University of Virginia Library

Scene X.—Near the Granicus.

Philotas, Antisthenes.
Phi.
To me alone he spake no word of honour:—
Is that Hephestion's malice, or his own?

Ant.
His own. This king is valued past his worth:
I join'd his march to write his deeds, and note
He deigns to touch no book save blind old Homer.
He nothing says that's sage, like Ptolemy,
Or keen of edge like Craterus. I grant him,
Sagacity supreme in observation:
He sees with more than sight: seeing with him,
Is Act and Thought, not sense.

Phi.
'Twas said of old,
“Philip is but Parmenio:” others cried
In Thrace, “What's Alexander but Philotas!”
Yet this is he that scorns me! All save life
I'd peril for revenge.

Ant.
Nor valour here,
Nor learning meets its guerdon. Yet remember
In scheme or act to place Parmenio first;
He's rooted in the popular mind so deep
No storm can shake him. Be it whisper'd still,
“Parmenio frown'd,” “Parmenio disapproved,”
“Parmenio censured much the young man's rashness:”
When Fortune swerves the king shall bear the brunt:
Parmenio fill his throne.

Phi.
I hear of plots.

Ant.
Hear, heed, and hide; but help not. Wait, and win;
Let others run the risk.

Phi.
You'll meet at supper
Phylax, my leech.