University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE, A Chamber.
Parisatis at the Tea-Table. The Maid waiting.
Parisatis.
AIR.

Maid.
Illustrious Princess, please to drink your Tea.

Parisatis.
I don't mind Tea; nay really, entre nous,
I don't know what I mind, or what I do:
My Reason, like a ragged Ruffle rent-is,
And all my Senses are Non Compos Mentis.

Maid.
Yes, you're frustration'd; so 'twas with me, Madam,
Sick for my Sweethearts, always, 'till I had 'em:
For Love, like Drink, brings our weak Brain to Trouble,
And either blinds us, or else we see double.
AIR.

Enter Lysimachus; who, as he runs to embrace Parisatis, over-sets the Tea-Table.
Lysimachus.
Dear Parisatis—

Parisatis.
Lord! sure, Lysimachus, the Duce is in ye!
You've broke my Set of Babylonish China.
AIR. Melancholissimo.

Enter Porus.
Porus.
Who's this I see?

Lysimachus.
Me!

Porus.
Thee!
And what's your Business, ha! Sir?

Lysimachus.
What's that to you?

Maid.
What's here to do?

Lysimachus.
I'm here, and here will stay, Sir.

Maid.
Pray, Sir, King Porus, d'you call this Carriage
The Indian Way of Wooing before Marriage?

Porus.
What wou'd the Wench? Nothing to me your Prate is;
I'll box Lysimachus for Parisatis.

Lysimachus.
Mahogony, if I get a proper Purchase,
I'll coit to Earth your Charcoal Carcase.

QUARTETTO.
Por.
Sallow Grecian, I abhor you:

Lysim.
Zounds, Sir, strip; I'm ready for you;
Right and Left I'll give you purely:

Maid.
Old Nick's in the Fellow, surely.

[Enter Alexander, and runs between the Combatants.
Alex.
Heyday!
What's here to do?

[Lysimachus, attempting to strike Porus, hits Alexander in the Face.
Alexander.
Porus, I wish you had kept that Fellow's Blows off;
Lysimachus has almost knock'd my Nose off.

Lysimachus.
Great Alexander, humbly I beg Pardon.

Alexander.
Sirrah, you're only fit for a Bear-Garden:
You shall not have my Head your Strength to try on;
Seize him: I'll make him set to with a Lyon.

Clytus.
May it please your Mirmydonship to forgive him;
Clytus, on both Knees, begs you will reprieve him.
Ah! were you sober; I most humbly think—

Alexander.
What says the Rebel? Is your King in Drink?
The Thought is Treason. I will have the Dog's-Head;
I'll pierce the Traitor, as they tap a Hogshead.

[Seizes a Javelin, and stabs Clytus.
Clytus.
So, I'm right serv'd: Yes, 'tis quite through my Lungs;
Learn from my Fate, my Friends, to hold your Tongues.
AIR.

After Clytus has sung himself to Death;
Alexander,
in RECITATIVE Accompany'd.
How cou'd I thus to Death my Friend assail?
His Lights are lost, and all his Pimples pale.
Toss me, ye Tempests! suffocate me, Vapours!
Ye Furies, singe me with your Brimstone Tapers!
I am mad! Sad and merry, light-headed and heavy;
On a Hand-gallop Reason is running Tantivy.
Now I mount on the Back of Bucephalus prancing,
Or methinks—
On the big-belly'd Billows I'm dancing.
MAD SONG.

[Alexander is carried off upon the Shoulders of his Guards.
Lysimachus.
Behold where yonder light-heel'd Mercury jumps;
I know the Poster by his feather'd Pumps.

Mercury flies across the Stage, and then Enters.
Mercury.
From his Empyrean Dome, Star-rob'd, survey
Th'Olympic Landlord of the Milky-Way;
In Eagle-Chariot mounted, he descends
To pay a Visit to terrestrial Friends.

Stage opens, and Jupiter descends in his Chariot.
Jupiter.
I've brought my Lightnings; Madam, don't be frighted;
As the Moon's down, I wou'd not be benighted.
Our Bard-Historian, Homer, has made known
In Days of Yore, we Deities came down
To save a Soldier, or to sack a Town:
Poets rode Post on Pegasus, t'invites us;
And here we post it, to restore old Clytus.
Clytus, thy Spirits Animal retreated,
As if by Bite Tarantula, defeated:
Sons of the String, with Symphonies awake him,
And let your instrumental Uproar shake him.

A Crash, or Clash, of all the Orchestra.
Thais.
SONG.
When on Air a Tune floats,
Through musical Throats,
The Notes how we quavering distribute 'em?
'Till Alto non Troppo,
We finish Da Capo,
And run a Division ad Libitum.

Clytus
reviving.
AIR.
Ha! why? what? how?
Where am I now?
Methought,
I was brought,
I don't know where,
Nor do I care;
I am here, without Doubt;
So let us drink about.

Thais.
Your Life was lost, and Jove came to restore it.

Clytus.
Did he? Why then I humbly thank him for it.

“Porus.
“Ruler of Atmospheres, if Porus' Fate is
“T'enjoy the illustrious Princess Parisatis—

“Lysimachus.
“You have her! Ink-Face?—

“Clytus.
“Cousin, hold your Prate;
“Jove is your Judge, and what he Wills is Fate.

“Jupiter.
“Then thus it is decreed by Jupiter Ammon,
“You Rivals play a Rubber at Backgammon.
“Let him who Wins her, make no Noise about her;
“Let him who's Gammon'd, silent go without her.

“Clytus.
“It shall be so. Lysimachus and Porus
“Will both obey, and play the Match before us.
“SONG.

Jupiter.
Our Labour finish'd; now, 'tis fitting,
As Ida's Council will be sitting,
We must return, with equal State and Train:
You play'd us down—so play us up again.
GRAND CHORUS.