University of Virginia Library

Act V.

Statira is discover'd sleeping in the Bower of Semiramis. The Spirits of Queen Statira her Mother, and Darius, appear standing on each side of her, with Daggers threatning her.
Statira sola.
Stat.
Bless me ye Pow'rs above, and guard my Virtue!
I saw, nor was't a Dream, I saw and heard
My Royal Parents, there I saw 'em stand;
My eyes beheld their precious Images:
I heard their Heav'nly voices; where, O where
Fled you so fast, Dear shades, from my embraces?
You told me this,—This hour should be my last,
And I must bleed;—Away, 'tis all Delusion!
Do not I wait for Alexander's coming?
None but my loving Lord can enter here;
And will he kill me?—hence, phantastick shadows!
And yet methinks he should not stay thus long!
Why do I tremble thus? if I but stir,
The motion of my Robes makes my heart leap.
When will the dear man come, that all my doubts
May vanish in his breast? that I may hold him
Fast as my Tears can make me, hug him close
As my fond Soul can wish, give all my breath
In sighs, and kisses; swoun, dye away with Rapture!
But hark, I hear him:—
(noise within.
Fain I would hide my blushes,
I hear his tread, but dare not go to meet him.

Enter Roxana with Slaves, and a Dagger.
Rox.
At length we have conquer'd this stupendious height,
These flying Groves, whose wonderfull ascent
Leads to the Clouds.

Stat.
Then all the Vision's true,
(retires.
And I must dye, lose my dear Lord for ever:
That, that's the murder.

Rox.
Shut the Brazen Gate,
And make it fast with all the massie Bars:
I know the King will fly to her relief,
But we have time enough:—where is my Rival?
Appear Statira, now no more a Queen,
Roxana calls, where is your Majesty?

Stat.
And what is she who with such Tow'ring pride,
Wou'd awe a Princess that is born above her?

Rox.
I like the Port Imperial Beauty bears,
It shews thou hast a Spirit fit to fall
A Sacrifice to fierce Roxana's wrongs.
Be sudden then, put forth these Royal Breasts,
Where our false Master has so often languish'd,
That I may change their milkie Innocence
To bloud, and die me in a deep Revenge.

Stat.
No, barb'rous woman! though I durst meet death
As boldly as our Lord, with a resolve
At which thy Coward heart wou'd tremble:
Yet I disdain to stand the Fate you offer,
And therefore fearless of thy dreadful threats,
Walk thus regardless by thee.

Rox.
Ha! so stately!
This sure will sink you.

Stat.
No, Roxana, no;
The blow you give will strike me to the Stars,
But sink ny murdress in Eternal ruine.

Rox.
Who told you this?

Stat.
A thousand Spirits tell me:
There's not a God but whispers in my ear,
This death will crown me with Immortal Glory;
To dye so fair, so innocent, so young,
Will make me company for Queens above.

Rox.
Preach on.

Stat.
While you the burden of the Earth,
Fall to the Deep so heavy with thy Guilt,
That Hell it self must groan at thy reception;
While foulest Fiends shun thy society,
And thou shalt walk alone, forsaken Fury.

Rox.
Heav'n witness for me, I would spare thy life,
If any thing but Alexander's Love
Were in debate; come give me back his heart,
And thou shalt live, live Empress of the world.

Stat.
The world is less then Alexander's Love,
Yet cou'd I give it, 'tis not in my power:
This I dare promise, if you spare my life,
Which I disdain to beg, he shall speak kindly.

Rox.
Speak! is that all?

Stat.
Perhaps at my request,
And for a gift so noble as my life,
Bestow a kiss.

Rox.
A kiss! no more?

Stat.
O Gods!
What shall I say to work her to my end?
Fain I would see him:—yes, a little more,
Embrace you, and for ever be your Friend.

Rox.
Oh the provoking word! Your Friend! Thou dy'st:
Your Friend! what must I bring you then together?
Adorn your Bed, and see you softly laid?
By all my pangs, and labours of my Love,
This has thrown off all that was sweet and gentle;
Therefore—

Stat.
Yet hold thy hand advanc'd in air;
I see my death is written in thy eyes,
Therefore wreak all thy lust of Vengeance on me,
Wash in my bloud, and steep thee in my gore;
Feed like a Vulture, tear my bleeding heart.
But O Roxana! that there may appear
A glimpse of Justice for thy Cruelty,
A grain of Goodness, for a mass of Evil,
Give me my Death in Alexander's presence.

Rox.
Not for the Rule of Heav'n:—are you so cunning?
What you wou'd have him mourn you as you fall?
Take your farewell, and taste such healing kisses,
As might call back your Soul? No, thou shalt fall
Now, and when Death has seiz'd thy beauteous limbs,
I'le have thy body thrown into a Well,
Buried beneath a heap of Stones for ever.

Enter a Slave.
Slav.
Madam, the King with all his Captains and his Guards
Are forcing ope' the doors, he threatens thousand deaths
To all that stop his entrance, and I believe
Your Eunuchs will obey him.

Rox.
Then I must haste.

(stabs her.
Stat.
What is the King so near?
And shall I dye so tamely, thus defenceless?
O ye good Gods! will you not help my weakness?

Rox.
They are far off.

(stabbing her.
Stat.
Alas! they are indeed.

Enter Alexander, Cassander, Polipercon, Guards and Attendants.
Alex.
Oh Harpy! thou shalt reign the Queen of Devils.

Rox.
Do, strike, behold my bosom swells to meet thee;
'Tis full of thine, of veins that run ambition,
And I can brave whatever Fate you bring.

Alex.
Call our Physicians, hast, I'le give an Empire
To save her:—Oh my Soul, alas Statira!
These wounds,—Oh Gods, are these my promis'd joys!

Stat.
My cruel Love, my weeping Alexander,
Enter Physicians.
Wou'd I had dy'd before you enter'd here,
For now I ask my heart a hundred questions;
What must I lose my life, my Lord, for ever?

Alex.
Ha! Villains, are they mortal?—what, retire!
Raise your dash'd Spirits from the Earth, and say,
Say she shall live, and I will make you Kings.
Give me this one, this poor, this only life,
And I will pardon you for all the wounds
Which your Arts widen, all Diseases, Deaths,
Which your damn'd Drugs throw through the lingring world.

Rox.
Rend not your temper, see a general silence
Confirms the bloudy pleasure which I sought;
She dyes.—

Alex.
And dar'st thou, Monster, think to scape?

Stat.
My life is on the wing, my Love, my Lord,
Come to my arms, and take the last adieu:
Here let me lie, and languish out my Soul.

Alex.
Answer me, Father, wilt thou take her from me?
What is the black, sad hour at last arriv'd,
That I must never clasp her body more?
Never more bask in her Eyes-shine again,
Nor view the Loves that play'd in those dear beams,
And shot me with a thousand thousand smiles.

Stat.
Farewell, my dear, my life, my most lov'd Lord,
I swear by Orosmades 'tis more pleasure,
More satisfaction that I thus dye yours,
Then to have liv'd anothers:—Grant me one thing.

Alex.
All, all;—but speak, that I may execute
Before I follow thee.

Stat.
Leave not the Earth
Before Heav'n calls you: spare Roxana's life,
'Twas Love of you that caus'd her give me death.
And, O sometimes amidst your Revels think
Of your poor Queen, and e're the chearful Bowl
Salute your lips, crown it with one rich tear,
And I am happy.

(dyes.
Alex.
Close not thy eyes;
Things of Import I have to speak before
Thou tak'st thy Journey:—tell the Gods, I'm coming
To give 'em an account of life and death,
And many other hundred thousand policies,
That much concern the Government of Heav'n.—
O she is gone! the talking Soul is mute!
She's hush'd, no voice, no Musick now is heard!
The Bower of Beauty is more still then Death;
The Roses fade, and the melodious Bird
That wak'd their sweets, has left 'em now for ever.

Rox.
'Tis certain now you never shall enjoy her;
Therefore Roxana may have leave to hope
You will at last be kind for all my sufferings,
My torments, racks, for this last dreadful murder,
Which furious Love of thee did bring upon me.

Alex.
O thou vile creature! bear thee from my sight,
And thank Statira that thou art alive:
Else thou hadst perish'd; yes, I wou'd ha' rent
With my just hands that Rock, that Marble heart;
I wou'd have div'd through Seas of bloud to find it,
To tear the cruel Quarry from its Center.

Rox.
O take me to your arms, and hide my blushes,
I Love you, spight of all your cruelties;
There is so much Divinity about you,
I tremble to approach; yet here's my hold,
Nor will I leave the Sacred Robe, for such
Is ev'ry thing that touches that blest Body:
I'le kiss it as the Relique of a God,
And Love shall grasp it with these dying hands.

Alex.
O that thou wert a man, that I might drive
Thee round the world, and scatter thy Contagion,
As Gods hurl mortal Plagues when they are angry.

Rox.
Do, drive me, hew me into smallest pieces,
My dust shall be inspir'd with a new fondness;
Still the Love-motes shall play before your eyes,
Where e're you go, however you despise.

Alex.
Away, there's not a glance that flies from thee,
But like a Basilisk comes wing'd with death.

Rox.
O speak not such harsh words, my Royal Master,
(kneels.
Look not so dreadful on your kneeling Servant;
But take, dear Sir, O take me into Grace,
By the dear Babe, the burden of my womb,
That weighs me down, when I wou'd follow faster.
My knees are weary, and my force is spent:
O do not frown, but clear that angry brow!
Your eyes will blast me, and your words are bolts
That strike me dead; the little wretch I bear,
Leaps frighted at your wrath, and dyes within me.

Alex.
O thou hast touch'd my Soul so tenderly,
That I will raise thee, though thy hands are ruine.
Rise, cruel woman, rise, and have a care,
O do not hurt that unborn Innocence,
For whose dear sake I now forgive thee all.
But hast, be gone, fly, fly from these sad eyes,
Fly with thy pardon, lest I call it back;
Though I forgive thee, I must hate thee ever.

Rox.
I go, I fly, for ever from thy sight.
My mortal Injuries have turn'd my mind,
And I cou'd curse my self for being kind.
If there be any Majesty above,
That has Revenge in store for perjur'd Love,
Send Heav'n the swiftest ruine on his head,
Strike the Destroyer, lay the Victor dead;
Kill the Triumpher, and avenge my wrong
In height of Pomp, while he is warm and young,
Bolted with Thunder let him rush along.
And when in the last pangs of life ho lyes,
Grant I may stand to dart him with my eyes;
Nay after death
Persue his spotted Ghost, and shoot him as he flies.

Exit.
Alex.
O my fair Star! I shall be shortly with thee;
For I already feel the sad effects
Of those most fatal Imprecations.
What means this deadly dew upon my forehead?
My heart too heaves.

Cas.
It will anon be still—
(aside
The poyson works.

Pol.
I'le see the wish'd effect
(aside.
E're I remove, and gorge me with Revenge.

Enter Perdiccas and Lysimachus.
Perd.
I beg your Majesty will pardon me,
A fatal Messenger;
Great Sysigambis hearing Statira's death,
Is now no more.
Her last words gave the Princess to the brave
Lysimachus; but that which most will strike you,
Your dear Hephestion, having drank too largely
At your last Feast, is of a surfeit dead.

Alex.
How, dead! Hephestion dead! alas the dear
Unhappy Youth!—But he sleeps happy,
I must wake for ever:—This object, this,
This face of fatal Beauty,
Will stretch my lids with vast, Eternal tears.—
Who had the care of poor Hephestion's life?

Lys.
Philarda, the Arabian Artist.

Alex.
Fly, Meleager, hang him on a Cross:
That for Hephestion.—
But here lies my Fate; Hephestion, Clytus,
All my Victories for ever folded up:
In this dear body my Banners lost,
My Standards Triumphs gone!
O when shall I be mad?—Give order to
The Army that they break their Shields, Swords, Spears;
Pound their bright Armour into dust away.
Is there not cause to put the World in mourning?
Tear all your Robes:—he dies that is not naked
Down to the wast, all like the Sons of sorrow.
Burn all the Spires that seem to kiss the Skie;
Beat down the Battlements of every City:
And for the Monument of this lov'd Creature,
Root up those Bowers, and pave 'em all with Gold:
Draw dry the Ganges, make the Indies poor;
To build her Tomb, no Shrines nor Altars spare,
But strip the shining Gods to make it rare.

Exit.
Cas.
Ha! whither now? follow him, Polipercon.
Ex. Pol.
I find Cassander's Plot grows full of Death;
Murder is playing her great Master-piece,
And the sad Sisters sweat, so fast I urge 'em.
O how I hug my self for this Revenge!
My fancy's great in mischief; for methinks
The night grows darker, and the lab'ring Ghosts,
For fear that I should find new Tortures out,
Run o're the old with most prodigious swiftness.
I see the fatal Fruit betwixt the Teeth,
The Sieve brim-full, and the swift Stone stand still.
Enter Polipercon.
What, does it work?

Pol.
Speak softly.

Cas.
Well.

Pol.
It does;
I follow'd him, and saw him swiftly walk
Toward the Palace; oft times looking back,
With watry eyes, and calling out, Statira.
He stumbl'd at the Gate, and fell along;
Nor was he rais'd with ease by his Attendants,
But seem'd a greater load then ordinary,
As much more as the Dead out-weigh the Living.

Cas.
Said he nothing?

Pol.
When they took him up,
He sigh'd, and enter'd with a strange wild look,
Embrac'd the Princes round, and said he must
Dispatch the business of the world in hast.

Enter Philip and Thessalus.
Phil.
Back, back, all scatter:—with a dreadful shout
I heard him cry, I am but a dead man.

Thes.
The poyson tears him with that height of horrour,
That I could pity him.

Pol.
Peace;—where shall we meet?

Cas.
In Saturn's Field.
Methinks I see the frighted Deities,
Ramming more bolts in their big-belly'd Clouds,
And firing all the Heav'ns to drown his noise.
Now we should laugh.—But go, disperse your selves,
While each Soul here, that fills his noble Vessel,
Swells with the murder, works with ruine o're:
And from the dreadfull deed this Glory draws,
We kill'd the greatest man that ever was.

The Scene draws, Enter Alexander and all his Attendants.
Alex.
Search there, nay probe me, search my wounded reins;
Pull, draw it out.

Lys.
We have search'd, but find no hurt.

Alex.
O I am shot, a forked burning Arrow
Sticks cross my shoulders, the sad Venom flies
Like Lightning through my flesh, my bloud, my marrow.

Lys.
This must be Treason.

Perd.
Wou'd I could but guess.

Alex.
Ha! what a change of Torments I endure?
A bolt of Ice runs hizzing through my bowels.
'Tis sure the arm of Death, give me a Chair;
Cover me, for I freeze, my teeth chatter,
And my knees knock together.

Perd.
Heav'n bless the King!

Alex.
Ha! who talks of Heav'n?
I am all Hell, I burn, I burn again.
The War grows wondrous hot, hey for the Tygris;
Bear me, Bucephalus, amongst the Billows:
O 'tis a noble beast! I would not change him
For the best Horse the Sun has in his Stable:
For they are hot, their Mangers full of coals,
Their Mains are flakes of Lightning, curls of Fire,
And their red Tails like Meteors whisk about.

Lys.
Help all, Eumenes, help, I cannot hold him.

Alex.
Ha, ha, ha, I shall dye with laughter.
Parmenio, Clytus, dost thou see yon fellow?
That ragged Souldier, thar poor tatter'd Greek?
See how he puts to flight the gaudy Persians,
With nothing but a rusty Helmet on, through which
The grizly bristles of his pushing Beard
Drive 'em like Pikes.—Ha, ha, ha.

Perd.
How wild he talks?

Lys.
Yet warring in his wildness.

Alex.
Sound, sound, keep your Ranks close, ay now they come:
O the brave dinn, the noble clank of Arms!
Charge, Charge apace, and let the Phalanx move.
Darius comes,—ha! let me in, none dare
To cross my fury;—Philotas is unhors'd;—Ay, 'tis Darius,
I see, I know him by the sparkling Plumes,
And his Gold Chariot drawn by ten white Horses:
But like a Tempest thus I pour upon him.—
He bleeds, with that last blow I brought him down;
He tumbles, take him, snatch the Imperial Crown.—
They fly, they fly,—follow, follow,—Victoria, Victoria,
Victoria,—O let me sleep.

Perd.
Let's raise him softly, and bear him to his Bed.

Alex.
Hold, the least motion gives me sudden death;
My vital Spirits are quite parch'd, burnt up,
And all my smoaky Entrails turn'd to ashes.

Lys.
When you the brightest Star that ever shone:
Shall set, it must be night with us for ever.

Alex.
Let me embrace you all before I dye:
Weep not, my dear Companions, the good Gods
Shall send you in my stead a nobler Prince,
One that shall lead you forth with matchless conduct.

Lys.
Break not our hearts with such unkind expressions.

Perd.
We will not part with you, nor change for Mars.

Alex.
Perdiccas, take this Ring,
And see me laid in the Temple of
Jupiter Ammon.

Lys.
To whom does your dread Majesty bequeath
The Empire of the World?

Alex.
To him that is most worthy.

Perd.
When will you, sacred Sir, that we should give
To your great memory those Divine Honours,
Which such exalted Virtue does deserve?

Alex.
When you are all most happy, and in peace.
Your hands,—O Father, if I have discharg'd
(rises.
The duty of a man to Empire born;
If by unwearied toil I have deserv'd
The vast renown of thy adopted Son,
Accept this Soul, which thou didst first inspire,
And with this sigh, thus gives thee back again.

(dyes.
Lys.
Eumenes, cover the faln Majesty,
If there be Treason let us find it out:
Lysimachus stands forth to lead you on,
And swears by those most honour'd dear Remains,
He will not tast the joys which Beauty brings,
Till we revenge the greatest, best of Kings.