University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

Scene a Garret. Statira Snoaring the Spirit of Queen Statira her Mother, and Darius, rise with Bumpers.
STATIRA.
Hey Ho!
O I have had the strangest Dream! Methought!
My dead Drunk Parents, there I saw them stand,
Offering a Three Pint Bumper to my Hand;
Yet e'er the Glass cou'd reach my Banter'd Lips,
They Vanish't both, and both sunk down as low
As any thing, as Hell for ought I know.
Why do I tremble thus!
Hence you Fantastick Forms! away! 'tis all
Burlesque! and yet methinks he stays a damn'd
Long while! When will my tedious Rogue be here?
O! how I long to taste his Phizzing Lips,
To kiss him out of Breath, to hug him close,
And squeeze, and sigh, and sweat, and swoon away.
But hark! 'tis he! the dear ones come at last.

Enter Roxana Attended,
Rox.
At length we have clamber'd these five pair of Stairs.
This flying Garret, whose most strong Ascent
Is thrice as high as is the Monument,
If I had said the Clouds, I'd ly'd.

Stat.
Nay then too sure my Dream foretold some Evil,
There, there's the Jade will send me to the Devil.

Rox.
Bolt the broken Door,
And make it fast with all the Stools and Tables.
Where, where's my Rival?
Appear Statira, now no more in keeping,
Roxana Calls, where is your Bladder Face?

Stat.
And who art thou, whose foul Mouth'd Words,
Declare thou know'st not what belongs to Breeding?

Rox.
I like the Port Imperious Beauty bears;
But if your Ladyship's more Quality than I,
Offers to stab her.
Here take this Bumper off Imediately;
Come to Roxana's Health—or do't dye.

Stat.
Roxana, No, tho' I dare take my Dram
As well as you, or any other Dame,
Yet that I may a sweet Nights Lodging take,
I'll keep my sober Vow, for Sawny's sake:
Beside, I scorn to Drink the Glass you fill,
And therefore fearless of thy Threats, dare still
Walk thus Regardless by, and thus thy Brandy spill

(Strikes down the Glass)
Rox.
What in your Airs? nay, then a bigger Glass.

Stat.
O hold!

Rox.
Drink or I'll throw it in thy Face
(Drinks)
So; now 'tis off, 'twill make the Rascal think
When I have kill'd thee, that thou Dyd'st in Drink,
Tho' wou'd'st thou back again his Heart but give,
Thou yet the Empress of the Moon shou'd'st Live.

Stat.
This I dare promise, if you spare my Life,
He'll use you better, than he wou'd his Wife.

Rox.
His Wife! that all!

Stat.
Perhaps at my Request,
If you spare me, shall shake you by the Fist;
Nay, you shall kiss him thrice, and thrice be fairly kiss'd.

Rox.
But thrice! no more!

Stat.
A little more! O Yes!
Your Friend shall ever be, so I'm his Miss.

Rox.
Your Friend! what must I bring you then together,
Be his stale Bawd—

Stat.
Yet hold thy hand advanc'd in Air,
And since thou hast Resolv'd, I must be mauld,
Wreak then thy bloody Vengeance on me,
Wash in my blood, and swill thee in my Gore,
Make Puddings of my Guts, minc'd Meat
Of my Heart;
But oh, Roxana! yet dear Sister Sterling,
Give me Polt in Alexanders presence.

Rox.
If I do—

(Enter Cassander)
Cass.
Madam, the Rake with all his Scoundrels
At his Heels, are forcing open the Doors, he swears
He'll break the Heads of all that stop his Entrance,
And I much fear your Capons will obey him.

Rox.
Then I must haste, thou Dyest.

(Stabs her)
(Enter Alexander and Guards.)
Alex.
O Serpent! thou shalt Reign the Queen of Rockets.

Rox.
Ay, strike me do! behold my Guts swell forth
To meet thee, They'r full of Wine, of Veins
That run burn't Brandy.

Alex.
O my Soul! Oone's how she smells—huh—

Rox.
You see the Pickle she's in, and I
Confess my self the Cause, she's Drunk.

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

Stat.
O Aleck?—uh! I am very sick—

Al.
Answer me Father, wilt thou take her from me,
Is then the Orange-Colour'd Hour at last arriv'd,
That I must never wallow in her bosom more;
Ne're more, look pretty Babys in her Eyes,
That shot me with a thousand and eleven smiles!

Stat.
Farewell, dear Aleck!
O I'm in a dismal Pickle!—
Grant me one thing.

Al.
A couple if you please, but Name 'em.

Stat.
First then, ne're leave your Company before;
You get as Drunk as I—
And O! sometimes among your Bumpers
Think of your poor Staty,
And as you Guzzle of the chearfull Glass,
Throw in but one Goe-down in memory
Of me, and then call what's to pay.

(Dyes)
Al.
Close not thy Eyes, for I have fifty things
To say before thou goe'st, tell the God's I'm coming
To give 'em an Account of this and that and t'oher,
About Eleven Hundred thousand Fooleries that much
Concern the Tittle-Tattlement above Stairs—
O! she's gone! the Talking Fool is Dumb!
O! that thou wer't a Man, that I might Kick
Thee down the Stairs, and scatter thy Contagion
As Quacks hurle Pocky Bills when they are Hungry.

Rox.
Why do you Frown upon your Humble Servant?
For yet I Love thee spight of all thy Roguries;
Ther'es still so much of the dear Rake about you,
I'd fain approach, but that I fear a Beating;
For Our dear Babes sake clear that Bullying Brow,
It knocks me down, the little Whelp I bear
Leaps frighted up, and kicks me when you swear.

Alex.
O! Rise! thou barbrous Jade! get up! take heed!
I do not hurt that Bastard yet Unborn;
For whose Young sake, I now forgive you all.
But haste, be gone! fly with thy Pardon hence;
Lest I should call it back, and let you
Get it as you can.

Rox.
I go, I whisk for ever from thy sight.
If there be any Bayliffs here in Town,
That now have Writs out 'gainst this perjur'd Clown,
Lay quick some unbail'd Action on his Head,
Maul the Destroyer, Laugh the Raskal Dead,
Thump the Thumper, and avenge my Wrong;
In his best Cloaths, drag him thro' Dirt and Dung
Hooted by Rabble, let him cout along.
And when in Goal half Dead he 'gins to Snivel,
Grant I may stand to teach him to be Civil;
Nay after Death—
Persue his beaten Ghost, and kick him to the Devil.

Enter Perdiccas.
Per.
Sir, I beg your Pardon,
For I am a dismal Messenger.
Great Sysigambis, nor knowing Statira's Death,
Is now no more alive than I am.
Her first Words (for her first were always her last)
Gave Nunquam Satis to Lysimachus:
But that which most will set your Hair an End,
Your poor Hephestion having cram'd his Guts
Too full of your last Fowl and Bacon,
Is of a Surfeit Dead.

Alex.
How, Dead! Hephestion Dead! impossible!
He was alive within this half Hour!
But he sleeps happy, I must Wake for ever.
Who had the Care of poor Heptstion's Life?

Per.
Philarda the Apothecary.

Alex.
Fly Messenger—Toss him in a Blanket,
That for Hephestion—
But here lies my Fate, Hephestion, Clytus,
All my Fopperies for ever folded up;
O when shall I be Mad! When! Why now I will
Give Order to the Army that they break their
Shields, Swords, Spears,
Pound their bright Armour into Dust, away!
Is there not Cause to play the Devil among 'em?
Tear all your Cloaths, he dies, that wears a pair
Of Britches in my sight, all like the Sons of Bedlam
Burn all the Spires that seem to kiss the Sky,
Tho' thats but very few—beat down
The Battlements of every City—Ay! there!
Untile the Houses, pull the Chimneys down,
And for the Monument of this strange Creature,
Root up the Streets, and pave 'em all with Gold,
Get it where you can, drain dry the Exchequer,
Make the Bank of England poor
To build her Tomb, no Purse, nor Persons spare,
Pick Pockets free, so you but make it rare.

[Ext.
Cas.
Cassender's Plott is now brim full of Death,
O how I hug my self for this Revenge.
The Day grows Dark, because 'tis almost Night,
And all the Ghosts are now afraid of me,
At least 'tis Terrible to say so.
How! Do's it Work?

Enter Phillip:
Phil:
It do's:
I follow'd him and saw him scour away
To the Entry: He stumbled at the Door,
And broke his Forehead; then call'd for a Piece
Of wet Brown Paper—
And said he must dispatch the business of the Moon
In haste

Enter Thessalus.
Thes.
Back, Back, all scatter!
The Dose has pinch'd him with such twisting Gripes
That I cou'd pitty him.

Phil.
Where shall we meet?

Cas.
In Lister-Fields.
Methinks I see the frighted Deities
Raming more Bolts in their big-belly'd Clouds,
And setting all the Heavens in Labour.

Thes.
That's more than I see.

Phil.
I say let's Laugh.

Cas.
I say talk big.
While each Soul here whose Vessells newly Tunn'd
With Murder swells, nay squirts with Ruin o're,
And from the Drunken Deed this Glory draws,
Wee've Kill'd the saddest Dog, that ever was.

Exe.
(Enter Alexander attended)
Alex.
Search here and there! and Probe
Me every where, Pull, Draw it out.

Lys.
This must be Poison.

Per.
Marry Heaven forbid!

Alex.
Ha! Who talks of Heaven,
I am all Hell! I burn I burn again.
The Rogues shall have the worst on't! Hey!
For the Horse Pond! bear me old Ball amongst
The Bayliffs. O! 'tis a Noble Beast, I wou'd not
Change him for the best Horse in Keeping at
New-Market, for they're damn'd dear, their Breeding
Costs more, their Gates are Walk and Gallop,
Pace they cannot.
And if their Masters mount 'em Hey!
They Whisk him off again.

Lys.
Help all, Eumenes lend's your Hand to hold him.

Alex.
Ha, ha, I shall burst with Laughter.
Parmenio, Clytus, do'st thou see yon Beau?
That Powder'd Prigg, that ne'er pay'd in's Life?
See how he break's the Head of the Boxkeeper,
Because he has a French Perriwig on, and thinks
He can like Lewis, huff the World with Feathers,
And fright 'em with Cockades—ha, ha, ha,

Perd.
How foolishly he Rants?

Sys.
Yet Heroical in his bombast.

Alex.
Sound, Sound the Sow-Gelders Horn! keep the Mobb out,
Ay, now they shout.
O the brave Din, the noble cry of Whores!
Charge, Charge a-pace; and set the Pump agoing,
Her Bully comes—ha! let me tame him, none dare
To pary me,—I'll Pink the scoundrel;—Ay, 'tis Hackum,
I see, I know him by his Tally'd Dudds,
And the long jarring Tilter by his side:
But like a Watchman, thus I'll bolt upon him—
He Reels with that Box, he falls into the Cellar;
He's down, take him, hurry him to the Compter,
Huzza! huzza! huzza—follow, Victoria,
Victoria; Victoria,—O let me take a Nap.

Perd.
Raise him softly, and carry him to the
Lumber-House:

Alex.
Hold, the least puff blows my Candle out.
My Vital Snuff is winking in its Socket;
My Liver and my Heart's to Tinder burnt,
And all my smoaky Intrails made black Puddings.

Lys.
When you, the Greatest Sawney that e'er liv'd
Shall die, there's none of us will e'er be like you.

Alex.
Let me hug you All before I'm Non Compos:
Weep not, Dear Sons of Raggamuffins; the Mint,
Or Drury-Lane, will raise you in my stead,
One that will teach you how to Bully better.

Lys.
Break not our Twatling-Strings with saying it.

Per.
We will not Part with you for Tom a' Bedlam:

Alex.
Perdiccas, take this Key,
And see me laid in the Temple
Bogg-House.

Sys.
To whom does your dread Royalty bequeath
The Empire of the Stars?

Alex.
To him that can get up to't.

Perd.
When will you blust'ring Sir, that we shou'd pay
To your Monumental Fame, those high Rites
Of Coaching, Feath'ring, and Anointing Bayliffs,

Alex.
When Sawney's Landlord shall dare Arrest my Corps
Your Paws—O Father Tom, if I have Discharg'd,
The Duty of a Covent-Garden Royesterer;
If by my Countless and Unpatteren'd Oaths,
I have deserv'd the mighty Name of Sharper.
Accept this Breath, which once like yours, could vent
It self another Way, and sweetly sigh out Backwards.

[dies.
Lys.
Eumenus, cover the broken Bellows—Burst,
And let us find the Traytor out that Rack'd 'em.
Lysimachus stands forth to Probe the Treason;
And swears by th'Immortal Clangors of his Master,
He will not sweep the Streets, nor scoure the Jakes,
Till he has Reveng'd the greatest, best of Rakes.