burn. Larks that mount aloft in the air, build their nests below in the earth; and women that cast their eyes upon kings, may place their hearts upon vassals. A needle will become thy fingers better than a lute, and a distaff is fitter for thy hand than a scepter. Ants live safely till they have gotten wings; and Juniper is not blown up, till it hath gotten an high top. The mean estate is without care as long as it continueth without pride. But here cometh Apelles, in whom I would there were the like affection.

Enter APELLES.

Apelles. Gentlewoman, the misfortune I had with your picture will put you to some pains to sit again to be painted.

Campaspe. It is small pains for me to sit still, but infinite for you to draw still.

Apelles. No, madam, to paint Venus was a pleasure; but to shadow the sweet face of Campaspe, it is a heaven

Campaspe. If your tongue were made of the same flesh that your heart is, your words would be as your thoughts are; but such a common thing it is amongst you to commend, that oftentimes for fashion sake you call them beautiful whom you know black.

Apelles. What might men do to be believ'd?
Campaspe. Whet their tongues on their hearts.
Apelles. So they do, and speak as they think.
Campaspe. I would they did.

Apelles. I would they did not.

Campaspe. Why, would you have them dissemble? Apelles. Not in love, but their love. But will you give me leave to ask you a question without offence? Campaspe. So that you will answer me another without excuse.

Apelles. Whom do you love best in the world?
Campaspe. He that made me last in the world.
Apelles. That was a god.

Campaspe. I had thought it had been a man: but whom do you honour most, Apelles ?

Apelles. The thing that is likest you, Campaspe.
Campaspe. My picture?

But

Apelles. I dare not venture upon your person. come, let us go in for Alexander will think it long till we return.

[Exeunt.

ACT. IV. SCEN. III.

CLYTUS, PARMENIO.

Clytus. We hear nothing of our embassage; a colour belike to blear our eyes, or tickle our ears, or inflame our hearts. But what doth Alexander in the mean season, but use for tantara, sol, fa, la; for his hard couch, down beds; for his handful of water, his standing cup of wine?

Parmenio. Clytus, I mislike this new delicacy and pleasing peace; for what else do we see now than a kind of softness in every man's mind? Bees to make their hives in soldiers helmets, our steeds are furnish'd with foot-cloths* of gold instead of saddles of steel: More time is required to scower the rust off our weapons, than there was wont to be in subduing the countries of our enemies. Sithence Alexander fell from his hard armour to his soft robes, behold the face of his court; youths that were wont to carry devices of victory in their shields, engrave now posies of love in their rings; they that were accustom'd on trotting horses to charge the enemy with a launce, now in easy coaches ride up and down to court ladies; instead of sword and target to hazard their lives, use pen and paper to paint their loves: Yea, such a fear and faintness is grown in court, that they wish rather to hear the blowing of a

-foot cloths] Housings of horses, such as were worn in times of peace, but not adopted to purposes of war. Lord Hastings, in King Richard III., observes that his foot-cloth horse did stumble. S.

33

horn to hunt, than the sound of a trumpet to fight. O Philip, wert thou alive to see this alteration, thy men turn'd to women, thy soldiers to lovers, 93 gloves worn in velvet caps, instead of plumes in graven helmets, thou wouldst either die among them for sorrow, or confound them for anger.

Clytus. Cease, Parmenio, lest in speaking what be cometh thee not, thou feel what 34 liketh thee not: truth is never without a scratch'd face, whose tongue, although it cannot be cut out, yet must it be tied up.

Parmenio. It grieveth me not a little fos Hephestion, who thirsteth for honour, not ease; but such is his fortune and nearness in friendship to Alexander, that he must lay a pillow under his head, when he would put a target in his hand.

66

33-gloves worn in velvet caps, instead of plumes in graven helmets,] It is observed by Mr. Steevens (Notes on Shakspeare, vol. IX. p. 467.) that it was anciently the custom to wear gloves in the hat on three distinct occasions, viz. as the favour of a mistress, "the memorial of a friend, and as a mark to be challenged by an enemy. Prince Henry boasts that he will pluck a glove from the commonest creature, and fix it in his helmet ;" and Tucca says to Sir Quintilian, in Decker's Satiromastrix: " — thou shalt wear her glove in thy worshipful hat, like to a leather brooch ;" and Pandora, in Lyly's Woman in the Moon, 1597:

66

66

he that first presents me with his head, "Shall wear my glove in favour of the deed." Portia, in her assumed character, asks Bassanio for his gloves, which she says she will wear for his sake: and King Henry V. gives the pretended glove of Alencon to Fluellin, which after"wards occasions the quarrel with the English soldier." See also Note to vol. V. p. 234.

Again, in Hall's Chronicle, 1550, Henry IV. fol. 12: "One part "had their plumes at whyt, another hadde them at redde, and the thyrde had them of severall colours. One ware on his head"piece his ladies sleve, and another bare on hys helme the glove of "his dearlynge."

And The Battle of Agincourt, by Drayton, vol. I. Р 16:
"The nobler youth, the common rank above,
"On their coui vetting coursers mounted fair,
- One wore his mistress garter, one her glove;
"And he a lock of his dear lady's hair;

34

And he her colours whom he most did love.

6. There was not one but did some favour wear."

- liketh thee] See Note on Cornelia, Act I.

But let us draw in, to see how well it becomes them to 35 tread the measures in a dance, that were wont to set the order for a march.

[Exeunt.

Apelles. I have now, Campaspe, almost made an end. Campaspe. You told me, Apelles, you would never

end.

Apelles. Never end my love; for it shall be eternal. Campaspe. That is, neither to have beginning nor ending.

Apelles. You are disposed to mistake, I hope you do not mistrust.

Campaspe. What will you say, if Alexander perceive your love?

35

· tread the measures in a dance,] The measures were dances solemn and slow. They were performed at court and at public entertainments of the societies of Law and Equity at their halls on particular occasions. It was formerly not deemed inconsistent with propriety even for the gravest characters to join in them, and accordingly at the revels which were celebrated at the Inns of Court, it has not been unusual for the first characters in the law to become performers in treading the measures. See Dugdale's Origines Juridiciales. Sir John Davies, in his Poem called Orchestra, 1622, describes them in this manner, S. 65:

"But after these as men more civil grew,

"He did more grave and solemn measures frame,

"With such fair order and proportion true,
"And correspondence ev'ry way the same,
"That no fault finding eye did ever blame,

"For ev'ry eye was moved at the sight,

"With sober wond'ring, and with sweet delight."
Not those young students of the heav'nly book,
Atlas the great, Prometheus the wise,
Which on the stars did all their life-time look,
Could ever find such measure in the skies,
So full of change and rare varieties;

Yet all the feet whereon, these measures go,
Are only spondees, solemn, grave, and slow.

Apelles. I will say, it is no treason to love. Campaspe. But how, if he will not suffer thee to see my person.

Apelles. Then will I gaze continually on thy picture. Campaspe. That will not feed thy heart.

Apelles. Yet shall it fill mine eye: besides the sweet thoughts, the sure hopes, thy protested faith, will cause me to embrace thy shadow continually in mine arms, of the which by strong imagination I will make a substance.

Campaspe. Well, I must be gone but this assure yourself, that I had rather be in thy shop grinding colours, than in Alexander's court, following higher fortunes. [Exit Apelles. Campaspe alone, Foolish wench, what hast thou done? that, alas! which cannot be undone, and therefore I fear me undone. O Apelles, thy love cometh from the heart, but Alexander's from the mouth. *The love of kings is like the blowing of winds, which whistle sometimes gently among the leaves, and straightways turn the trees up by the roots; or fire, which warmeth afar off, and burneth near hand; or the sea, which makes men hoise their sails in a flattering calm, and to cut their masts in a rough storm. They place affection by times, by policy, by appointment; if they frown, who dares call them unconstant? if bewray secrets, who will term them untrue? if fall to other loves, who trembles not, if he call them unfaithful? In kings there can be no love, but to queens: for as near must they meet in majesty, as they do in affection. It is requisite to stand aloof from king's love, Jove and lightning. [Exit.

* The love of kings, &c.] The author, whether accidentally or on purpose, has given no faint portrait of the conduct of King Henry VIII. in this speech. S.