say

Then, mischief's in the bosom of you both.
Lys. I have his sword.

Cly. But must not have his life.

Lys. Must not, old Clytus?

Cly. Mad Lysimachus, you must not.
Heph. Coward flesh! O feeble arm!

He dallied with my point, and when I thrust,
He frowned and smiled, and foiled me like a fencer.
O reverend Clytus, father of the war,
Most famous guard of Alexander's life,
Take pity on my youth, and lend a sword!
Lysimachus is brave, and will but scorn me;
Kill me, or let me fight with him again.

Lys. There, take thy sword, and since thou art
resolved

For death, thou hast the noblest from my hand. Cly. Stay thee, Lysimachus; Hephestion, hold;

I bar you both, my body interposed.

Now let me see, which of you dares to strike! By Jove, ye have stirred the old man; that rash

arm,

That first advances, moves against the gods, Against the wrath of Clytus, and the will Of our great king, whose deputy I stand." Lys. Well, I shall take another time. Heph. And I.

Cly. "Tis false.

Another time, what time? what foolish hour?
No time shall see a brave man do amiss.
And what's the noble cause, that makes this
madness?

What big ambition blows this dangerous fire?
A Cupid's puff, is't not, a woman's breath?
By all your triumphs in the heat of youth,
When towns were sacked, and beauties prostrate
lay,

When my blood boiled, and nature worked me

high,

Clytus ne'er bowed his body to such shame : The brave will scorn the cobweb arts- -The souls

Of all that whining, smiling, cozening sex,
Weigh not one thought of any man of war.

Lys. I confess our vengeance was ill-timed. Cly. Death! I had rather this right arm were lost,

To which I owe my glory, than our king
Should know your fault-what, on this fa-
mous day!

Heph. I was to blame.
Cly. This memorable day,

When our hot master, that would tire the world,
Out-ride the labouring sun, and tread the stars,
When he, inclined to rest, comes peaceful on,
Listening to songs; while all his trumpets sleep,
And plays with monarchs, whom he used to
drive;

Shall we begin disorders, make new broils? We, that have temper learnt, shall we awake Hushed Mars, the lion that had left to roar?

Lys. 'Tis true; old Clytus is an oracle.
Put up, Hephestion- -did not passion blind
My reason, I on such occasion too
Could thus have urged.

Heph. Why is it then we love?
Cly. Because unmanned.

Why, is not Alexander grown example?
O that a face should thus bewitch a soul,
And ruin all that's right and reasonable!
Talk be my bane, yet the old man must talk:
Not so he loved, when he at Issus fought,
And joined in mighty duel great Darius,
Whom from his chariot, flaming all with gems,
He hurled to earth, and crushed the imperial

crown;

Nor could the gods defend their images, Which with the gaudy coach lay overturned: 'Twas not the shaft of love, that did the feat; Cupid had nothing there to do; but now Two wives he takes, two rival queens disturb The court; and while each hand does beauty hold,

Where is there room for glory?

Heph. In his heart.

Cly. Well said;

You are his favourite, and I had forgot

Who I was talking to. See Sysigambis comes,
Reading a letter to your princess; go,
Now make your claim, while I attend the king.
[Exit.

Enter SYSIGAMBIS, PARISATIS.

Par. Did not you love my father? Yes, I see You did; his very name but mentioned brings The tears, howe'er unwilling, to your eyes. I loved him too; he would not thus have forced My trembling heart, which your commands may break,

strong;

Judge my distresses, and my temper prize,
Who, though unfortunate, would still be wise.
Lys. To let you know, that misery doth sway
[Both kneel.
An humbler fate than yours, see at your feet
The lost Lysimachus: O mighty queen,
I have but this to beg,-impartial stand,
And, since Hephestion serves by your permis-
sion,

Disdain not me, who ask your royal leave
To cast a throbbing heart before her feet.
Heph. A blessing, like possession of the prin-

That circles in our bodies, can deserve: Therefore I take all helps, much more the king's, And what your majesty vouchsafed to give; Your word is past, where all my hopes must hang.

Lys. There perish too-all words want sense in love;

But love and I bring such a perfect passion,
So nobly pure, 'tis worthy of her eyes,
Which, without blushing, she may justly prize.

Heph. Such arrogance, should Alexander woo, Would lose him all the conquests he has won. Lys. Let not a conquest once be named by

Sys. I grieve,

And fear the boldness, which your love inspires; But lest her sight should haste your enterprize, "Tis just I take the object from your eyes.

[Exeunt SYS. and PAR. Lys. She's gone, and see, the day, as if her look

Had kindled it, is lost, now she is vanished. Heph. A sudden gloominess and horror come About me.

Lys. Let's away to meet the king; You know my suit.

Heph. Yonder Cassander comes,

He may inform us.

Lys. No, I would avoid him;

There's something in that busy face of his,
That shocks my nature.

Heph. Where and what you please. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Enter CASSANDER.

Cass. The morning rises black, the lowering

sun,

As if the dreadful business he foreknew,
Drives heavily his sable chariot on;
The face of day now blushes scarlet deep,
As if it feared the stroke which I intend,
Like that of Jupiter.-Lightning and thunder!
The lords above are angry, and talk big,
Or rather walk the mighty cirque like mourners
Clad in long clouds, the robes of thickest night,
And seem to groan for Alexander's fall.
'Tis as Cassander's soul could wish it were,
Which, whensoe'er it flies at lofty mischief,
Would startle fate, and make all heaven con-
cerned.

A mad Chaldean, in the dead of night,
Came to my bed-side with a flaming torch;
And bellowing o'er me, like a spirit damned,

Papers-with what contents? Phil. From Macedon

A trusty slave arrived

-great Antipater

Writes, that your mother laboured with you long,
Your birth was slow, and slow is all your life.
Cass. He writes, dispatch the king—Craterus
comes,

Who in my room must govern Macedon;
Let him not live a day he dies to-night;
And thus my father but forestalls my purpose:
Why am I slow then? If I rode on thunder,
I must a moment have to fall from heaven,
Ere I could blast the growth of this Colossus.
Thess. The haughty Polyperchon comes this
way;

A mal-content, on whom I lately wrought,
That for a slight affront, at Susa given,
Bears Alexander most pernicious hate.

Cass. So, when I mocked the Persians, that adored him,

He struck me in the face, and by the hair
He swung me to his guards to be chastised ;
For which and for my father's weighty cause,
When I abandon what I have resolved,
May I again be beaten like a slave!

But lo, where Polyperchon comes: now fire him
With such complaints, that he may shoot to ruin.

Enter POLYPERCHON.

Pol. Sure I have found those friends, dare se-
cond me;

I hear fresh murmurs as I pass along:
Yet, rather than put up, I'll do't alone.
Did not Pausanias, a youth, a stripling,
A beardless boy, swelled with inglorious wrong,
For a less cause his father Philip kill?
Peace then, full heart! move like a cloud about,
And when time ripens thee to break, O shed
The stock of all thy poison on his head!

Cass. All nations bow their heads with ho-
mage down,

And kiss the feet of this exalted man:
The name, the shout, the blast from every mouth,
Is Alexander: Alexander bursts

Your cheeks, and with a crack so loud

It drowns the voice of Heaven; like dogs ye fawn,

The earth's commanders fawn, and follow him;
Mankind starts up to hear his blasphemy:
And if this hunter of this barbarous world
But wind himself a God, you echo him
With universal cry.

Pol. I echo him?

I fawn, or fall, like a far eastern slave,

To haunt some cloister with my senseless walk,
When thus the noble soul of Polyperchon
Lets go the aim of all his actions, honour.

Thess. The king shall slay me, cut me up alive, Ply me with fire and scourges, rack me worse Than once he did Philotas, e'er I bow.

Cass. Curse on thy tongue for mentioning
Philotas!

I had rather thou hadst Aristander been,
And to my soul's confusion raised up hell,
With all the furies brooding upon horrors,
Than brought Philotas' murder to remembrance.
Phil. I saw him racked, a sight so dismal sad
My eyes did ne'er behold.

Cass. So dismal? peace!

It is unutterable: let me stand,

And think upon the tragedy you saw;

By Mars it comes! ay! now the rack's set for
Bloody Craterus, his inveterate foe,
With pitiless Hephestion standing by:
Philotas, like an angel seized by fiends,
Is straight disrobed, a napkin ties his head,
His warlike arms with shameful cords are bound,
And every slave can now the valiant wound.

Pol. Now, by the soul of royal Philip fled,
I dare pronounce young Alexander, who
Would be a god, is cruel as a devil.

Cass. Oh, Polyperchon, Philip, Thessalus, Did not your eyes rain blood, your spirits burst, To see your noble fellow-soldier burn, Yet without trembling, or a tear, endure The torments of the damned? O barbarians, Could you stand by, and yet refuse to suffer? Ye saw him bruised, torn, to the bones made bare;

His veins wide lanced, and the poor quivering flesh

With pincers from his manly bosom ript,
Till ye discovered the great heart lie panting.
Pol. Why killed we not the king, to save Phi-
lotas?

Cass. Asses! fools! but asses will bray, and
fools be angry.

Why stood ye then like statues? there's the

Phil. Wretched Philotas! bloody Alexander! Thess. Soon after him the great Parmenio fell, Stabbed in his orchard by the tyrant's doom. But where's the need to mention public loss, When each receives particular disgrace?

Pol. Late I remember, to a banquet called, After Alcides' goblet swift had gone The giddy round, and wine had made me bold, Stirring the spirits up to talk with kings, I saw Craterus with Hephestion enter In Persian robes; to Alexander's health

lace,

VOL. I.

Flat on the pavement, and adored the sun.

T

Straight to the king they sacred reverence gave, With solemn words, O son of thundering Jove, Young Ammon, live for ever! then kissed the ground.

I laughed aloud, and scoffing, asked them why They kissed no harder;-but the king leapt up, And spurned me to the earth, with this reply:Do thou !'—whilst with his foot he prest my neck,

The Indies, kept him revelling at Susa;
But as I found, a deep repentance since
Turns his affections to the queen Statira,
To whom he swore (before he could espouse her)
That he would never bed Roxana more.
Pol. How did the Persian queen receive the

news

Of his revolt!

Thess. With grief incredible:

Great Sysigambis wept, but the young queen Fell dead among her maids;

Are your hearts firm?

Phil. Hell cannot be more bent To any ruin, than I to the king's. Thess. And I.

Pol. Behold my hand; and if you doubt my truth,

Tear up my breast, and lay my heart upon it. Cass. Join then, O worthy, hearty, noble hands,

Fit instruments for such majestic souls!
Remember Hermolaus, and be hushed.

Pol. Still as the bosom of the desert night,
As fatal planets, or deep-plotting fiends.
Cass. To-day he comes from Babylon to Susa,
With proud Roxana.

Ah! who's that?-look there!

Enter the Ghost of King PHILIP, shaking a truncheon at them, walks over the Stage. Cass. Now by the gods, or furies, which I ne'er Believed, there's one of them arrived to shake us.

What art thou? glaring thing, speak! What, the spirit

Of our king Philip, or of Polyphemus?
Nay hurl thy truncheon, second it with thunder
We will abideThessalus, saw you nothing?
Thess. Yes, and am more amazed than you
can be,

Phil. "Tis said, that many prodigies were seen This morn, but none so horrible as this.

Pol. What! can you fear? though the earth
yawned so wide,

That all the labours of the deep were seen,
And Alexander stood on the other side,
I'd leap the burning ditch to give him death,
Or sink myself for ever: Pray, to the business.
Cass. As I was saying, this Roxana, whom,
To aggravate my hate to him, I love,
Meeting him as he came triumphant from

With richest cordials, for an hour or more,
Recover life.

Cass. Knowing how much she loved,
I hoped to turn her all into Medea;
For, when the first gust of her grief was past,
I entered, and with breath prepared did blow
The dying sparks into a towering flame,
Describing the new love he bears Roxana,
Conceiving, not unlikely, that the line
Of dead Darius in her cause might rise.
Is any panther's, lioness's rage

So furious, any torrent's falls so swift,
As a wronged woman's hate? Thus far it helps
To give him troubles; which perhaps may end
him,

And set the court in universal uproar.
But see! it ripens more than I expected:
The scene works up; kill him, or kill thyself;
So there be mischief any way, 'tis well;
Now change the vizor, every one disperse,
And with a face of friendship meet the king.

SCENE III.

[Exeunt.

Enter SYSIGAMBIS, STATIRA, Parisatis, Attendants.

Stat. Give me a knife, a draught of poison, flames!

Swell heart, break, break, thou stubborn thing!
Now, by the sacred fire, I'll not be held;
Why do ye wish my life, yet stifle me
For want of air? pray give me leave to walk.

Sys. Is there no reverence to my person due? Darius would have heard me; trust not rumour. Stat. No, he hates,

He loaths the beauties, which he has enjoyed.
O, he is false, that great, that glorious man
Is tyrant midst of his triumphant spoils,
Is bravely false, to all the gods forsworn:
Yet, who would think it! no, it cannot be,
It cannot What, that dear protesting man!
He, that has warmed my feet with thousand
sighs,

Then cooled them with his tears, died on my knees,

Outwept the morning with his dewy eyes,
And groaned and swore the wandering stars away!
Sys. No, 'tis impossible, believe thy mother,
That knows him well.

Stat. Away, and let me die :

O'tis my fondness, and my easy nature,
That would excuse him; but I know he's false,

LEE.]

world,

False to Statira, false to her that loved him;
That loved him, cruel victor as he was,
And took him, bathed all o'er in Persian blood;
Kissed the dear cruel wounds, and washed them
o'er

And o'er in tears—then bound them with my hair,

Laid him all night upon my panting bosom,
Lulled like a child, and hushed him with my songs.
Par. If this be true, ah, who will ever trust
A man again!

Stat. A man! à man! my Parisatis;

Thus with thy hand held up, thus let me swear

thee

By the eternal body of the sun,
Whose body, O forgive the blasphemy,
I loved not half so well as the least part
Of my dear precious faithless Alexander;
For I will tell thee, and to warn thee of him,
Not the spring's mouth, nor breath of jessamin,
Nor violet's infant-sweets, nor opening buds,
Are half so sweet as Alexander's breast;
From every pore of him a perfume falls,
He kisses softer than a southern wind,
Curls like a vine, and touches like a god.

Sys. When will thy spirits rest, these transports
cease ?

Stat. Will you not give me leave to warn my
sister?

As I was saying-but I told his sweetness;
Then he will talk-good gods, how he will talk!
Even when the joy he sighed for is possest,
He speaks the kindest words, and looks such
things,

Vows with such passion, swears with so much grace,

That 'tis a kind of heaven to be deluded by him. Par. But what was it, that you would have

me swear?

Stat. Alas, I had forgot! let me walk by And weep awhile, and I shall soon remember.

Sys. Have.patience, child, and give her liberty; Passions, like seas, will have their ebbs and flows: Yet, while I see her thus, not all the losses We have received, since Alexander's conquest, Can touch my hardened soul; her sorrow reigns Too fully there.

Par. But what if she should kill herself? Stat. Roxana then enjoys my perjured love, Roxana clasps my monarch in her arms: Doats on my conqueror, my dear lord, my king, Devours his lips, eats him with hungry kisses: She grasps him all, she, the curst happy she! By heaven I cannot bear it, 'tis too much; I'll die, or rid me of the burning torture.

sion.

eyes.

Sys. Clear up thy griefs; thy king, thy Alexander,

Sys. Yet be persuaded.

Stat. Never urge me more,
Lest, driven to rage, I should my life abhor,
And in your presence put an end to all
The fast calamities, that round me fall.

Par. O angry heaven! what have the guiltless
done!

And where shall wretched Parisatis run!

Sys. Captives in war, our bodies we resigned; But now made free, love does our spirits bind.

Stat. When to my purposed loneness I retire, Your sight I through the grates shall oft desire, And after Alexander's health enquire. And if this passion cannot be removed, Ask how my resolution he approved, How much he loves, how much he is beloved? Then, when I hear that all things please him well,

Thank the good gods, and hide me in my cell. [Exeunt