University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

Enter Hephestion, Lysimachus fighting, Clytus parting them.
Cly.
What, are you Mad-men! ha—Put up I say
Then, mischief in the bosoms of ye 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 frown'd, and smil'd, and foil'd 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 not scorn me;
Kill me, or let me fight with him again.

Lys.
There, take thy Sword; and since thou art resolv'd
For death, thou hast the noblest from my hand.

Cly.
Stay thee Lysimachus, Hephestion, hold;
I bar you both, my Body interpos'd.
Now let me see which of you dares to strike;
By Jove ye've stirr'd 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 Cupids puff, is it not Woman's breath?
By all our triumphs in the heat of Youth,
When Towns were sack'd, and Beauties prostrate lay,
When my Blood boil'd, and Nature work'd me high,
Clytus ne're bow'd his body to such shame:
The brave will scorn their Cobweb Arts—The Souls
Of all that whining, smiling, coz'ning Sex
Weigh not one thought of any Man of War.

Lys.
I must confess our vengeance was ill-tim'd.

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 famous day!

Heph.
I was to blame.

Cly.
This memorable day
When our hot Master, that wou'd tire the World,
Outride the lab'ring Sun, and tread the Stars
When he inclin'd to rest, comes peaceful on,
Listning to Songs; while all his Trumpets sleep,
And plays with Monarchs whom he us'd to drive;
Shall we begin disorders, make new broils?
We that have temper learnt, shall we awake
Hush'd 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 urg'd.

Heph.
Why is it then we love?

Cly.
Because unmann'd.—
Why is not Alexander grown Example?
O that a Face should thus bewitch a Soul,
And ruine all that's right and reasonable.
Talk be my bane, yet the Old Man must talk,
Not so he lov'd when he at Issus fought;
And join'd in mighty Duel great Darius,
Whom from his Chariot flaming all with Gems
He hurl'd to Earth and crush'd th' imperial Crown,
Nor cou'd the Gods defend their Images
Which with the gawdy Coach lay overturn'd:
'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 do's 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 you not love my Father? Yes, I see
You did, his very name but mention'd brings
The Tears howe're unwilling to your Eeys.
I lov'd him too, he would not thus have forc'd
My trembling heart, which your Commands may break,
But never bend.

Sys.
Forbear thy lost complaints,
Urge not a suit which I can never grant.
Behold the Royal Signet of the King;
Therefore resolve to be Hephestion's Wife.

Par.
No, since Lysimachus has won my heart,
My body shall be Ashes, e're anothers.

Sys.
For sixty rowling years who ever stood
The shock of State so unconcern'd as I?
This whom I thought to Govern being young,
Heav'n, as a Plague to Power, has render'd strong;
Judge my distresses, and my temper prize;
Who, though unfortunate, wou'd still be wise.

Lys.
To let you know that misery do's 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 permission,
Disdain not me who ask your Royal leave
To cast a throbbing heart before her feet.

Heph.
A blessing like possession of the Princess,
No Services, not Crowns, nor all the Blood
That circles in our Bodies can deserve,
Therefore I take all helps, much more the Kings;
And what your Majesty vouchsaf'd 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 Wooe,
Wou'd lose him all the Conquest he has won.

Lys.
Let not a Conquest once be nam'd by you,
Who this Dispute must to my mercy own.

Sys.
Rise brave Lysimachus, Hephestion rise,
'Tis true Hephestion first declar'd his love;
And 'tis as true I promis'd him my aid!
Your glorious King turn'd mighty Advocate,
How noble therefore were the Victory,
If we could vanquish this disordered Love?

Heph.
'Twill never be.

Lys.
No, I will yet love on,
And hear from Alexander's Mouth, in what
Hephestion merits more than I.

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. 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 horrour comes
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 wou'd avoid him,
There's something in that busie Face of his
That shocks my Nature.

Heph.
Where and what you please.

[Exeunt.
Enter Cassander.
Cass.
The Morning rises black, the lowring 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 fear'd 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 cou'd wish it were,
Which whensoe're it flies at lofty mischief
Wou'd startle Fate, and make all Heav'n concern'd.
A mad Chaldæan in the dead of Night
Came to my Bed-side with a flaming Torch;
And bellowing o're me like a Spirit damn'd,
He cry'd, Well had it been for Babylon
If curs'd Cassander never had been born.

Enter Thessalus, Philip, with Letters.
Thess.
My Lord Cassander!

Cass.
Ha! who's there?

Phil.
Your Friends.

Cass.
Welcome dear Thessalus and Brother Philip,
Papers—with what Contents?

Phil.
From Macedon,
A trusty slave arriv'd—great Antipater
Writes that your Mother labour'd 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,
E're I could blast the growth of this Colossus.

Thess.
The haughty Polyperchon comes this way,
A Male-content, one whom I lately wrought,
That for a slight affront, at Susa giv'n,
Bears Alexander most pernicious hate.

Cass.
So when I mock'd the Persians that ador'd him,
He strook me on the Face, and by the Hair
He swung me to his Guards to be chastis'd;
For which, and for my Fathers weighty Cause,
When I abandon what I have resolv'd,
May I again be beaten like a Slave.
But lo, where Polyperchon comes, now Fire him
[Enter Polyperchon.
With such complaints, that he may shoot to ruine.

Pol.
Sure I have found those Friends dare second 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 swell'd with inglorious wrong,
For a less cause his Father Philip kill?
Peace then full heart! move like a Cloud about,
And when time rip'ns thee to break, O shed
The stock of all thy Poys'n on his head.

Cass.
All Nations bow their heads with homage 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 drown's 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 the Barbarous World
But wind himself a God, you ecchoe him
With Universal cry.

Pol.
I ecchoe him?
I fawn, or fall like a fat Eastern Slave
And lick his feet? Boys hoot me from the Palace
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 sley me, cut me up alive,
Ply me with Fire and Scourges, rack me worse
Than once he did Philotas, e're I bow.

Cass.
Curse on thy Tongue for mentioning Philotas,
I had rather thou hadst Aristander been;
And to my Souls confusion rais'd up Hell
With all the Furies brooding upon horrours,
Than brought Philotas's Murder to remembrance.

Phil.
I saw him rack'd, a sight so dismal sad
My Eyes did ne're 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 forth,
Bloody Craterus his inveterate Foe,
With pitiless Hephestion standing by:
Philotas like an Angel seiz'd by Fiends
Is straight disrob'd, 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 sled
I dare pronounce young Alexander, who
Wou'd 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 Souldier burn,
Yet without trembling, or a tear endure
The torments of the damn'd? O Barbarians,
Cou'd you stand by, and yet refuse to suffer?
Ye saw him bruis'd, torn, to the Bones made bare;
His Veins wide lanced, and the poor quivering Flesh
With Pincers from his manly Bosome ript,
'Till ye discover'd the great Heart lie panting.

Pol.
Why kill'd we not the King to save Philotas?

Cass.
Asses! Fools! but Asses will bray, and Fools be angry,
Why stood ye then like Statues? there's the case,
The horrour of the sight had turn'd ye Marble.
So the pale Trojans from their weeping Walls
Saw the dear body of the God-like Hector
Bloody and soil'd, dragg'd on the famous ground,
Yet senseless stood, nor with drawn Weapons ran
To save the great remains of that prodigious Man.

Phil.
Wretched Philotas! bloody Alexander!

Thess.
Soon after him the great Parmenio fell,
Stabb'd in his Orchard by the Tyrant's doom;
But where's the need to mention publick loss,
When each receives particular disgrace?

Pol.
Late I remember to a Banquet call'd
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
They largely drank, then turning Eastward fell
Flat on the Pavement and ador'd the Sun,
Straight to the King they sacred reverence gave
With solemn words, O Son of Thundring Jove,
Young Ammon live for ever, then kiss'd the ground:
I laugh'd aloud, and scoffing ask'd 'em why
They kiss'd no harder;—but the King leapt up
And spurn'd me to the Earth with this reply;
Do thou,—whilst with his Foot he prest my Neck
'Till from my Ears, my Nose, and Mouth the blood
Gush'd forth, and I lay foaming on the Earth,
For which I wish this Dagger in his heart.

Cass.
There spoke the Spirit of Callisthenes.
Remember he's a Man, his Flesh as soft
And penetrable as a Girls: we have seen him wounded,
A Stone has struck him, yet no Thunderbolt:
A Pebble fell'd this Jupiter along,
A Sword has cut him, a Javelin pierc'd him,
Water will drown him, Fire burn him,
A Surfeit, nay a Fit of Common-sickness
Brings this Immortal to the Gate of Death.

Pol.
Why shou'd we more delay the glorious business,
Are your hearts firm?

Phil.
Hell cannot be more bent
To any ruine, than I to the Kings.

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 Majestick Souls;
Remember Hermolaus, and be hush'd.

Pol.
Still, as the Bosome of the desart Night,
As fatal Planets, or deep plotting Fiends.

Cass.
To day he comes from Babylon to Susa
With proud Roxana.
Ha! who's that,—look here.

Enter the Ghost of King Philip, shaking a Trunchion at 'em, walks over the Stage.
Cass.
Now by the Gods, or Furies which I ne're
Believ'd,—there's one of 'em arriv'd to shake us.
What art thou? glaring thing, speak: what! the Spirit
Of our King Philip, or of Polyphemus?
Nay, hurle thy Trunchion, second it with Thunder,
We will abide.—Thessalus, saw you nothing?

Thess.
Yes, and am more amaz'd 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 yawn'd so wide
That all the labours of the deep were seen,
And Alexander stood on th' other side,
I'd leap the burning Ditch to give him death,
Or sink my self 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
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 cou'd espouse her,
That he wou'd never Bed Roxana more.

Pol.
How did the Persian Queens receive the news
Of his revolt?

Thess.
With grief incredible:
Great Sysigambis wept, but the young Queen
Fell dead amongst her Maids,
Nor cou'd their care,
With richest Cordials, for an hour or more,
Recover Life.

Cass.
Knowing how much she lov'd,
I hop'd to turn her all into Medea;
For when the first gust of her grief was past
I enter'd, and with breath prepar'd did blow
The dying Sparks into a Towring flame,
Describing the new love he bears Roxana,
Conceiving not unlikely that the Line
Of dead Darius in her Cause might rise.
Is any Panthers, Lionesses rage
So furious, any Torrents fall so swift
As a wrong'd Womans hate? Thus far it helps
To give him troubles which perhaps may end him,
And set the Court in universal uproar;
But see it rip'ns more than I expected,
The Scene works up, kill him, or kill thy self;
So there be mischief any way, 'tis well:
Now change the Vizor, every one disperse,
And with a face of friendship meet the King.

[Exeunt.
Enter Sysigambis, Statira, Parisatis, Attendants.
Stat.
Give me a Knife, a draught of Poyson, flames;
Swell heart, break, break thou stubborn thing;
Now, by the sacred Fire, I'll not be held;
Why do you wish me Life yet stifle me
For want of Air? pray give me leave to walk.

Sys.
Is there no reverence to my Person due?
Darius wou'd have heard me, trust not rumour.

Stat.
No, he hates,
He loaths the Beauties which he has enjoy'd,
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 warm'd my Feet with thousand sighs,
Then cool'd 'em with his tears, dy'd on my Knees,
Outwept the Morning with his dewy Eyes,
And groan'd, and swore the wondring Stars away?

Sys.
No, 'tis impossible; believe thy Mother
That knows him well.

Stat.
Away, and let me dye,
O 'tis my fondness, and my easie Nature
That wou'd excuse him; but I know he's false,
'Tis now the common talk, the news o'th' World,
False to Statira, false to her that lov'd him.
That lov'd him, cruel Victor as he was,
And took him bath'd all o're in Persian Blood;
Kiss'd the dear cruel Wounds, and wash'd 'em o're
And o're in Tears,—then bound 'em with my Hair,
Laid him all Night upon my panting Bosome
Lull'd like a Child, and hush'd him with my Songs.

Par.
If this be true, ah, who will ever trust
A Man again?

Stat.
A Man! a 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 lov'd 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 Springs Mouth, nor Breath of Jesamin,
Nor Violets 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;
Curles 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 sigh'd 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 a while, 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 receiv'd since Alexander's Conquest
Can touch my hardn'd Soul, her sorrow reigns
Too fully there.

Par.
But what if she should kill her self?

Stat.
Roxana then enjoys my perjured Love:
Roxana clasps my Monarch in her Arms;
Doats on my Conquerour, my dear Lord, my King,
Devours my Lips, eats him with hungry Kisses:
She grasps him all, she, the curst happy she.
By Heav'n I cannot bear it, 'tis too much;
[Rises.
I'le dye, or rid me of the burning torture.
I will have remedy, I will, I will,
Or go distracted; Madness may throw off
The mighty Load, and drown the flaming Passion.
Madam, draw near, with all that are in presence,
And list'n to the Vow which here I make.

Sys.
Take heed my dear Statira, and consider
What desperate Love enforces you to swear.

Stat.
Pardon me, for I have considered well;
And here I bid adiue to all Mankind.
Farewel ye Cozners of the easie Sex,
And thou the greatest, falsest Alexander;
Farewel thou most belov'd, thou faithless Dear;
If I but mention him, the Tears will fall:
Sure there is not a Letter in his Name,
But is a Charm, to melt a Womans Eyes.

Sys.
Clear up thy griefs; thy King, thy Alexander
Comes on to Babylon.

Stat.
Why let him come,
Joy of all Eyes, but the forlorn Statira's.

Sys.
Wilt thou not see him?

Stat.
By Heav'n, I never will,
That is my Vow, my sacred Resolution;
And when I break it.—

[Kneels.
Sys.
Ah, do not ruine all.

Stat.
May I again be flatter'd and deluded,
May sudden death, and horrid, come instead
Of what I wish, and take me unprepar'd.

Sys.
Still kneel, and with the same Breath call agen
The woful Imprecation thou hast made.

Stat.
No, I will publish it through all the Court,
Then in the Bowers of great Semiramis
For ever lock my woes from human view.

Sys.
Yet be perswaded.

Stat.
Never urge me more,
Lest driv'n 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 Heav'n, what have the guiltless done?
And where shall wretched Parisatis run?

Sys.
Captives in War, our Bodies we resign'd,
But now made free, Love does our Spirits bind.

Stat.
When to my purpos'd loneness I retire,
Your sight I through the Grates shall oft desire,
And after Alexander's health enquire:
And if this Passion cannot be remov'd,
Ask how my Resolution he approv'd?
How much he loves, how much he is belov'd:
Then when I hear that all things please him well,
Thank the good Gods, and hide me in my Cell.

[Exeunt.