University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

Noise of Trumpets sounding far off.
The Scene draws, and discovers a Battel of Crows, or Ravens, in the Air; an Eagle and a Dragon meet and fight; the Eagle drops down with all the rest of the Birds, and the Dragon flies away. Souldiers walk off, shaking their Heads. The Conspirators come forward.
Cass.
He comes, the fatal glory of the World,
The headlong Alexander, with a Guard
Of thronging Crowns comes on to Babylon,
Though warn'd, in spight of all the Pow'rs above,
Who by these Prodigies foretell his ruine.

Pol.
Why all this noise, because a King must dye?
Or do's Heav'n fear because he sway'd the Earth,
His Ghost will war with the high Thunderer?
Curse on the babling Fates that cannot see
A Great Man tumble, but they must be talking.

Cass.
The Spirit of King Philip, in those Arms
We saw him wear, pass'd groaning through the Court,
His dreadful Eye-balls rowl'd their horrour upwards;
He wav'd his Arms, and shook his wondrous Head.
I've heard that at the crowing of the Cock
Lions will roar, and Goblings steal away;
But this Majestick Air stalks stedfast on
Spight of the Morn that calls him from the East,
Nor minds the op'ning of the Iv'ry Door.

Phil.
'Tis certain there was never Day like this.

Cass.
Late as I musing walk't behind the Palace
I met a monstrous Child, that with his Hands
Held to his Face, which seem'd all over Eyes,
A Silver Bowle, and wept it full of Blood.
But having spy'd me, like a Cockatrice,
He glar'd a while; then with a shriek so shrill
As all the Winds had whistled from his Mouth,
He dash'd me with the Gore he held, and vanished.

Pol.
That which befell me, though 'twas horrid, yet
When I consider it appears ridiculous;
For, as I pass'd through a by vacant place,
I met two Women very old and ugly,
That wrung their Hands, and howl'd, and beat their Breasts
And cry'd out Poyson: when I askt the cause,
They took me by the Ears; and with strange force
Held me to Earth, then laugh'd and disappear'd.

Cass.
O how I love destruction with a Method
Which none discern, but those that weave the Plot:
Like Silk-worms we are hid in our own Weft,
But we shall burst at last through all the strings;
And when time calls, come forth in a new Form:
Not Insects, to be trod, but Dragons wing'd.

Thess.
The Face of all the Court is strangely alter'd:
There's not a Persian I can meet but stares
As if he were distracted. Oxyartes
Statira's Unckle openly declaim'd
Against the Perjury of Alexander.

Phil.
Others, more fearful, are remov'd to Susa,
Dreading Roxana's rage, who comes i'th' Rear
To Babylon.

Cass.
It glads my rising Soul
That we shall see him Rack'd before he dies:
I know he loves Statira more than Life,
And on a Crowd of Kings in Triumph born
Comes, big with expectation, to enjoy her.
But when he hears the Oaths which she has ta'ne,
Her last adieu made publick to the World,
Her vow'd divorce, how will remorse consume him?
Prey, like the Bird of Hell, upon his Liver?

Pol.
To bawk his Longing, and delude his Lust,
Is more than Death, 'tis Earnest for Damnation.

Cass.
Then comes Roxana, who must help our Party;
I know her jealous, bloody, and ambitious.
Sure 'twas the likeness of her Heart to mine,
And Sympathy of Natures caus'd me love her:
'Tis fixt, I must enjoy her, and no way
So proper as to make her guilty first.

Pol.
To see two Rival Queens of different humours,
With a variety of Torments vex him.

[Enter Lysima, Hephest.
Cass.
Of that anon; but see Lysimachus
And the young Favourite; sort, sort your selves,
And like to other Mercenary Souls
Adore this Mortal God, that soon must bleed.

Lys.
Here I will wait the King's approach, and stand
His utmost anger if he do me wrong.

Heph.
That cannot be, from Power so absolute
And high as his.

Lys.
Well, you and I have done.

Pol.
How the Court thickens!

[Trumpets sound.
Cass.
Nothing to what it will,—Does he not come
To hear a thousand thousand Embassies,
Which, from all Parts, to Babylon are brought,
As if the Parliament of the whole World
Had met; and he came on a God, to give
The infinite Assembly glorious audience.

Enter Clytus, Aristander in his Robes, with a Wand.
Arist.
Haste Reverend Clytus, haste, and stop the King.

Clyt.
He is already entred: then the Press
Of Princes that attend so thick about him
Keep all that wou'd approach at certain distance.

Arist.
Though he were hem'd with Deities I'de speak to him,
And turn him back from this Highway to Death.

Clyt.
Here place your self, within his Trumpets sound.
Lo, the Caldean Priests appear, behold
The sacred Fire, Nearchus and Eumenes
With their white Wands, and drest in Eastern Robes,
To sooth the King, who loves the Persian mode:
But see the Master of the World appears.

Enter Alexander, all kneel but Clytus.
Heph.
O Son of Jupiter live for ever.

Alex.
Rise all, and thou my second self, my Love;
O my Hephestion, raise thee from the Earth
Up to my Breast, and hide thee in my Heart,
Art thou grown cold? why hang thine Arms at distance?
Hugg me, or else by Heaven thou lov'st me not.

Heph.
Not Love, my Lord? break not the Heart you fram'd
And moulded up to such an Excellence;
Then stamp'd on it your own Immortal Image.
Not love the King? Such is not Womans love,
So fond a friendship, such a sacred flame,
As I must doubt to find in Breasts above.

Alex.
Thou dost, thou lov'st me, Crown of all my Wars,
Thou dearer to me than my Groves of Lawrel,
I know thou lov'st thy Alexander more
Than Clytus does the King: no Tears Hephestion,
I read thy Passion in thy Manly Eyes;
And glory in those Planets of my Life
Above the Rival Lights that shine in Heaven.

Lys.
I see that Death must wait me, yet I'le on.

Alex.
I'le tell thee Friend, and mark it all ye Princes,
Though never mortal Man arriv'd to such
A height as I, yet I wou'd forfeit all;
Cast all my Purples, and my conquer'd Crowns,
And dye to save this Darling of my Soul.
Give me thy Hand, share all my Scepters while
I live; and when my hour of Fate is come,
I leave thee, what thou meritest more than I, the World.

Lys.
Dread Sir, I cast me at your Royal Feet.

Alex.
What, my Lysimachus, whose Veins are rich
With our illustrious Blood? my Kinsman, rise;
Is not that Clytus?

Clyt.
Your old faithful Souldier.

Alex.
Come to my hands, thus double Arm the King;
And now methinks I stand like the dread God,
Who while his Priests and I quaff'd sacred Blood,
Acknowledg'd me his Son. My Lightning thou;
And thou my mighty Thunder,—I have seen
Thy glittering Sword out-fly Celestial Fire:
And when I cry'd Be gone, and execute,
I've seen him run swifter than starting Hinds,
Nor bent the tender Grass beneath his Feet:
Swifter than Shadows fleeting o're the Fields,
Nay, even the Winds, with all their stock of Wings,
Have puff'd behind, as wanting Breath to reach him.

Lys.
But if your Majesty.—

Clyt.
Who would not lose
The last dear drop of Blood, for such a King?

Alex.
Witness my elder Brothers of the Skie,
How much I love a Souldier.—O my Clytus,
Was it not when we pass'd the Granicus
Thou didst preserve me from unequal force?
It was when Spithridates, and Rhesaces,
Fell both upon me, with two dreadful stroaks,
And clove my temper'd Helmet quite in sunder;
Then I remember, then thou didst me service:
I think my Thunder split him to the Navel.

Clyt.
To your great self you owe that Victory,
And sure your Arms did never gain a nobler.

Alex.
By Heaven they never did, for well thou knowest,
And I am prouder to have pass'd that Stream,
Than that I drove a Million o're the Plain.
Can none remember? Yes, I know all must,
When glory, like the dazling Eagle, stood
Perch'd on my Bever in the Granick Flood.
When Fortun's self my Standard trembling bore,
And the pale Fates stood frighted on the Shore,
When the Immortals on the Billows rode,
And I my self appear'd the leading God.

Arist.
But all the honours which your Youth has won
Are lost, unless you fly from Babylon:
Haste with your Chiefs, to Susa take your way,
Fly for your life, destructive is your stay.
This Morning having view'd the angry Skie,
And mark'd the Prodigies that threatn'd high,
To our bright God I did for succour fly;
But, Oh.

Alex.
What fears thy Reverend Bosome shake?
Or dost thou from some Dream of horrour wake?
If so, come grasp me with thy shaking Hand,
Or fall behind while I the danger stand.

Arist.
To Orosmades Cave I did repair
Where I atton'd the dreadful God with Prayer:
But as I pray'd I heard long groans within,
And shrieks, as of the damn'd that howl for Sin:
I knew the Omen, and I fear'd to stay,
But prostrate on the trembling Pavement lay;
When he bodes happiness, he answers mild,
'Twas so of old, and the great Image smil'd;
But now in abrupt Thunder he reply'd
Lowd as rent Rocks, or roaring Seas, he cry'd,
All Empires Crown, Glory of Babylon,
Whose Head stands wrapt in Clouds, must tumble down.

Alex.
If Babylon must fall, what is't to me?
Or can I help immutable Decree?
Down then vast Frame with all thy lofty Towers,
Since 'tis so order'd by Almighty Powers;
Press'd by the Fates, unloose your golden Bars,
'Tis great to fall the envy of the Stars.

Enter Perdiccas, Meleager.
Mele.
O horrrour!

Perd.
Dire Portents!

Alex.
Out with 'em then,
What are you Ghosts, ye empty shapes of Men?
If so, the Mysteries of Hell unfold,
Be all the Scrowls of Destiny unrowl'd?
Open the brazen Leaves, and let it come;
Point with a Thunder-bolt your Monarchs doom.

Perd.
As Meleager, and my self in Field,
Your Persian Horse about the Army wheel'd:
We heard a noise, as of a rushing Wind,
And a thick Storm the Eye of Day did blind:
A croaking noise resounded through the Air,
We look'd, and saw big Ravens battling there:
Each Bird of Night appear'd himself a Cloud,
They met, and fought, and their Wounds rain'd black Blood.

Mele.
All, as for honour, did their Lives expose;
Their Talons clash'd, and Beaks gave mighty blows,
Whilst dreadful sounds did our scar'd sense assail,
As of small Thunder, or huge Scythian Hail.

Perd.
Our Augurs shook, when with a horrid groan,
We thought that all the Clouds had tumbl'd down.
Souldiers, and Chiefs, who can the wonder tell,
Strook to the ground, promiscuously fell;
While the dark Birds, each pond'rous as a Shield,
For fifty Furlongs hid the fatal Field.

Alex.
Be witness for me, all ye Powers Divine,
If ye be angry, 'tis no fault of mine;
Therefore let Furles face me, with a Band
From Hell, my Virtue shall not make a stand;
Though all the Curtains of the Skie be drawn,
And the Stars wink, young Ammon shall go on;
While my Statira shines, I cannot stray,
Love lifts his Torch to light me on my way,
And her bright Eyes create another Day.

Lys.
E're you remove be pleas'd, dread Sir, to hear
A Prince ally'd to you by Blood.

Alex.
Speak quickly.

Lys.
For all that I have done for you in War,
I beg, the Princess Parisatis.

Alex.
Ha,—
Is not my word already past? Hephestion,
I know he hates thee, but he shall not have her;
We heard of this before.—Lysimachus,
I here command, you nourish no design,
To prejudice my Person in the Man
I love, and will preferr to all the World.

Lys.
I never fail'd to obey your Majesty,
Whilst you commanded what was in my power,
Nor cou'd Hephestion fly more swift to serve,
When you commanded us to storm a Town,
Or fetch a Standard from the Enemy:
But when you charge me not to love the Princess,
I must confess, I disobey you, as
I wou'd the Gods themselves, should they command.

Alex.
You shou'd, brave Sir, hear me, and then be dumb,
When by my order, curst Calisthenes,
Was as a Traitor doom'd to live in torments:
Your pity sped him in despight of me.
Think not I have forgot your insolence;
No, though I pardon'd it, yet if again
Thou dar'st to cross me with another Crime,
The Bolts of Fury shall be doubled on thee.
In the mean time think not of Parisatis;
For if thou dost, by Jupiter Ammon,
By my own Head, and by King Philip's Soul,
I'le not respect that Blood of mine thou shar'st,
But use thee as the vilest Macedonian.

Lys.
I doubted not at first but I shou'd meet
Your indignation, yet my Soul's resolv'd,
And I shall never quit so brave a Prize,
While I can draw a Bow, or lift a Sword.

Alex.
Against my Life, ha? was it so? how now?
'Tis said that I am rash, of hasty humour;
But I appeal to the Immortal Gods,
If ever petty poor Provincial Lord
Had temper like to mine? My Slave, whom I
Cou'd tread to Clay, dares utter bloody threats.

Clyt.
Contain your self, dread Sir, the noble Prince,
I see it in his Countenance, would dye,
To justifie his truth, but love makes many faults.

Lys.
I meant his Minion there should feel my Arm,
Love asks his blood, nor shall he live to laugh
At my destruction.

Alex.
Now be thy own Judge,
I pardon thee for my old Clytus's sake;
But if once more thou mention thy rash Love,
Or dar'st attempt Hephestion's precious Life,
I'le pour such storms of indignation on thee,
Philotas rack, Calisthenes disgrace,
Shall be delight to what thou shalt endure.

Enter Sysigambis, Parisatis.
Heph.
My Lord, the Queen comes to congratulate
Your safe arrival.

Alex.
O thou best of Women,
Source of my joy, blest Parent of my Love.

Sys.
Permit me kneel, and give those adorations
Which from the Persian Family are due:
Have you not rais'd us from our ruines high,
And when no Hand cou'd help, nor any Eye
Behold us with a Tear, your's pittied me.
You, like a God, snatch'd us from sorrow's Gulph,
Fixt us in Thrones above our former state.

Par.
Which, when a Soul forgets, advanc't so nobly,
May it be drown'd in deeper misery.

Alex.
To meet me thus, was generously done;
But still there wants to crown my happiness
Life of my Empire, Treasure of my Soul!
My dear Statira! O that Heavenly Beam,
Warmth of my Brain, and Firer of my Heart;
Had she but shot to see me, had she met me,
By this time I had been amongst the Gods;
If any Ecstasie can make a height,
Or any Rapture hurle us to the Heavens.

Clyt.
Now, who shall dare to tell him the Queens Vow?

Alex.
How fares my Love? ha,—neither answer me!
Ye raise my wonder, Darkness overwhelm me
If Royal Sysigambis does not weep.
Trembling, and horrour, pierce me cold as Ice.
Is she not well? what, none, none answer me?
Or is it worse? Keep down ye rising Sighs;
And murmur in the hollow of my Breast:
Run to my Heart, and gather more sad Wind;
That when the voice of Fate shall call you forth,
Ye may, at one rush, from the Seat of Life,
Blow the Blood out, and burst me like a Bladder.

Heph.
I wou'd relate it, but my courage fails me.

Alex.
If she be dead,—That if's impossible;
And let none here affirm it for his Soul:
For he that dares but think so damn'd a Lye,
I'le have his body straight empal'd before me;
And glut my Eyes upon his bleeding Entrails.

Cass.
How will this Engine of unruly Passion
Roar, when we have ram'd him to the Mouth with Poyson?

Alex.
Why stand you all, as you were rooted here,
Like senseless Trees, while to the stupid Grove
I, like a wounded Lion, groan my griefs,
And none will answer,—what, not my Hephestion?
If thou hast any love for Alexander,
If ever I oblig'd thee by my care
When my quick sight has watch'd thee in the War;
Or if to see thee bleed I sent forth cryes,
And, like a Mother, wash'd thee with my tears.
If this be true, if I deserve thy Love,
Ease me, and tell the cause of my disaster.

Heph.
Your mourning Queen, (which I had told before,
Had you been calm,) has no Disease but Sorrow;
Which was occasion'd first by jealous Pangs:
She heard, (for what can scape a watchful Lover?)
That you at Susa, breaking all your Vows,
Relaps'd, and conquer'd by Roxana's Charms,
Gave up your self devoted to her Arms.

Alex.
I know that subtle Creature in my Riot,
My Reason gone, seduc'd me to her Bed;
But when I wak'd, I shook the Circe off,
Though that Enchantress held me by the Arm,
And wept, and gaz'd with all the force of Love;
Nor griev'd I less for that which I had done,
Than when at Thais suit, enrag'd with Wine,
I set the fam'd Persepolis on Fire.

Heph.
Your Queen Statira took it so to heart,
That, in the Agony of Love, she swore
Never to see your Majesty again;
With dreadful Imprecations she confirm'd
Her Oath, and I much fear that she will keep it.

Alex.
Ha! did she swear? did that sweet Creature swear?
I'le not believe it, no, she is all softness,
All melting, mild, and calm as a rock'd Infant,
Nor can you wake her into cryes; by Heaven,
She is the Child of Love, and she was born in smiles.

Par.
I, and my weeping Mother, heard her swear.

Sys.
And with such fierceness she did aggravate
The foulness of your fault, that I cou'd wish
Your Majesty wou'd blot her from your breast.

Alex.
Blot her? forget her? hurle her from my bosome
For ever, lose the Star that guilds my Life,
Guide of my Days, and Goddess of my Nights!
No, she shall stay with me in spight of Vows,
My soul, and body both are twisted with her:
The God of Love empties his golden Quiver,
Shoots every Grain of her into my heart;
She is all mine, by Heaven I feel her here
Panting, and warm, the dearest, O Statira!

Sys.
Have patience, Son, and trust to Heaven and me;
If my Authority, or the remembrance
Of dead Darius, or her Mothers Soul
Can work upon her, she again is yours.

Alex.
O, Mother help me, help your wounded Son,
And move the Soul of my offended Dear;
But fly, haste, e're the sad Procession's made.
Spend not a thought in a reply.—Be gone,
If you wou'd have me live—and Parisatis,
Hang thou about her Knees, wash 'em with Tears:
Nay haste, the breath of Gods, and eloquence
Of Angels go along with you—O my heart!

[Exeunt Sys. and Par.
Lys.
Now let your Majesty, who feel the Torments,
And sharpest Pangs of Love, encourage mine.

Alex.
Ha.—

Clyt.
Are you a Mad-man? is this a time?

Lys.
Yes, for I see he cannot be unjust to me,
Lest something worse befall himself.

Alex.
Why dost thou tempt me thus, to thy undoing?
Death thou should'st have, were it not courted so:
But know, to thy confusion, that my word,
Like destiny, admits not a reverse;
Therefore, in Chains, thou shalt behold the Nuptials
Of my Hephestion.—Guards take him Prisoner.

Lys.
I shall not easily resign my Sword,
'Till I have dy'd it in my Rivals blood.

[Fight.
Alex.
I charge you, kill him not, take him alive;
The dignity of Kings is now concern'd,
And I will find a way to tame this Beast.

Clyt.
Kneel, for I see the Lightning in his Eyes.

Lys.
I neither hope, nor ask a pard'n of him;
But if he shou'd restore my Sword, I wou'd,
With a new violence, run against my Rival.

Alex.
Sure we, at last, shall conquer this fierce Lion:
Hence from my sight, and bear him to a Dungeon:
Perdiccas give this Lion to a Lion;
None speak for him, fly, stop his Mouth, away.

Clyt.
The King's extremely mov'd.

Eum.
I dare not speak.

Clyt.
This comes of Love, and Women, 'tis all madness;
Yet were I heated now with Wine I shou'd
Be preaching to the King for this rash Fool.

Alex.
Come hither Clytus, and my dear Hephestion;
Lend me your Arms, help, for I'm sick o'th' sudden:
I fear betwixt Statira's cruel Love,
And fond Roxana's Arts, your King will fall.

Clyt.
Better the Persian Race were all undone.

Heph.
Look up, my Lord, and bend not thus your Head,
As you wou'd leave the Empire of the World
Which you with toil have won.

Alex.
Wou'd I had not,
There's no true joy in such unweildy Fortune.
Eternal gazers lasting troubles make,
All find my spots, but few my brightness take.
Stand off, and give me air,—
Why was I born a Prince, proclaim'd a God?
Yet have no liberty to look abroad?
Thus Palaces in prospect barr the Eye,
Which pleas'd, and free, wou'd o're the Cottage fly;
O're flow'ry Lands to the gay distant Skie.
Farewel then Empire, and the Racks of Love;
By all the Gods, I will to wilds remove,
Stretch'd like a Sylvan God on Grass lye down,
And quite forget that e're I wore a Crown.