University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

—A SQUARE BEFORE THE PALACE.
Enter Clytus, Hephestion, and Perdiccas.
Clyt.
Urge me no more; I hate the Persian dress;
Nor should the king be angry at the rev'rence
I owe my country—sacred are her customs,
And honest Clytus will to death observe 'em.
Oh! let me rot in Macedonian rags,
Or, like Calisthenes, be cag'd for life,
Rather than shine in fashions of the East.

Perd.
Let me, brave Clytus, as a friend intreat you.

Heph.
What virtue is there that adorns a throne,
Exalts the heart, and dignifies the man,
Which shines not brightly in our royal master?
And yet perversely you'll oppose his will,
And thwart an innocent unhurtful humour.

Clyt.
Unhurtful! Oh! 'tis monstrous affectation,
Pregnant with venom, in its nature black,
And not to be excus'd!—Shall man, weak man,
Exact the rev'rence which we pay to Heaven,
And bid his fellow-creatures kneel before him,
And yet be innocent? Hephestion, no;
The pride that lays a claim to adoration,
Insults our reason, and provokes the gods.

Perd.
Yet what was Jove, the god whom we adore?
Was he not once a man, and rais'd to Heaven
For gen'rous acts, and virtues more than human?

Heph.
By all his thunder, and his sov'reign pow'r,
I'll not believe the world yet ever felt
An arm like Alexander's—Not that god
You nam'd, though riding in a car of fire,
Could in a shorter space do greater deeds;
Or more effectually have taught mankind,
To bend submissive, and confess his sway.

Clyt.
I tell you, boy, that Clytus loves the king
As well as you, or any soldier here,
Yet I disdain to sooth his growing pride;
The hero charms me, but the god offends.

Heph.
Then go not to the banquet.

Clyt.
Why, I was bid,
Young minion, was I not, as well as you?
I'll go, my friends, in this old habit, thus,
And laugh, and drink the king's health heartily;
And while you, blushing, bow your heads to earth,
And hide them in the dust,—I'll stand erect,
Straight as a spear, the pillar of my country,
And be by so much nearer to the gods.

Heph.
But see, the king appears.

Enter Alexander, Statira, Parisatis, Thessalus, Eumenes, and Guards.
Pari.
Oh, gracious monarch!
Spare him, Oh, spare Lysimachus his life!
I know you will—the brave delight in mercy.

Alex.
Shield me, Statira, shield me from her sorrows.

Pari.
Save him, Oh, save him, ere it be too late,
Speak the kind word, let not your soldier perish,
For one rash action, by despair occasion'd.
I'll follow thus for ever on my knees;
You shall not pass. Statira, Oh, intreat him!

Alex.
Oh, Madam, take her, take her from about me;
Her streaming eyes assail my very soul,
And shake my best resolves.

Stat.
Did I not break
Through all for you? Nay, now, my lord, you must.
By all th'obedience I have paid you long,
By all your passion, sighs, and tender looks,
Oh, save a prince, whose only crime is love.
I had not join'd this bold suit, my lord,
But that it adds new lustre to your honour.

Alex.
Honour! what's that? Has not Statira said it?—
Fly, Clytus, snatch him from the jaws of death,
And to the royal banquet bring him straight,
Bring him in triumph, fit for loads of honour.

[Exeunt Clytus, Hephestion, and Parisatis.
Stat.
Why are you thus beyond expression kind?
Oh, my lov'd lord, my fond, my raptur'd heart,
By gratitude and love at once inflam'd,
With wild emotion flutters in my breast;
Oh, teach it then, instruct it how to thank you!

Alex.
Excellent woman!
'Tis not in nature to support such joy.

Stat.
Go, my best love; unbend you at the banquet;
Indulge in joy, and laugh your cares away;
While, in the bowers of great Semiramis,
I dress your bed with all the sweets of nature,
And crown it, as the altar of our loves;
Where I will lay me down, and softly mourn,
But never close my eyes, till you return.
[Exit. Stat.

Alex.
Is she not more than mortal can desire!
As Venus lovely, and as Dian chaste!
And yet, I know not why, our parting shocks me;
A ghastly paleness sat upon her brow;
Her voice, like dying echoes, fainter grew;
And, as I wrung her by the rosy fingers,
Methought the strings of my great heart were crack'd.
What could it mean? Forward, Laomedon.
Enter Roxana, Cassander, and Polyperchon.
Why, Madam, gaze you thus?

Roxa.
For a last look,
And to imprint the memory of my wrongs,
Roxana's wrongs, on Alexander's mind.

Alex.
On to the banquet.

[Exeunt Alexander and his Train.
Roxa.
Ha! with such disdain!
So unconcern'd! Oh, I could tear myself,
Him, you, and all the hateful world to atoms.

Cass.
Still keep this spirit up, preserve it still,
And know us for your friends. We like your rage;
'Tis lovely in you, and your wrongs require it.
Here, in the sight of Heaven, Cassander swears,
Unaw'd by death, to second your revenge.
Speak but the word, and, swift as thought can fly,
The tyrant falls a victim to your fury.

Roxa.
Shall he then die? Shall I consent to kill him?
I, that have lov'd him with that eager fondness,
Shall I consent to have him basely murder'd,
And see him clasp'd in the cold arms of death?
Worlds should not tempt me to the deed of horror.

Poly.
The weak fond scruples of your love might pass,
Were not the empire of the world concern'd:
But, Madam, think, when time shall teach his tongue,
How will the glorious infant, which you bear,
Arraign his partial mother, for refusing
To fix him on the throne, which here we offer?

Cass.
If Alexander lives, you cannot reign,
Nor will your child. Old Sysigambis plans
Your sure destruction. Boldly then prevent her;
Give but the word, and Alexander dies.

Poly.
Not he alone, the Persian race shall bleed;
At your command, one universal ruin
Shall, like a deluge, whelm the eastern world,
Till gloriously we raise you to the throne.

Roxa.
But, till the mighty ruin be accomplish'd
Where can Roxana fly th'avenging wrath
Of those who must succeed this godlike man?

Cass.
Would you vouchsafe, in these expanded arms
To seek a refuge, what could hurt you here?
Here you might reign, with undiminish'd lustre,
Queen of the East, and empress of my soul.

Roxa.
Disgrac'd Roxana! whither art thou fallen?
Till this curs'd hour, I never was unhappy;
There's not one mark of former majesty
To awe the slave that offers at my honour.

Cass.
Impute not, Madam, my unbounded passion
To want of rev'rence—I have lov'd you long.

Roxa.
Peace, villain, peace, and let me hear no more.
Think'st thou I'd leave the bosom of a god,
And stoop to thee, thou moving piece of earth?
Hence, from my sight, and never more presume
To meet my eyes; for, mark me, if thou dar'st,
To Alexander I'll unfold thy treason;
Whose life, in spite of all his wrongs to me,
Shall still be sacred, and above thy malice.

Cass.
(Kneels)
By your own life, the greatest oath, I swear,
Cassander's passion from this hour is dumb;
And, as the best atonement I can make,
Statira dies, the victim of your vengeance.

Roxa.
Cassander, rise; 'tis ample expiation.
Yes, rival, yes; this night shall be thy last;
This night, I know, is destin'd for thy triumph,
And gives my Alexander to thy arms.
Oh, murd'rous thought!

Poly.
The bow'rs of great Semiramis are made
The scene of love; Perdiccas holds the guard.

Cass.
Now is your time, while Alexander revels,
And the whole court re-echoes with his riot,
To end her, and with her to end your fears.
Give me but half the Zogdian slaves that wait you,
And deem her dead: nor shall a soul escape,
That serves your rival, to disperse the news.

Roxa.
By me they die, Perdiccas and Statira;
Hence with thy aid, I neither ask nor want it,
But will myself conduct the slaves to battle.
Were she to fall by any arm but mine,
Well might she murmur, and arraign her stars;
'Tis life well lost, to die by my command;
What must it be, to perish by my hand?
Rival, rejoice, and, pleas'd, resign thy breath,
Roxana's vengeance grants thee noble death.—
Exit Roxa.

Cass.
All but her Jove, this Semele disdains.
We must be quick—She may, perhaps, betray
The great design, and frustrate our revenge.

Poly.
Has Philip got instruction how to act?

Cass.
He has, my friend; and, faithful to our cause,
Resolves to execute the fatal order.
Bear him this phial; it contains a poison
Of that exalted force, that deadly nature,
Should Æsculapius drink it, in an hour,
For then it works, the god himself were mortal;
I drew it from Nonacris' horrid spring:
Miz'd with his wine, a single drop gives death,
And sends him howling to the shades below.

Poly.
I know its power, for I have seen it try'd
Pains of all sorts through every nerve and artery
At once it scatters; burns at once and freezes;
Till, by extremity of torture forc'd,
The soul consent to leave her joyless home,
And seek for ease in worlds unknown to this.

Cass.
Now let us part:—with Thessalus and Philip
Haste to the banquet; at his second call,
Let this be given him, and it crowns our hopes.
[Ex. Poly.
Now, Alexander, now, we shall be quits;
Death for a blow is interest indeed.

[Exit.

SCENE II

THE PALACE.
Alexander, Perdiccas, Polyperchon, Cassander, Thessalus, Eumenes, Guards, &c. discovered at a banquet.
[A flourish of Trumpets, Drums, &c.
Alex.
To our immortal health, and our fair queen's!—
All drink it deep; and, while the bowl goes round,
Mars and Bellona join to make us music;
A hundred bulls be offer'd to the sun,
White as his beams; speak the big voice of war;
Strike all our drums, and sound our silver trumpets;
Provoke the gods to follow our example
In bowls of nectar, and replying thunder.

[Flourish of Trumpets, Drums, &c.
Enter Clytus, Hephestion, and Lysimachus bloody.
Clyt.
Long live the king; long live great Alexander;
And conquest crown his arms with deathless laurels,
Propitious to his friends, and all he favours!

Alex.
Did I not give command you should preserve Lysimachus?

Heph.
Dread Sir, you did.

Alex.
What then
Portend these bloody marks?

Heph.
Ere we arriv'd,
Perdiccas had already plac'd the prince
In a lone court, all but his hands unarm'd.

Clyt.
On them were gauntlets; such was his desire,
In death to shew the difference betwixt
The blood of Eacus, and common men.
Forth issuing from his den, amaz'd we saw
The horrid savage, with whose hideous roar
The palace shook; his angry eye-balls, glaring
With triple fury, menac'd death and ruin.

Heph.
With unconcern the gallant prince advanc'd;
Now, Parisatis, be the glory thine,
But mine the danger, were his only words;
For, as he spoke, the furious beast descried him,
And rush'd outrageous to devour his prey.

Clyt.
Agile and vigorous, he avoids the shock
With a slight wound; and, as the lion turn'd,
Thrust gauntlet, arm, and all into his throat,
And, with Herculean strength, tears forth the tongue;
Foaming and bloody, the disabled savage
Sunk to the earth, and ploughed it with his teeth;
While, with an active bound, your conqu'ring soldier
Leap'd on his back, and dash'd his scull in pieces.

Alex.
By all my laurels, 'twas a godlike act;
And 'tis my glory, as it shall be thine,
That Alexander could not pardon thee.
Oh, my brave soldier, think not all the pray'rs
And tears of the lamenting queens could move me
Like what thou hast perform'd! Grow to my breast.

Lysi.
Thus self-condemn'd, and conscious of my guilt,
How shall I stand such unexampled goodness!
Oh, pardon, Sir, the transports of despair,
The frantic outrage, of ungovern'd love!
Even when I shew'd the greatest want of reverence,
I could have died with rapture in your service.

Alex.
Lysimachus, we both have been transported;
But from this hour be certain of my heart.
A lion be the impress of thy shield;
And that gold armour, we from Porus won,
Thy king presents thee—But thy wounds ask rest.

Lysi.
I have no wounds, dread Sir; or, if I had,
Were they all mortal, they should stream unminded,
When Alexander was the glorious health.

Alex.
Thy hand, Hephestion. Clasp him to thy heart,
And wear him ever near thee. Parisatis
Shall now be his who serves me best in war.
Neither reply; but mark the charge I give;
Live, live as friends; you will; you must; you shall;
'Tis a god gives you life.

Clyt.
Oh, monstrous vanity!

Alex.
Ha! what says Clytus? who am I?

Clyt.
The son
Of good king Philip.

Alex.
By my kindred gods,
'Tis false:—Great Ammon gave me birth.

Clyt.
I've done.

Alex.
Clytus, what means that dress? Give him a robe there.
Take it, and wear it.

Clyt.
Sir, the wine, the weather
Has heated me; besides, you know my humour.

Alex.
Oh! 'tis not well! I'd rather perish, burn,
Than be so singular and froward.

Clyt.
So would I—
Burn, hang, or drown; but in a better cause.
I'll drink, or fight, for sacred majesty
With any here. Fill me another bowl.
Will you excuse me?

Alex.
You will be excused.
But let him have his humour; he is old.

Clyt.
So was your father, Sir; this to his mem'ry!
Sound all the trumpets there.

Alex.
They shall not sound
Till the king drinks. Sure, I was born to wage
Eternal war!—All are my enemies,
Whom I could tame—But let the sports go on.

Lysi.
Nay, Clytus, you that could advise so well—

Alex.
Let him persist, be positive, and proud,
Envious and sullen 'mongst the nobler souls,
Like an infernal spirit that hath stolen
From hell, and mingled with the mirth of gods.

Clyt.
When gods grow hot, no difference I know
'Twixt them and devils—Fill me Greek wine; yet,
Yet fuller; I want spirits.

Alex.
Let me have music.

Clyt.
Music for boys—Clytus would hear the groans
Of dying soldiers and the neigh of steeds;
Or, if I must be pester'd with shrill sounds,
Give me the cries of matrons in sack'd towns.

Heph.
Let us, Lysimachus, awake the king;
A heavy gloom is gathering on his brow.
Kneel all, with humblest adoration kneel,
And let a health to Jove's great son go round.

Alex.
Sound, sound, that all the universe may hear.
Oh, for the voice of Jove! the world should know
[A loud flourish of trumpets.
The kindness of my people.—Rise, Oh, rise;—
My hands, my arms, my heart, are ever your's.

Clyt.
I did not kiss the earth, nor must your hand;
I am unworthy, Sir.

Alex.
Thou art, indeed!—
Thou enviest the great honour of thy master.—
Sit, all my friends.—Now let us talk of war;
The noblest subject for a soldier's mouth;
And speak, speak freely, else you love me not,
Who, think you, was the greatest general
That ever led an army to the field?

Heph.
A chief so great, so fortunately brave,
And justly so renown'd as Alexander,
The radiant sun, since first his beams gave light,
Never yet saw.

Lysi.
Such was not Cyrus, nor the fam'd Alcides,
Nor great Achilles, whose tempestuous sword
Laid Troy in ashes, though the warring gods
Oppos'd him.

Alex.
Oh, you flatter me! you flatter me!

Clyt.
They do indeed; and yet you love 'em for't;
But hate old Clytus for his hardy virtue.—
Come, shall I speak a man, with equal bravery,
A better general, and experter soldier?

Alex.
Instruct me, Sir: I should be glad to learn.

Clyt.
Your father, Philip.—I have seen him march,
And fought beneath his dreadful banner, where
The boldest at this table would have trembled.—
Nay, frown not, Sir; you cannot look me dead.—
When Greeks join'd Greeks, then was the tug of war,
The labour'd battle sweat, and conquest bled.
Why should I fear to speak a bolder truth,
Than e'er the lying priests of Ammon told you?
Philip fought men, but Alexander women.

Alex.
Proud spite, and burning envy, by the gods!
Is then my glory come to this at last,
To conquer women! Nay, he said, the stoutest,
The stoutest here wou'd tremble at his dangers.
In all the sickness, all the wounds, I bore,
When from my reins the javelin's head was cut,
Lysimachus, Hephestion, speak, Perdiccas,
Did I once tremble?—Oh, the cursed falshood!—
Did I once shake or groan? or act beneath
The dauntless resolution of a king?

Lysi.
Wine has transported him.

Alex.
No, 'tis meer malice.—
I was a woman too at Oxydrace,
When, planting on the walls a scaling ladder,
I mounted, spight of show'rs of stones, bars, arrows,
And all the lumber which they thunder'd down;
When you beneath cry'd out, and spread you arms,
That I should leap among you, did I so?

Lysi.
Dread Sir, the old man knows not what he says.

Alex.
Was I a woman, when, like Mercury,
I leap'd the walls and flew amidst the foe,
And, like a baited lion, dy'd myself
All over in the blood of those bold hunters;
Till, spent with toil, I battled on my knees,
Pluck'd forth the darts that made my shield a forest,
And hurl'd 'em back with most unconquer'd fury?—
Then, shining in my arms, I sunn'd the field,
Mov'd, spoke, and fought, and was myself a war.

Clyt.
'Twas all bravado; for, before you leap'd,
You saw that I had burst the gates asunder.

Alex.
Oh, that thou wert but young again and vig'rous,
That I might strike thee prostrate to the earth
For this audacious lie, thou feeble dotard!

Clyt.
I know the reason; why you use me thus.
I sav'd you from the sword of bold Rhesaces,
Else had your godship slumber'd in the dust;
And most ungratefully you hate me for it.

Alex.
Hence from the banquet!—Thus far I forgive thee.

Clyt.
First try, for none can want forgiveness more,
To have your own bold blasphemies forgiven,
The shameful riots of a vicious life,
Philotas' murder—

Alex.
Ha! what said the traitor!

Heph.
Clytus, withdraw; Eumenes, force him hence;
He must not tarry. Drag him to the door.

Clyt.
No, let him send me, if I must begone,
To Philip, Attalus, Calisthenes,
To great Parmenio, and his slaughter'd sons.

Alex.
Give me a javelin.

Lysi.
Hold, mighty Sir.

Alex.
Sirrah! off,
Lest I at once strike through his heart and thine.

Heph.
Oh, sacred Sir, have but a moment's patience

Alex.
What! Hold my arms? I shall be murder'd here,
Like poor Darius, by my barb'rous subjects.
Perdiccas, sound our trumpets to the camp;
Call all my soldiers to the court. Nay, haste;
For there is treason plotting 'gainst my life,
And I shall perish ere they come to save me.
[Exit Perdic.
Where is the traitor?

Clyt.
Sure there's none amongst us;
But here I stand—honest Clytus!—
Whom the king invited to the banquet.

Alex.
Begone to Philip, Attalus, Calisthenes;
[Stabs him.
And let bold subjects learn, by thy example,
Not to provoke the patience of their prince.

Clyt.
The rage of wine is drown'd in gushing blood
Oh, Alexander! I have been to blame;
Hate me not after death; for I repent,
That I so far have urg'd your noble nature.

Alex.
What's this I hear! Say on, my dying soldier.

Clyt.
I shou'd have kill'd myself, had I but liv'd
To be once sober; now I fall with honour;
My own hands wou'd have brought foul death. Oh, pardon!

[Dies.
Alex.
Then I am lost! What has my vengeance done!
Who is it thou hast slain? Clytus!—what was he?
The faithfullest subject, worthiest counsellor,
The bravest soldier! He who sav'd thy life,
Fighting bare-headed at the river Granick;—
And now he has a noble recompense!
For a rash word, spoke in the heat of wine,
The poor, the honest Clytus thou hast slain;
Clytus, thy friend, thy guardian, thy preserver!

Heph.
Remove the body, it inflames his sorrow.

Alex.
None dare to touch him; we must never part.
Cruel Hephestion and Lysimachus,
That had the power, yet wou'd not hold me!—Oh!

Lysi.
Dear Sir, we did.

Alex.
I know ye did; ye held me
Like a wild beast, to let me go again
With greater violence.—Oh, ye've undone me!
Excuse it not,—you that cou'd stop a lion,
Cou'd not turn me?—ye should have drawn your swords,
And barr'd my rage with their advancing points;
Made reason glitter in my dazzled eyes,
Till I had seen the precipice before me;
That had been noble, that had shewn the friend.
Clytus wou'd so have done to save your lives.

Lysi.
When men shall hear how highly you were urg'd—

Alex.
No; you have let me stain my rising glory,
Which else had ended brighter than the sun.
Oh, I am all a blot, which seas of tears,
And my heart's blood, can never wash away;
Yet 'tis but just I try, and on the point,
Still reeking, hurl my black polluted breast,

Heph.
Oh, sacred Sir—it shall not—must not be.

Lysi.
Forgive, dread Sir, forgive my pious hands,
That dare, in duty, to disarm my master.

Alex.
Yes, cruel men, ye now can shew your strength;
Here's not a slave, but dares oppose my justice,
Yet none had courage to prevent this murder.
But I will render all endeavours vain,
That tend to save my life—Here will I lie,
Close to my murder'd soldier's bleeding side,
Thus clasping his cold body in my arms,
Till death has clos'd my eyes, like his, for ever.

Enter Perdiccas.
Perd.
Treason! foul treason! Hephestion, where's the king?

Heph.
There, by old Clytus' side, whom he hath slain.

Perd.
Rise, sacred Sir, and haste to save the queen:
Roxana, fill'd with furious jealousy,
Came with a guard, unmark'd: she gain'd the bow'r,
And broke upon me with such sudden fury,
That all have perish'd who oppos'd her rage.

Alex.
What says Perdiccas? Is the queen in danger?

Perd.
Haste, Sir, to your Statira, or she dies.

Alex.
Thus from the grave I rise to save her life.—
All draw your swords, on wings of lightning move,
Young Ammon leads you, and the cause is love;
When I rush on, sure none will dare to stay,
'Tis beauty calls, and glory leads the way.

[Exeunt.
Flourish of Trumpets, Drums, &c.