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Heph. Your mercy flew too late : Perdiccas | Shall now be his, that serves me best in war :

had,
According to the dreadful charge you gave,
Already placed the prince in a lone court,
Unarmed, all but his hands, on which he wore
A pair of gauntlets; such was his desire,
To shew in death the difference betwixt
The blood of the acides, and common men.
Cly. At last the door of an old lion's den
Being drawn up, the horrid beast appeared:
The flames, which from his eyes shot glooming
red,

Made the sun start, as the spectators thought,
And round them cast a day of blood and death.
Heph. When we arrived, just as the valiant
prince

Cried out, "O Parisatis, take my life;
'Tis for thy sake I go undaunted thus,

To be devoured by this most dreadful creature.'
Cly. Then walking forward, the large beast
descried

His prey, and with a roar, that made us pale,
Flew fiercely on him; but the active prince,
Starting aside, avoided his first shock,
With a slight hurt, and as the lion turned,
Thrust gauntlet, arm and all, into his throat,
And, with Herculean force, tore forth by the roots
The foaming bloody tongue; and while the sa-

vage,

Faint with that loss, sunk to the blushing earth,
To plough it with his teeth, your conquering sol-
dier

Leaped on his back, and dashed his skull to pieces.
Aler. By all my laurels, 'twas a godlike act,
And 'tis my glory, as it shall be thine,
That Alexander could not pardon thee.

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my brave soldier, think not all the prayers Of the lamenting queens could move my soul Like what thou hast performed: Grow to my [Embraces him. Lys. However love did hurry my wild arm, When I was cool, my feverish blood did bate, And as I went to death, I blest the king.

breast.

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Neither reply, but mark the charge I give,
And live as friends-sound, sound my armies ho

nour;

Health to their bodies, and eternal fame
Wait on their memory, when those are ashes!
Live all! you must, 'tis a god gives you life.

[Sound. [Lysimachus offers Clytus a Persian robe, which he refuses.

Cly. O vanity !

Aler. Ha! what says Clytus?

Who am I ?

Cly. The son of good king Philip.
Alex. No, 'tis false;

By all my kindred in the skies,
Jove made my mother pregnant.
Cly. I have done.

[Here follows an entertainment of Indian singers
and dancers: The music flourishes.]

Alex. Hold, hold; Clytus, take the robe.
Cly. Sir, the wine,

The weather's hot; besides you know my hu

mour.

Alex. O'tis not well: I'd burn rather than be So singular and froward.

Cly. 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.

Cly. So was your father, sir-This to his me

mory:

Sound all the trumpets there.

Alex. They shall not sound

Till the king drinks-By Mars, I cannot take
A moment's rest for all my years of blood,
But one or other will oppose my pleasure.
Sure I was formed for war;

All, all are, Alexander's enemies;

Which I could tame-Yes, the rebellious world

Aler. Lysimachus, we both have been trans- | Should feel my wrath-But let the sports go on. ported,

heart;

But from this hour be certain of my
A lion be the impress of thy shield,
And that golden armour, we from Porus won,
The king presents thee: but retire to bed,
Thy toils ask rest.

Lys. I have no wounds to hinder,
Of any moment; or if I had, though mortal,
I'd stand to Alexander's health, till all
My veins were dry, and fill them up again
With that rich blood, which makes the gods im-
mortal.

Aler. Hephestion, thy hand, embrace him

close;

Though next my heart you hang, the jewel there,
For scarce I know whether my queen be nearer,
Thou shalt not rob me of my glory, youth,
That must to ages flourish--Parisatis

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Heph. Lysimachus, the king looks sad; let us I mounted, spite of showers of stones, bars, arawake him :

Health to the son of Jupiter Ammon!

Every man take his goblet in his hand,

Kneel all, and kiss the earth with adoration.

Aler. Sound, sound, that all the universe may
hear!

That I could speak like Jove, to tell abroad
The kindness of my people-Rise, O rise,
My hands, my arms, my heart is ever yours.
[Comes from his throne, all kiss his hand.
Cly. I did not kiss the earth, nor must your
hand,

I am unworthy, sir.

Aler. I know thou art,

Thou enviest my great honour-Sit, my friends;
Nay, I must have room-Now let us talk
Of war, for what more fits a soldier's mouth?
And speak, speak freely, or you do not love me,
Who, think you, was the bravest general
That ever led an army to the field?

rows,

And all the lumber, which they thundered down,
When you beneath cried out, and spread your arms,
That I should leap among you, did I so?

Lys. Turn the discourse, my lord, the old man
raved.

Alex. Was I a woman, when, like Mercury,
I left the walls to fly amongst my foes,
And, like a baited lion, dyed myself
All over with the blood of those bold hunters?
Till spent with toil, I battled on my knees,
Plucked forth the darts, that made my shield a
forest,

And hurled them back with most unconquered
fury.

Cly. Twas all bravado, for before you leaped, You saw that I had burst the gates asunder.

Aler. Did I then turn me, like a coward, round, To seek for succour? Age cannot be so base; That thou wert young again! I would put off

Heph. I think the sun himself ne'er saw a My majesty, to be more terrible,

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march,

And fought beneath his dreadful banner, where
The stoutest at the table would have trembled:
Nay, frown not, sir; you cannot look me dead.
When Greeks joined Greeks, then was the tug
of war,

The laboured battle sweat, and conquest bled.
Why should I fear to speak a truth more noble
Then e'er your father, Jupiter Ammon, told you?
Philip fought men, but Alexander women.

Aler. Spite! by the gods, proud spite! and
burning envy!

Is then my glory come to this at last,

To vanquish women? Nay, he said the stoutest here

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That, like an eagle, I might strike this hare
Trembling to earth; shake thee to dust, and tear
Thy heart for this bold lye, thou feeble dotard!
Cly. What, do you pelt me, like a boy, with
apples? [He tosses fruit at him as they rise.
Kill me, and bury the disgrace I feel!
I know the reason that you use me so,
Because I saved your life at Granicus;
And, when your back was turned, opposed my
breast

To bold Rhesaces' sword; you hate me for it,
You do, proud prince.

Alex. Away! your breath's too hot.
[Flings him from him.
Cly. You hate the benefactor, though you took
The gift, your life, from this dishonoured Clytus;
Which is the blackest, worst ingratitude.

Alex. Go, leave the banquet: Thus far I for-
give thee.

Cly. Forgive yourself for all your blasphemies, The riots of a most debauched and bloated life; Philotas' murder

Alex. Ha! What said the traitor?

Lys. Eumenes, let us force him hence.
Cly, Away!

Heph. You shall not tarry: Drag him to the
door.

Cly. No, let him send me, if I must be gone,
To Philip, Attalus, Calisthenes;

To great Parmenio, to his slaughtered sons:
Parmenio, who did many brave exploits
Without the king—the king, without him, nothing.
Alex. Give me a javelin!

Heph. Hold, sir!

[Takes one from the guards.

Alex. Off, sirrah! lest

At once I strike it through his heart and thine. Lys. O sacred sir, have but a moment's patience!

Alex. Preach patience to another lion-what,

Hold my arms? I shall be murdered here,
Like poor Darius, by my own barbarous subjects.
Perdiccas, sound my trumpets to the camp,
Call my soldiers to the court; nay haste,
For there is treason plotting against my life,
And I shall perish ere they come to rescue.
Lys. and Heph. Let us all die, ere think so
damned a deed.

Alex. Where is the traitor?

Cly. Sure there is none about you;

[Kneel.

But here stands honest Clytus, whom the king Invited to his banquet.

Alex. Begone and sup with Philip, [Strikes him through. Parmenio, Attalus, Calisthenes; And let bold subjects learn, by thy sad fate, To tempt the patience of a man much above them.

Cly. The rage of wine is drowned in gushing
blood:

O Alexander, I have been to blame ;
Hate me not after death, for I repent,
That so I urged your noblest, sweetest nature.
Alex. What's this I hear? say on, my dying
soldier.

Cly. I should have killed myself, had I but
lived

To be once sober-Now I fall with honour, My own hand would have brought foul death.— O 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,
Who for saving thy life, when

Thou foughtst bare-headed at the river Granicus,
Has now a noble recompense for speaking rashly;
For a forgetfulness, which wine did work,
The poor, the honest Clytus thou hast slain.
Are these the laws of hospitality?

Thy friends will shun thee now, and stand at distance,

Nor dare to speak their minds, nor eat with thee,
Nor drink, lest by thy madness they die too.
Heph. Guards, take the body hence.
Alex. None dare to touch him,

For we must never part. Cruel Hephestion
And Lysimachus, that had the power,
And would not hold me!

Lys. Dear sir, we did.

Alex. I know it;

Ye held me like a beast, to let me go
With greater violence-Oh you have undone me!
Excuse it not; you, that could stop a lion,
Could not turn me: You should have drawn your
swords,

And barred my rage with their advancing points;
Made reason glitter in my dazzled eyes,

Till I had seen what ruin did attend me :
That had been noble, that had shewed a friend;
Clytus would so have done to save your lives.
Lys. When men shall hear how highly you

were urged

Alex. No, you have let me stain my rising virtue, Which else had ended brighter than the sun. Death, hell, and furies! you have sunk my glory: 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. O sacred sir, that must not be. Eum. Forgive my pious hands. Lys. And mine, that dare disarm my master. Alex. Yes, cruel men, ye now can shew your

strength!

Here's not a slave but dares oppose my justice;
Yet I will render all endeavours vain,

That tend to save my life-Here I will lie[ Falls.
Close to his bleeding side, thus kissing hum;
These pale dead lips, that have so oft advised me ;
Thus bathing o'er his reverend face in tears;
Thus clasping his cold body in my arms,
Till death, like him, has made me stiff and horrid.
Heph. What shall we do?

Lys. I know not, my wounds bleed afresh With striving with him: Perdiccas, lend us your arin. [Eennt Perdiccas, Lysimachus. Heph. Call Aristander hither;

Or Meleager, let us force him from the body. Cries without-Arm! Arm! Treason, Treason! Enter PERDICCAs bloody.

Per. Haste, all take arms! Hephestion, where's the king?

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

Per. Then misery on misery will fall, Like rolling billows, to advance the storm. Rise, sacred sir, and haste to aid the queen;. Roxana, filled with furious jealousy, Came with a guard of Zogdian slaves unmasked, And broke upon me with such sudden rage, That all are perished, who resistance made:

I only with these wounds, through clashing spears, Have forced my way, to give you timely notice. Alex. What says Perdiccas? Is the queen in danger?

Per. She dies, unless you turn her fate, and

quickly:

Your distance from the place asks more speed, And the ascent to the flying grove is high."

Alex. Thus from my grave I rise to save my love, All draw your swords, with wings of lightning, move; When I rush on, sure none will dare to stay, "Tis beauty calls, and glory shews the way.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.

ACT V.

STATIRA is discovered sleeping in the bower of SEMIRAMIS; the spirits of Queen STATIRA, her Mother, and DARIUS, appear standing on each side of her, with daggers, threatening her. They sing.

Dar. Is innocence so void of cares,

That it can undisturbed sleep, Amidst the noise of horrid wars,

That make immortal spirits weep?

Stat. No boding crows, nor ravens come, To warn her of approaching doom.

Dar. She walks, as she dreams, in a garden of flowers,

And her hands are employed in the beautiful bowers;

She dreams of the man that is far from the grove,
And all her soft fancy still runs on her love.
Stat. She nods o'er the brooks, that run purling
along,

And the nightingales lull her more fast with a

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Dar. And be such another as I. Stat. As I.

Enter ROXANA, with slaves and a dagger. Ror. At length we have conquered this stu pendous height,

These flying groves, whose wonderful ascent
Leads to the clouds.

Stat. Then all the vision's true, [Retires. And I must die, lose my dear lord for ever: That, that is the murderer.

my rival?

Ror. Shut the brazen gate,
And make it fast with all the massy bars.
I know the king will fly to her relief,
But we have time enough-Where is
Appear, Statira, now no more a queen;
Roxana calls; where is your majesty?
Stat. And what is she, who with such tower-
ing pride,

Would awe a princess, that is born above her?
Rox. I like the port imperial beauty bears,
It shews thou hast a spirit fit to fall
A sacrifice to fierce Roxana's wrongs.
Be sudden then, put forth these royal breasts,
Where our false master has so often languished,
That I may change their milky innocence
To blood, and dye me in a deep revenge.

Stat. No, barbarous woman, though I durst
meet death

As boldly as our lord, with a resolve,
At which thy coward heart would tremble;
Yet I disdain to stand the fate you offer,
And therefore, fearless of thy dreadful threats,
Walk thus regardless by thee.
Ror. Ha! so stately!

Chorus. And be such another as I. [Exeunt. This sure will sink you.

STATIRA Sola.

Stat. Bless me, ye powers above, and guard my virtue!

I saw, nor was't a dream, I saw and heard
My royal parents, there I saw them stand;
My eyes beheld their precious images;

I heard their heavenly voices: Where, O where
Fled you so fast, dear shades, from my embraces?
You told me this-this hour should be my last,
And I must bleed—Away, 'tis all delusion!
Do I not wait for Alexander's coming?
None but my loving lord can enter here:
And will he kill me?-hence, fantastic shadows!
And yet methinks he should not stay thus long;
Why do I tremble thus? If I but stir,

The motion of my robes makes my heart leap.
When will the dear man come, that all my doubts
May vanish in his breast? That I may hold him
Fast as my fears can make me; hug him close
As my fond soul can wish; give all my breath
In sighs and kisses; swoon, die away with rapture!
But hark! I hear him-
[Noise within.

Fain I would hide my blushes-
I hear his tread, but dare not go to meet him.

Stat. No, Roxana, no:

The blow you give will strike me to the stars,
But sink my murderess in eternal ruin.
Ror. Who told you this?

Stat. A thousand spirits tell me :
There's not a god but whispers in my ear,
This death will crown me with immortal glory;
To die so fair, so innocent, so young,
Will make me company for queens above.
Rox. Preach on.

Stat. While you, the burden of the earth,
Fall to the deep, so heavy with thy guilt,
That hell itself must groan at thy reception;
While foulest fiends shun thy society,
And thou shalt walk alone, forsaken fury!

Rox. Heaven witness for me, I would spare
thy life,

If any thing but Alexander's love
Were in debate; come, give me back his heart,
And thou shalt live empress of all the world.

Stat. The world is less than Alexander's love,
Yet could I give it, 'tis not in my power;
This I dare promise, if you spare my life,
Which I disdain to beg, he shall speak kindly.
Ror. Speak! is that all?

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Your friend! What, must I bring you then together?

Adore your bed, and see you softly laid?
By all my pangs, and labours of my love,
This has thrown off all that was sweet and gentle.
Therefore-

Stat. Yet hold thy hand advanced in air;
I see my death is written in thy eyes.
Therefore wreak all the lust of vengeance on me,
Wash in my blood, and steep thee in my gore;
Feed like a vulture, tear my bleeding heart.
But, O Roxana! that there may appear
A glimpse of justice for thy cruelty,
A grain of goodness for a mass of evil,
Give me my death in Alexander's presence!
Ror. Not for the rule of heaven-Are you so
cunning?

What, you would have him mourn you as you fall?
Take your farewell, and taste such healing kisses,
As might call back your soul. No, thou shalt fall
Now, and when death has seized thy beauteous
limbs,

I'll have thy body thrown into a well,
Buried beneath a heap of stones for ever.

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Enter PHYSICIANS.

Stat. My cruel love, my weeping Alexander, Would I had died before you entered here! For now I ask my heart an hundred questions; What! must I lose my life, my lord, for ever?

Alex. Ha! villains, are they mortal?—what,
retire!

Raise your dashed spirits from the earth, and say,
Say she shall live, and I will make you kings.
Give me this one, this poor, this only life,
And I will pardon you for all the wounds,
Which your arts widen, all diseases, deaths,
Which your damned drugs throw through the
lingering world.

Ror. Rend not your temper; see a general

silence

Confirms the bloody pleasure, which I sought; She dies.

Alex. And darest thou, monster, `think to escape?

Stat. Life's on the wing,-my love, my lord, Come to my arms, and take the last adieu. Here let me lie, and languish out my soul.

Alex. Answer me, father, wilt thou take her from me?

What, is the black, sad hour at last arrived,
That I must never clasp her body more?
Never more bask in her eye-shine again?
Nor view the loves, that played in those dear
beams,

And shot me with a thousand thousand smiles?
Stat. Farewel, my dear, my life, my most

loved lord,

I swear by Orosmades, 'tis more pleasure,
More satisfaction that I thus die yours,
Than to have lived another's-Grant me one
thing.

Aler. All, all, but speak that I may execute Before I follow thee.

Stat. Leave not the earth

Before Heaven calls you; spare Roxana's life.
Twas love of you, that caused her give me death;
And, O! sometimes, amidst your revels, think
Of your poor queen, and ere the chearful bowl
Salute your lips, crown it with one rich tear,
And I am happy.
[Dies.

Alex. Close not thy eyes;
Thou takest thy journey :-Tell the gods I'm
Things of import I have to speak before
coming,

To give them an account of life and death,
And many other hundred thousand policies,
That much concern the government of heaven-
O she is gone! the talking soul is mute!
She's hushed, no voice of music now is heard!
The bower of beauty is more still than death;
The roses fade, and the melodious bird,
That waked their sweets, has left them now for

ever.

Rox. 'Tis certain now you never shall enjoy her;

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