 | Lee's Tragedy of Alexander The Great |  |
5
ACT I.
SCENE I.
ALEXANDER'S CAMP BEFORE BABYLON.Hephestion and Lysimachus fighting, Clytus parting them.
Clyt.
What, are you madmen? This a time for quarrel?
Put up, I say—Or, by the gods that form'd me,
He, who refuses, makes a foe of Clytus.
Lysi.
I have his sword.
Clyt.
But must not have his life.
Lysi.
Must not, old Clytus!
Clyt.
Hair-brain'd boy, you must not.
Heph.
Lend me thy sword, thou father of the war,
Thou far-fam'd guard of Alexander's life.
Curse on this weak, unexecuting arm!
Lend it, old Clytus, to redeem my fame;
Lysimachus is brave, and else will scorn me.
Lysi.
There, take thy sword; and, since thou'rt bent on death,
Know, 'tis thy glory that thou diest by me.
Clyt.
Stay thee, Lysimachus; Hephestion, hold;
I bar you both; my body interpos'd;
Now, let me see, which of you dares to strike.—
By Jove, you've stirr'd the old man!—that rash arm,
That first advances, moves against the gods,
And our great King, whose deputy I stand.
Lysi.
Some prop'rer time must terminate our quarrel.
Heph.
And cure the bleeding wounds my honour bears.
6
Some prop'rer time! 'tis false—no hour is proper;
No time should see a brave man do amiss.
Say, what's the noble cause of all this madness?
What vast ambition blows the dangerous fire?
Why, a vain, smiling, whining, coz'ning woman.
By all my triumphs, in the heat of youth,
When towns were sack'd and beauties prostrate lay,
When my blood boil'd, and nature work'd me high,
Clytus ne'er bow'd his body to such shame;
I knew 'em, and despis'd their cobweb arts:
The whole sex is not worth a soldier's thought.
Lysi.
Our cause of quarrel may to thee seem light;
But know, a less has set the world in arms.
Clyt.
Yes; Troy, they tell us, by a woman fell.
Curse on the sex, they are the bane of virtue!
Death! I had rather this right arm were lost,
Than that the king should hear of your imprudence—
What, on a day thus set apart for triumph!
Lysi.
We were, indeed, to blame.
Clyt.
This memorable day!—
When our hot master, whose impatient soul
Out-rides the sun, and sighs for other worlds
To spread his conquests, and diffuse his glory,
Now bids the trumpet for a while be silent,
And plays with monarchs, whom he us'd to drive;
Shall we, by broils, awake him into rage,
And rouse the lion that has ceas'd to roar?
Lysi.
Clytus, thou'rt right—put up thy sword, Hephestion:
Had passion not eclips'd the light of reason,
Untold we might this consequence have seen.
Heph.
Why has not reason power to conquer love?
Why are we thus enslav'd?
Clyt.
Because unmann'd;
Because ye follow Alexander's steps.
Heavens! that a face should thus bewitch his soul,
And ruin all that's great and godlike in it!
Talk be my bane; yet the old man must talk;
Not so he lov'd, when he at Issus fought,
And join'd in mighty combat with Darius,
Whom from his chariot, flaming all with gems,
He hurl'd to earth, and catch'd the imperial crown.
'Twas not the shaft of love perform'd that feat;
7
A brace of rival queens embroil the court;
And, while each hand is thus employ'd in beauty,
Where has he room for glory?
Heph.
In his heart.
Clyt.
Well said young minion!—I, indeed, forgot
To whom I spoke—But Sysigambis comes.
Now is your time; for with her comes an idol
That claims your homage—I'll attend the king
[Ex. Cly.
Enter Sysigambis and Parisatis.
Sysi.
Why will you wound me with your fond complaints,
And urge a suit that I can never grant?
You know, my child, 'tis Alexander's will;
Here he demands you for his lov'd Hephestion.
To disobey him might enflame his wrath,
And plunge our house in ruins yet unknown.
Pari.
To sooth this god, and charm him into temper,
Is there no victim, none but Parisatis?
Must I be doom'd to wretchedness and woe,
That others may enjoy the conqueror's smiles?
Oh, if you ever lov'd my royal father,
And sure you did, your gushing tears proclaim it,
If still his name be dear, have pity on me!
He would not thus have forc'd me to despair;
Indeed he would not; had I begg'd him thus,
He would have heard me, ere my heart was broke.
Sysi.
When will my sufferings end? Oh, when ye gods!
For sixty rolling years, my soul has stood
The dread vicissitudes of fate unmov'd;
I thought 'em your decrees, and therefore yielded.
But this last trial, as it springs from folly
Exceeds my suff'rance, and I must complain.
Lysi.
When Sysigambis mourns, no common woe
Can be the cause; 'tis misery indeed.
Yet, pardon, mighty queen, a wretched prince,
Who thus presumes to plead the cause of love.
Beyond my life, beyond the world I prize
Fair Parisatis—Hear me, I conjure you!
As you have authoriz'd Hephestion's vows,
8
To serve the Princess, and let love decide.
Heph.
A blessing like the beauteous Parisatis
Whole years of service, and the world's wide empire,
With all the blood that circles in our veins,
Can never merit; therefore, in my favour
I begg'd the king to interpose his int'rest;
Therefor I begg'd your majesties assistance;
Your word is past, and all my hopes rest on't.
Lysi.
Perish such hopes! for love's a generous passion,
Which seeks the happiness of her we love,
Beyond th'enjoyment of our own desires;
Nor kings nor parents here have ought to do.
Love owns no influence, and disdains controul;
Let them stand neuter, and 'tis all I ask.
Heph.
Such arrogance, did Alexander woo,
Would lose him all the conquests he has won.
Lysi.
To talk of conquests well becomes the man,
Whose life and sword are but his rival's gift.
Sysi.
It grieves me brave Lysimachus, to find
My power fall short of my desires to serve you;
You know, Hephestion first declar'd his love,
And 'tis as true, I promis'd him my aid.
Your glorious king, his mighty advocate,
Became himself an humble suppliant for him.
Forget her, prince, and triumph o'er your passion;
A conquest worthy of a soul like thine.
Lysi.
Forget her, Madam! sooner shall the sun
Forget to shine, and tumble from his sphere.
Farewell, great queen—my honour now demands
That Alexander should himself explain
That wond'rous merit which exalts his fav'rite,
And casts Lysimachus at such a distance.
[Exit Lysi.
Sysi.
In this wild transport of ungovern'd passion,
Too far, I fear, he will incense the king.
Is Alexander yet, my lord, arriv'd?
Heph.
Madam, I know not; but Cassander comes;
He may, perhaps, inform us.
Sysi.
I would shun him:
Something there is, I know not why, that shocks me.
Something my nature shrinks at, when I see him.
[Exeunt.
9
Cass.
The face of day now blushes scarlet deep,
Now blackens into night. The low'ring sun,
As if the dreadful business he foreknew,
Drives heavily his sable chariot on;
All nature seems alarm'd for Alexander.
Why be it so. Her pangs proclaim my triumph.
My soul's first wishes are to startle fate,
And strike amazement through the host of heav'n.
A mad Chaldean, with a flaming torch,
Came to my bed last night, and bellowing o'er me,
Well had it been for Babylon, he cried,
If curst Cassander never had been born.
Enter Thessalus.
How now, dear Thessalus, what packet's that?
Thess.
From Macedon, a trusty slave just brought it.
Your father chides us for our cold delay;
He says Craterus, by the king's appointment,
Comes, in his room, to govern Macedon,
Which nothing but the tyrant's death can hinder.
Therefore he bids us boldly strike at once,
Or quit our purpose, and confess our fears.
Cass.
Is not his fate resolv'd? this night he dies;
And thus my father but forestalls my purpose.
How am I slow then? If I rode on thunder,
Wing'd as the lightning, it would ask some moments,
Ere I could blast the growth of this Colussus.
Thess.
Mark where the haughty Polyphercon comes I
Some new affront by Alexander given
Swells in his heart, and stings him into madness.
Cass.
Now, now's our time; he must, he shall be our's;
His haughty soul will kindle at his wrongs,
Blaze into rage, and glory in revenge.
Enter Polypherchon.
Poly.
Still as I pass, fresh murmurs fill my ears;
All talk of wrongs, and mutter their complaints.
Poor soul-less reptiles!—their revenge expires
In idle threats—the fortitude of cowards!
Their province is to talk; 'tis mine to act,
10
He wrong'd a man whose attribute is vengeance.
Cass.
All nations bow their heads with servile homage,
And kiss the feet of this exalted man.
The name, the shout, the blast from ev'ry mouth
Is Alexander! Alexander stuns
The list'ning ear, and drowns the voice of heav'n.
The earth's commanders fawn like crouching spaniels;
And if this hunter of the barbarous world
But wind himself a god, all echo him
With universal cry.
Poly.
I fawn, or echo him!
Cassander, no; my soul disdains the thought;
Let eastern slaves, or prostituted Greeks,
Crouch at his feet, or tremble if he frown;
When Polyperchon can descend so low,
False to that honour which through fields of death
I still have courted, where the fight was fiercest,
Be scorn my portion, infamy my lot!
Thes.
The king may doom me to a thousand tortures,
Ply me with fire, and rack me like Philotas,
Ere I shall stoop to idolize his pride.
Cass.
Not Aristander, had he rais'd all hell,
Cou'd more have shock'd my soul, than thou hast done,
By the bare mention of Philotas' murder.
Oh, Polyperchon, how shall I describe it!
Did not your eyes rain blood to see the hero?
Did not your spirits burst with smothered vengeance,
To see thy noble fellow warrior tortur'd?
Yet, without groaning, or a tear, endure
The torments of the damn'd? Oh, death to think it!
We saw him bruis'd, we saw his bones laid bare,
His veins wide lanc'd, and the poor quiv'ring flesh
With fiery pincers from his bosom torn,
Till all beheld where the great heart lay panting!
Poly.
Yet all like statues stood, cold lifeless statues,
As if the sight had froze us into marble;
When, with collected rage, we should have flown
To instant vengeance on the ruthless cause,
And plung'd a thousand daggers in his heart.
Cass.
At our last banquet, when the bowl had gone
The giddy round, and wine inflam'd my spririts,
11
In Persian robes; to Alexander's health
They largely drank; and, falling at his feet,
With impious adoration thus address'd
Their idol god. Hail, son of thund'ring Jove!
Hail, first of kings! young Ammon, live for ever!
Then kiss'd the ground; on which I laugh'd aloud,
And scoffing, ask'd 'em, why they kiss'd no harder.
Whereon the tyrant, starting from his throne,
Spurn'd me to earth, and stamping on my neck,
Learn thou to kiss it, was his fierce reply;
While with his foot he press'd me to the earth,
Till I lay welt'ring in a foam of blood.
Poly.
Thus when I mock'd the Persians that ador'd him,
He struck me on the face, swung me around,
And bid his guards chastise me like a slave.
But if he 'scape my vengeance, may he live,
Great as that god whose name he thus prophanes!
And like a slave may I be beaten,
Scoff'd as I pass, and branded for a coward!
Cass.
There spoke the spirit of Calisthenes.
Remember, he's a man, his flesh as penetrable
As any girl's, and wounded too as soon;
To give him death no thunders are required:
Struck by a stone young Jupiter has fall'n,
A sword has pierc'd him, and the blood has follow'd;
Nay, we have seen an hundred common ailments
Bring this immortal to the gates of death.
Poly.
Oh, let us not delay the glorious business;
Our wrongs are great, and honour calls for vengeance.
Cass.
This day exulting Babylon receives
The mighty robber—with him comes Roxana,
Fierce haughty fair! On his return from India,
Artful she met him in the height of triumph,
And by a thousand wiles at Susa kept him,
In all the luxury of eastern revels.
Poly.
How bore Statira his revolted love?
For, if I err not, e'er the king espous'd her,
She made him promise to renounce Roxana.
Thes.
No words can paint the anguish it occasion'd;
Ev'n Sysigambis wept, while the wrong'd queen,
Struck to the heart, fell lifeless on the ground.
12
When the first tumult of her grief was laid,
I sought to fire her into wild revenge;
And to that end, with all the art I could,
Describ'd his passion for the bright Roxana.
But though I could not to my wish inflame her,
Thus far at least her jealousy will help;
She'll give him troubles that perhaps may end him,
And set the court in universal uproar.
But see, she comes. Our plots begin to ripen.
Now: hange the vizor, every one disperse,
And, with a face of friendship, meet the king.
[Exeunt.
Enter Sysigambis, Statira, and Parisatis.
Stat.
Oh, for a dagger, a draught of poison, flames!
Swell, heart! break, break, thou wretched stubborn thing!
Now, by the sacred fire, I'll not be held:—
Pray, give me leave to walk.
Sysi.
Is there no reverence to my person due?
Trust me, Statira, had thy father liv'd,
Darius wou'd have heard me.
Stat.
Oh, he's false;
This glorious man, this wonder of the world,
Is to his love, and ev'ry god foresworn.
Oh, I have heard him breathe such ardent vows,
Out-weep the morning with his dewy eyes,
And sigh and swear the list'ning stars away.
Sysi.
Believe not rumour, 'tis impossible;
Thy Alexander is renown'd for truth,
Above deceit—
Stat.
Away, and let me die.
'Twas but my fondness, 'twas my easy nature
Wou'd have excus'd him—but away such weakness—
Are not his falsehoods, and Statira's wrongs,
A subject canvass'd in the mouths of millions?
The babbling world can talk of nothing else.
Why, Alexander, why woud'st thou deceive me!
Have I not lov'd thee, cruel as thou art!
Have I not kiss'd thy wounds with dying fondness,
Bath'd 'em in tears, and bound 'em with my hair!
Whole nights I've sat and watch'd thee as a child,
Lull'd thy fierce pains, and sung thee to repose.
13
If man can thus renounce the solemn ties
Of sacred love, who wou'd regard his vows?
Stat.
Regard his vows! the monster, traitor! Oh,
I will forsake the haunts of men, converse
No more with aught that's human; dwell with darkness;
For since the sight of him is now unwelcome,
What has the world to give Statira joy?
Yet I must tell thee, perjur'd as he is,
Not the soft breezes of the genial spring,
The fragrant violet, or op'ning rose,
Are half so sweet as Alexander's breath.
Then he will talk—good gods, how he will talk!
He speaks the kindest words, and looks such things,
Vows with such passion, swears with such a grace,
That it is heav'n to be deluded by him.
Sysi.
Her sorrows must have way.
Stat.
Roxana then enjoys my perjur'd love;
Roxana clasps my monarch in her arms,
Doats on my conqu'ror, my dear lord, my king.
Oh, 'tis too much! by Heav'n I cannot bear it!
I'll die, or rid me of the burning torture.
Hear me, bright god of day, hear ev'ry god,—
Sysi.
Take heed, Statira; weigh it well, my child,
Ere desperate love enforces you to swear.
Stat.
Oh, fear not that, already have I weigh'd it;
And, in the presence here of Heav'n and you,
Renounce all converse with perfidious man.
Farewel, ye cozeners of our easy sex!
And thou, the falsest of the faithless kind,
Farewel, for ever! Oh, farewel! farewel!
If I but mention him the tears will flow.
How coud'st thou, cruel, wrong a heart like mine,
Thus fond, thus doting, ev'n to madness on thee!
Sysi.
Clear up thy griefs, thy Alexander comes,
Triumphant in the spoils of conquer'd India;
This day the hero enters Babylon.
Stat.
Why, let him come: all eyes will gaze with rapture,
All hearts will joy to see the victor pass;
All but the wretched, the forlorn Statira.
Sysi.
Wilt thou not see him then?
Pari.
Not see the king?
Stat.
I swear, and Heav'n be witness to my vow,
14
Nor speak, no, nor, if possible, to think
Of Alexander more: this is my vow,
And when I break it—
Sysi.
Do not ruin all.
Stat.
May I again be perjur'd and deluded!
May furies rend my heart! may light'nings blast me!
Sysi.
Recal, my child, the dreadful imprecation.
Stat.
No, I will publish it through all the court;
Then, in the bow'rs of great Semiramis,
Retire for ever from the treacherous world.
There from man's sight will I conceal my woes,
And seek in solitude a calm repose.
Nor pray'rs, nor tears, shall my resolves controul,
Nor love itself, that tyrant of the soul.
[Exeunt.
End of The First Act.
| Lee's Tragedy of Alexander The Great | |