University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Enter Clytus, Heph. Eum. &c.
CLYTUS.
Away, I will not wear that Powder'd Wigg.

Hep.
Dear Clytus be perswaded,
'Tis Alexander's Order, you'll offend him.

Cly.
There's ne'er a Fop among you all
That loves the Rogue like me: But that's no matter.
I do'nt love to see him play the Fool;
What I once have in my Head, out it comes,
And when the Wine is in—You know the Proverb.

Hep.
Then prithee do'nt Sup with him.

Cly.
Why so, Pupyy! I was
Invited as well as you, was not I,
I'll go my Lads in this old Smoaking Robe,
And Drink, and Whiff, and Roar, and suck my Face,
And while you Reeling bow your Heads to Earth,
And smear 'em in the Dirt, I'll stand upright
Straight as a Scure, the May-pole of my Country,
And be by five Foot nearer to the Gods,
Tho' that's not very much indeed—but see
The Rake and all his Punks appear.

Enter Alex. Sys. and Parisatis.
Par.
Spare him! O spare my poor Lysimachus.
Speak the kind Word, before the spouting Pump
Sopps all his Cloaths: O let him not be Drench'd,
Only for calling your Hephestion Names;
I'll Daggle thus for ever on my Knees,
I'll make your Way so slippery with Tears
You shall not dare to Walk; for Fear your Heels
Fly up, and you should break your Elbows.
Sister, do you Wheedle him.

Stat.
Mum—

Ale.
O Mother hide me, screen me, save me from her.

Stat.
Did not I break thro' all for you:
And Romp into your Arms?
Nay prithee Aleck—Phoo! You shall!

Sys.
Nay Son, this does not hurt your Honour.

Ale.
Honour, what Honour! has not Statira said it?
Were I the King of the Blew Firmament,
And the bold Giants shou'd again make War,
Tho' my loud Thunder too were in my Hand,
Rot me, if I'de strik a Stroke 'gainst her Command.
Fly then even thou his Rival so belov'd,
Fly with old Clytus snatch him from the Spout
Of the fierce Drenceing Pump, bring him unsous'd
To Supper, fit for scores of Bumpers—

Stat.
That's my Dear, dear! O let me hug you close;
You are too good for Countesses themselves,
Now I can freely go, and take
A chearful Bottle with your Friends,
While in the Garret of Simiramis
I make your Bed, lay on clean Sheets,
Scented with Lavender,
And sweep the Room out for your coming—

[Exeunt.
Ale.
By Jove 'tis Ominous Our parting is.
For when I rung her by the Greasy Fingers,
Methought my Guts, did snap like Fiddle-strings.
Ha! Roxana here!
Enter Roxana.
Why Madam Gaze yon thus?

Ro.
For a last Look.

Ale.
Take it.

Rox.
Raschal!

Al.
Peithee stand out of my way—

Rox.
I will.
But I have sworn you shall hear me speak;
And mark me well, for Garlick's in my Breath.

Al.
I smell it—Come along Perdicky.

[Ext.
Rox.
So unconcern'd! O! I could Broil my Flesh.
My Soul is pent, and has not Elbow Room;
O that it had a Space might answer to
It's Infinite Desire, where I might strip
And toss the Spheres about like Tennis Balls.

Cas.
Look'ee! Few Words! Shall I cut's Throat?
Tip but the Wink, and he's Crow's Meat.

Rox.
Ha!

Ph.
Behold your forward Slave.

Cas.
I'll Execute.

Rox.
And when I've made him sure, where shall
I find a Father for this Brat unborn?
The very Constable will find my Lodging out,
And then, or Baile, or Bridewel is my Doom.

Cass.
No Madam, I'll take care of that.
Pardon the boldness of my furious Love
You shall live well, and Cleaner then before
In your Cassanders Keeping.

Rox.
Peace most Audacious Scoundrel,
Or with this Mutton Fist, I'le dab thy Passion
In thy Face.

Cass.
Your Pardon, Madam—
I'll play the Wagg no more.

Rox.
Nor dare to meet my Eyes with a Love Glance,
For if thou do'st, I'll have thy Bones broke.

Cass.
To make Attonement for the highest Crime,
I begg your Ladyship will take Statira's Life
To please your Fancy.

Rox.
Get up again—
For thou hast made me ample Expiation.

Cas.
The Garret of Semiramis is made this Night
The Scene of their close laid Intreigue;
No time so proper as the present now,
Lend me but half your Zogdian Mobb,
I'll do the Deed.

Rox.
No Sir, I shan't need you, you'll Love again.

Cas.
Nay dear Madam—

Rox.
I'll head the Mobb my self, go you apart,
Get me some Brandy quick; Hay, haste, a Quart;
She first shall Drink my Health, and then shall smart.

Exunt.
Cas.
Gramercy Bulker—She scorns to Scold
Beneath the Mobb—We must be swift,
The Roguery we intend, who knows
She may Discover—it must be done to Night
Now at his Supper.

Phil.
I'll fill him a Glass—What shall I put in't?

Cas.
Observe in this small Viol certain Death;
I drew it from a Heynious hollow Tooth,
A Drop sneak't into Wine, will do his Business.

Phil.
I long to be at it.

Cas.
Haste to the Supper, at his Second Bumper
In with't—But Mum!—Not a word of the Pudding.

Scene Opens, discovers Alexander on a Joynt Stool, and his Comrades about him with Bumper's in their Hands.
Al.
To our peculiar Health, and Statty's too.
All Drink it, Super-Naculam:
And while it briskly fly's about,
Let Brass and Iron joyn to make us Musick;
Speak the Big Voice, of Kitchin-ware,
Play all our Tongs, Our Gridirons, Pans and Kettles,
'Till we provoke the Gods to Roar like Us,
In Cans of Nectar, and in Popps of Thunder

Enter Hephestion, Lysimachus, Clytus, Lysimachus his Hair Dropping.
Cly.
Long live my Bully, Conquest crown his Fist
With Black Eyes every Blow, Fortune's his Slave
And Kisses all that don't turn Tail upon him.

Al.
Did I not give Command you shou'd
Preserve Lysimachus?

Clyt.
Ye.

Al.
What then portend those Dripping Locks?

Cly.
Your Kindness came too late, Perdiccas had
According to the surly Charge you gave,
Already brought Lysimachus to the Pump.
And—and—send to—

Hep.
Prithee let me tell it.
So Sir, you must know, his Head indeed was bare;
But o'er his Cloaths the cunning Varlet wore
A right great Drab Debery Coat, such was his Wish,
To shew in Wet the Difference betwix't
Your Wooll-well-wove, and common Cloath.

Cly.
Nay now I must put in—So Sir, in short,
When we had pump't, at least six Porters out
Of Breath, and thought we'd sous'd him pretty well,
This learing Rogue whip't off his dropping Coat,
And underneath appears in Cloaths as dry
As any here, Gad-Zooks! as You, or I.

Al.
By all my Bruses 'twas a neat Contrivance,
And 'tis my Glory, as it shall be thine,
That Alexander had not Power to Pump thee.

Lys.
However Love did make me play the Fool,
While I was Pump't, my Feaverish Blood did cool.

Al.
Lysimachus, we both have been a couple
Of Blockheads, but let that pass—
Come! Parisati's Health.
Fill him a Bumper, You, get his Wigg comb'd;
Thy Hand Hephestion—Hug him close—(Put it off)

Very well—Parisatis
Shall now be his that sits my Hand out best;
Neither Reply, but marke the Charge I give,
And her as you can—Sound—Sound
My Scoundrel's Honour—
[Play Tongs here.
Live all you must, 'tis odd to give you Life.

Cly.
The Fellows mad!

Al.
Ha! what says Clytus! Who am I?

Cly.
The Son of your Father, for ought I know.

Al.
No 'tis false, by all my Kindred in the Sky,
Jove made my Mother Pregnant.

Cly.
Why then you may be the Son of a Whore
For ought you know—I have done.

Al.
I see you'll never leave—
But let the Sports go on.

[A Dance here.
Al.
Come Clytus, take the Perriwig.

[Banquet brought on here.
Cly.
Sir, the Wine.
The Weather's hot, besides I love to have my Humour.

Al.
I'de Burn, e'er be so singular and forward.

Cly.
So wou'd I, Burn, Hang or Drown,
When I cou'd not help it,
I'll Drink or Fight for thee Old Bully Rock
With any here—Hey, give me t'other Bumper,
You'll Excuse me, Sir.

Al.
You will be Excus'd:
But let him have his Humour, he's Old.

Cly.
That's true, but I can't help it.

Lys.
Nay Clytus, you that cou'd Advise,

Cly.
Prithee don't be troublesome!

Al.
Forbear,
Let him persist, be Positive, and Proud
Like an Infernal Spirit, that had stol'n
From Hell, and mingl'd with the Laughing Gods.

Cly.
An odd Simile! But I'll be even with him.
(aside.
When Gods grow Hot, where's the Difference
'Twix't them and Devils—Fill me Port Wine,
Yet fuller, I'm not half Drunk.

Al.
Ha! Let me have a Catch.

Cly.
Musick for Journey-Men—Clytus wou'd hear
The Noise of Tavern-Bells, and Comming, Comming, Sir.
Or if I must be Tortur'd with shrill Voices,
Give me squeaking of a Nut-Brown Wench.

Hep.
Lysimachus, the Captain's down in the Mouth,
Let's put the Glass about: Health to the Son of
Alexander's Father, each Man take his Bumper
In his Hand, Kneel all, and Kiss the Earth
Out of a Frolick.

Al.
Sound, Sound that all the Neighbourhood may hear.
Ha: ha, ha, Get up again you pleasant Doggs;
Kiss me dear Rogues, my Heart, and Lungs, and Gutts
Are ever Yours.

Cly.
I did not rub my Nose in the Dirt,
And so I suppose must not Kiss your Face;
Not that I care whether I do or no.

Alex.
Thou envy'st my great Honour—

Cly.
Not I, Rott me.

Al.
Ha!

Clyt.
Sir, my humble service to you.

Al.
Come sit my Friends—Nay, I must
Have a Room too.

Sys.
All the Reason in the world Sir.

Al.
Come let's have a Song,
[Dialogue here]
Now let us talk of Blood: For what more fits
A Soldiers Mouth, and speak, speak freely or—
You don't care this for me.
Who think you was the truest Rake,
That ever put a Constable to Flight?

Hep.
I think the Moon her self ne're saw a Lad,
So truly-brisk, so fortunately stout,
As Alexander,

Sys.
Such was not any Body.

Alex.
O you flatter me!

Clyt.
They do Ods-bud; yet you like 'em for it;
But hate Old Clytus, 'cause he blunders Truth out.
Come! shall I speak, a Lad more brisk than you,
A Prettier fellow, and six times the Rake.

Alex.
I shou'd be glad to Learn, Instruct me, Sir.

Clyt.
Your Father Capt. Tom. I've seen him scour,
And swear, and lay about him, where
The stoutest at this Table wou'd have run for't.
Prithee don't frown at me: what I say's fact.
VVhen Mob joyn'd Mob, then was the smartest doings,
The Lab'ring Butchers swear, and crack't Crowns bleed;
VVhy shou'd I fear to speak a Truth more Noble
Then e're your Father, fiddle come faddle told you,
Tommy kick'd Men, but Alexander VVhores.

Alex.
Spite by the Mass, proud spite, and scalding Envy.
Is then my Glory come at last to this
Only to kick a VVhore?
In all the broaken Heads and Thumps I bore,
VVhen in my Skull the VVatchman's Bill was left,
Lysimachus, Hephestion, speak Perdicas,
Did I once Tremble! O the curs'd Lyer,
Did I so much as Grinn, or once cry Oh!

Sys.
Turn the Discourse, good Sir, the Old-Man's Drunk.

Clyt.
You Lye.

Alex.
I kick'd a VVhore too at Oxadrace,
VVhile like Mercury, I Leap'd the VValls to fly among
My Foes, and like a baited Poll-Cat, smear'd
My self all o're in the blood of those bold Hunters,
Till spent with Toyl, I battl'd on my Knees,
And sweat, and smoak't, and swore, and flounc'd,
And play'd the Devil among them.

Clyt.
All a damn'd Lye from top to bottom.

Alex.
Did I then turn me like a Coward round,
And cry our Murther! the Rascal knows
I did not, O that thou wert Young again,
That like a Mill-stone
I might fall, souse upon thy Head;
Grin'd thee to Dust, and dash thy Teeth out
For this damn'd Lye, thou pitious Bastard.

[Throws Drink in his Face.]
Clyt.
VVhat's that for, Ha! what do you drench me
Like a Pick-Pocket!
I know the reason that you Use me so,
Because I sav'd your Life at Billings-Gate;
And when your Back was turn'd, ventur'd my Bones,
Among a thousand Clubs and Prongs, you hate
Me for't: you do proud Prigg.

Alex.
Away, your Breath's too strong.

Clyt.
You hate the Benefactor, tho' you took the Gift,
Your Life, from this affronted Clytus,
VVhich is the black and blue Ingratitude.

Alex.
Get out of the Room, thus far I forgive thee.

Clyt.
Forgive Your self for all Your Rogueries,
Your Swearing, Drinking, Cheating, Picking
Phillota's Pocket.

Alex.
Ha! what said the Rascal!

Sys.
Eumenes, let's force him hence.

Clyt.
No, let him send me, if I must go,
To Phillip Attalus, Calisthene,
To Old Parmenio, and his bubbl'd Sons;
Parmenio who lent you many a Sum in's time
VVithout your Bond, but you ne're paid a Jack on't,

Al.
Give me a Mop-staff.

Hep.
Hold Sir.

Al.
Off Sirrah, least
At once I break his Head and thine—
VVhere is the Gentleman?

Clyt.
Sure there's none about you, but here
Stands Tory-Rory, Clytus, that came to
Crack a Bottle with you,

Alex.
Go sup with Phillip,
[Runs a Mop in's Face]
Parmenio, Attalus, Calisthenes, and let bold
Scoundrels learn from thy sweet Pickle,
To tempt the Patience of a Man of Quality,

Clyt.
My Brains are quite knock'd out,
And now I begin to come to my self.
O Alexander, I have been to blame indeed,
I am very sorry, Thee and I should Quarrel;
But I hope hear's an End on't—for I
Don't believe I shall Live.

Alex.
VVhat's this I hear! say on my Dying Joker.

Cly.
I shou'd have cut my Throat my self,
Had I but once Liv'd to have been sober;
But you have maul'd me, and so it's as well
As it is—Good buy to ye—

[Dyes.]
Alex.
Then I am lost! what has my Courage done;
Who is it, thou hast slain: Clytus? ha! ay!
'Tis Clytus faith, good lack a Day!
Are these the Laws of Prodigallity?
Thy Friends will shun thee now, and stand at distance,
Nor dare to crack a Jest, nor Eat with thee,
Nor smoak, nor Drink, least by thy Frolick,
They be mauld too.

Hep.
Guards, take the Body hence.

Alex.
None dare to touch him,
For we must never part, here will I Lie,
Close by his bleeding side, thus kissing him,
These black furr'd Lips, that have so often Joak'd with me,
Thus clasping his cold Body in my Arms,
'Till Death like him has made me stiff and staring.

Hep.
What shall we do?

Sys.
How do I know'nt, ev'n call the Constable
I think.

Per.
Help! help, Murder!

(Enter Perdicas with his Head broke)
Per.
Help! Sir ho! Hephestion where's the Colonel?

Hep.
There by Old Clytus side, whom he has mauld,

Per.
Nay, then
All our Fat's in the Fire again.
Rise wicked Sir, and haste to save my Lady,
Roxana, Cramb'd with furious Jealousie,
Came with a Lane of Zogdian Mob unmark't,
And laid about her, with such furious Rage,
That all are swing'd, that a Resistance made;
I only with this broken Head, thro' Staves and Prongs
Have forc'd my way, to give you timely Notice.

Alex.
Thus from the Grave I rise to save my Dear,
You that have Swords, lug out, that han't stay here.
When I rush on, sure none will dare say nay,
'Tis this, and that, that calls, and to'ther leads the way.

(Extant)