see'st that Medor and Angelica
- Are still so secret in their private walks,
- As that they trace the shady lawnds.”
- “Quid natum totiens, crudelis tu quoque, falsis
- Ludis imaginibus?”