University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

Lysimachus and Hephestion, Boxing.
Enter Clytus, parts 'em
CLYTUS.
Hey Day! What are you Boxing? Ha! give o'er.
Thy Nose, Hephestion, Bleeds.—Come, come, no more.

Lys.
A Rogue, I'll beat his Eyes out; Let me come!
I'll teach him Love.

Cly.
Sir, don't be troublesome.
You've had enough for once.

Lys.
Enough old Clytus!

Cly.
I say Enough! Why sure! Do you think to fright us.

Hep.
O Reverend Clytus! Father of our Frolicks,
Take pity on my Youth, and see fair Play;
Kill me, or let me Box with him again.

Cly.
Stay thee Lysimachus! Hephestion, hold,
I Bar you both, my Body Interpos'd,
Now let me see which of you dares to strike,
For that rash Fist that first is Doubled—

Lys.
Well, I shall find another Time—

Hep.
And I.

Cly.
You Lye.
Another Time! what Time! what School-boy's Hour?
No time shall see a choice Lad do amiss.
What on this famous Day?

Lys.
That's true.

Cly.
This memorable Day!
When our hot Master that would Roast the World,
Out-ride the Lab'ring Sun, and kick about the Stars.
When he inclines to Jest, and Laughs and Plays
With Bayliffs, whom he us'd to Drive; shall We
Like Coxcombs fall together by the Ears?

Lys.
Why faith that's true again.

Heg.
He speaks like an Oracle.

Cly.
Come, come you silly Blockheads, ev'n shake Hands,
Or all shall out—That's well—And now you'r Friends,
Hephestion wash thy Face, and follow Us
To meet the King: Jogg on Lysimachus.

[Exunt.
Enter Cassander, Solus.
Cass.
The Morning rises in the Dark before
'Tis Day; the early Sun as if he knew
The Roads were bad, joggs but a Carriers pace;
Thunder and Lightning.
The Gentlemen above Stairs are Angry,
And seems to Roar for Aleæanders Fall,
A tatter'd Link-Boy in the dead of Night
Threw my Feet Curtains back, and cry'd a Light,
Then like a bellowing Bull he thus went on,
Well! oh Well! had it been for Babylon,
If curst Cassander ne'er had been his Father's Son.

Enter Thessalus and Phillip.
Thes.
Hist! Hist! Cassander, Hist:

Cass.
Who's that!

Phil.
Your Friends.

Cas.
Hah! Thessalus and Phillip, is it you?
Dear Lads weleome! What have we now to do.

Phil.
These Letters by the Post from Macedon
I now receiv'd, which say that Nothing's done.
Your Mother was in Labour long for you,
And you'r as slow in Pains of Mischief too.

Cas.
No, Phillip, no, I never shall forget,
How he at Susa swore he'd have me beat;
And after that when all were in our Cups,
How once his Back-hand sous'd me or'e the Chops;
Which when I e'er put up, and unreveng'd,
May I again be like a Rascal swing'd
When such Affronts as these I tamely bear,
May my last Cravat be of Hempen Wear.

Phil.
Nay, I have been Affronted too—

Thes.
And I.

Cas.
He has Kickt and Thump't us all.

Phil.
Then he must—

Cas.
Dye.

Thes.
Why shou'd we more delay the glorious Deed,
If all your Hearts are firm, let's do't with Speed.
Your Hand.

Phil.
There's mine.

Cass.
And mine.

Thes.
No more.

Cas.
He's Dead.
But hold, I'd like to have forgot a Matter,
Tho' very much it don't concern you neither.
You've heard I guess of his Intreagues of late,
With Proud Roxana, whom to swell my Hate
To Alexander more, I Love—Sir, she
It seems is now inform'd again, that he
Designs Statira's Triumph shall go on,
So follows like a Fury up to Town.
Statira on the other side now tears
And flings, and calls him perjur'd Rogue, and swears—
But see it ripens more, the Scene comes on,
I long to see't: But Business must be done.

Enter Statira, Sysigambis, Parisatis, Women.
Stat.
Give me an Ax, a Cleaver, Draughts of
Brandy, Burn it, swell Heart! choak up!
Crack! crack thou stubborn Thing!
Now, by the sacred Fire, I'll not be held,
Why do you wish me Life, yet stiffle me to Death!
Pray give me leave to Stalk—

Pushes down her Attendants.
Sys.
Is there no more Reverence to my Person due,
Darius wou'd have hear'd me, trust not Rumour:

Sta.
No he Hates,
He Loaths the Beauty which he has Enjoy'd.
Oh! he is False, that Great that Swinging Man,
Is lewdly False, to all his Punks forsworn,
Yet who wou'd think it—Pshaw! it cannot be.
It cannot—what, that dear protesting Wagg,
He that has warm'd my Feet with his cold Sighs,
Then cool'd 'em with his scalding Tears,
Out weep't the Morning with his Rainy Eyes,
And curst and swore the staring Stars away.

Sys.
It cannot be, and therefore 'tis Impossible,
I know his Truth too well.

Stat.
Away and let me die, for as I hope
To Live, I will, oh! 'tis my Fondness, and my
Easy Nature, that wou'd excuse him,
'Tis now the common Talk, the Tattle of the Town,
False to Statira! False to her that Lov'd him!
That lov'd him, Dirty Dear, once as he was,
And took him daub'd all or'e with Persian Blood,
Kiss'd his poor Thumps and Bruses, wash'd 'em o're
And o're like any Thing—Then snatch'd him up,
Laid him all Night in my bare Bosom snug,
Nurs'd like a Child, and Hush'd him with my Lulla-bys.

Par.
If this be true! ah! who wou'd ever trust a Man again:

Stat.
A Man! a Man my Parisatis!
Thus with thy Paws held up, thus let me swear thee,
By the round roasted Body of the Sun,
Whose Body (O bless me from swearing)
I Lov'd not half so well as the least Great Toe
Of my Dear Precious—Rascal, Alexander;
For I will tell thee, and to warn thee of him,
Not the Sinks Mouth, nor Breath of Rockumbote,
Nor the sour smell of Infant Sheets, nor opening Beds,
Nor all the Shops in Covent Garden Market
Are half so Rank, as Alexanders Breast,
From every Pore of him a fume falls forth,
He Kisses softer than a sucking Child,
Curles like a Vine, and Touches!—eh Gud!

Sys.
When will thy Whimses rest?

Stat.
Will you not give me leave to warn my Sister,
As I was saying—but I told thee how he smelt,
Then he will talk! good Gods! how he will talk!
And he will Swear, good lack! how he will swear!

Par.
But what was it you wou'd have me swear?

Stat.
Really I don't know.
Let me but Walk, I'll tell you when I think on't,

Sys.
Have patience Child, and mind not what he says,
Lovers are always in the oddest ways.

Par.
But what if she shou'd hang her self,

Stat.
Roxana Then Enjoys my perjur'd Rogue!
Roxana! hangs my Rascal in her Arms,
Doats on my Lips, Eats him with hungry Kisses,
She Gobbles him up, devours every Inch of him,
I cannot spare it—t'is too much, I'll Die,
I'll Die, or rid me of this burning Torture,
I will have Remedy, I will, I will,
Or, make the Devil to do.
Madam, draw near, for now it comes into my Head,
I'll make a Vow.

Sis.
Take heed and first think better,

Stat.
Diswade me not I'll do't.

Par.
Nay, Statty.

Sys.
Daughter—yet hold.

Stat,
I'll do't as I am a Diving Creature,
And here I bid adieu to all Mankind,
Farewel ye Bilkers of our easy Sex,
And thou the greatest Rascal Alexander!
Farewel thou once belov'd, thou faithless Rogue,
If I but mention him the Tears will trickle down;
Sure, there's not a Letter in his Name,
That is not pick'd out of the Criss-cross-Row.

Sis.
Wilt thou not see him?

Stat.
No, if I do—
That is my Vow, my wicked Resolution,
And when I break it—

Sys.
Nay, dear Daughter—

Stat.
Fierce Thunder split me to the Small Guts down.

Sys.
Still kneel; and yet unswear it all again.

Par.
O Goodness! sure my Sisters Brains are Addle,
And where shall wretched Parisatis Twaddle;

Stat.
When to my bare-Wall'd Garret I retire,
Your Sight I thro' the Window shall desire,
And after Alexanders Tricks Enquire.
And if this Whimsy cannot be remov'd,
Ask how my Resolution he approv'd,
How much he Loves, how little he's belov'd.
Then when I hear from you how all Things goe,
Thank the good Gods and shut my Casement too.