Manes. Master, you know a while ago I ran away; so do I mean to do again, quia scio tibi non esse argentum.1

Diog. I know I have no money, neither will I have ever a man; for I was resolved long sithence to put away both my slaves, money and Manes.

Manes. So was I determined to shake off both my dogs, hunger and Diogenes.

Psyllus. O sweet consent3 between a crowd' and a Jew's harp.

Gran. Come, let us reconcile them. Psyllus. It shall not need, for this is their use, now do they dine one upon another.

[Exit Diogenes. Gran. How now, Manes, art thou gone from thy master?

Manes. No, I did but now bind myself to him. Psyllus. Why, you are at mortal jars.

Manes. In faith no; we brake a bitter jest one upon another.

Gran. Why, thou art as dogged as he.
Psyllus. My father knew them both little whelps.
Manes. Well, I will hie me after my master.
Gran. Why, is it supper time with Diogenes?
Manes. Ay, with him at all time when he hath

1 'Because I know you've got no money.'
2'since.'
3 consent-harmony.

+ Crowd-a musical instrument like a fiddle, with six strings; Welsh cruth-a bulge, a fiddle; Gael, cruita bunch, fiddle.

3 Possibly this may be meant as an alehouse motto or sign; ala should be ala, and the literal translation is, 'There is no need of hanging ivy over saleable ale;' or more freely rendered, Good wine needs no bush.' The iry was sacred to Bacchus, and formerly used to be painted over tavern doors as a sign, as the spruce is in Germany at the present day.

7

I look upon you as my father.'

Dodsley says that this simile perhaps occurs more frequently in our old writers than any other.

Alex. Well, now shalt thou see what small difference I make between Alexander and Hephestion. And sith thou hast been always partaker of my triumphs, thou shalt be partaker of my torments. I love, Hephestion, I love! I love Campaspe, a thing far unfit for a Macedonian, for a king, for Alexander. Why hangest thou down thy head, Hephestion? Blushing to hear that which I am not ashamed to tell?

Hep. Might my words crave pardon and my counsel credit, I would both discharge the duty of a subject, for so I am, and the oflice of a friend, for so I will.

Alex. Speak, Hephestion; for whatsoever is spoken, Hephestion speaketh to Alexander.

Hep. I cannot tell, Alexander, whether the report be more shameful to be heard, or the cause sorrowful to be believed? What! is the son of Philip, king of Macedon, become the subject of Campaspe, the captive of Thebes? Is that mind, whose greatness the world could not contain, drawn within the compass of an idle alluring eye? Will you handle the spindle with Hercules, when you should shake the spear with Achilles? Is the warlike sound of drum and trump turned to the soft noise of lyre and lute? the neighing of barbed steeds, whose loudness filled the air with terror, and whose breaths dimmed the sun with smoke, converted to delicate tunes and amorous glances? O Alexander! that soft and yielding mind should not be in him, whose hard and unconquered heart hath made so many yield. But you love,-ah grief! but whom? Campaspe?-ah shame! a maid forsooth unknown, unnoble, and who can tell whether immodest? whose eyes are framed by art to enamour, and whose heart was made by nature to enchant. Ay, but she is beautiful; yea, but not therefore chaste: ay, but she is comely in all parts of the body; but she may be crooked in some part of the mind: ay, but she is wise; yea, but she is a woman: beauty is like the blackberry, which seemeth red, when it is not ripe, resembling precious stones that are polished with honey, which the smoother they look, the sooner they break. It is thought wonderful among the sea-men, that Mugill, of all fishes the swiftest, is found in the belly of the Bret, of all the slowest and shall it not seem monstrous to wise men that the heart of the greatest conqueror of the world should be found in the hands of the weakest creature of nature? of a woman? of a captive? Hermyns have fair skins, but foul livers; sepulchres fresh colours, but rotten bones; women fair faces, but false hearts. Remember, Alexander, thou hast a camp to govern, not a chamber; fall not from the armour of Mars to the arms of Venus; from the fiery assaults of war, to the maidenly skirmishes of love; from displaying the eagle in thine ensign, to set down the sparrow. I sigh, Alexander, that where fortune could not conquer, folly should overcome. But behold all the perfection that may be in Campaspe: a hair curling by nature, not art; sweet, alluring eyes; a fair face made in despite of Venus, and a stately port in disdain of Juno; a wit apt to conceive, and quick to answer; a skin as soft as silk, and as

smooth as jet; a long white hand, a fine little foot; to conclude, all parts answerable to the best part; what of this? Though she have heavenly gifts, virtue and beauty, is she not of earthly metal, flesh and blood? You, Alexander, that would be a god, show yourself in this worse than a man, so soon to be both overseen and overtaken in a woman, whose false tears know their true times, whose smooth words wound deeper than sharp swords. There is no surfeit so dangerous as that of honey, nor any poison so deadly as that of love; in the one physic cannot prevail, nor in the other counsel.3

Alex. My case were light, Hephestion, and not worthy to be called love, if reason were a remedy, or sentences could salve, that sense cannot conceive. Little do you know, and therefore slightly do you regard the dead embers in a private person, or live coals in a great prince, whose passions and thoughts do as far exceed others in extremity as their callings do in majesty. An eclipse in the sun is more than the falling of a star: none can conceive the torments of a king, unless he be a king, whose desires are not inferior to their dignities. And then judge, Hephestion, if the agonies of love be dangerous in a subject, whether they be not more than deadly unto Alexander, whose deep and not-to-be-conceived sighs cleave the heart in shivers, whose wounded thoughts can neither be expressed nor endured. Cease then, Hephestion, with arguments to seek to refell that which with their deity the gods cannot resist; and let this suffice to answer thee, that it is a king that loveth, and Alexander; whose affections are not to be measured by reason, being immortal; nor, I fear me, to be borne, being intolerable.

Hep. I must needs yield, when neither reason nor counsel can be heard.

Alex. Yield, Hephestion, for Alexander doth love, and therefore must obtain.

Hep. Suppose she loves not you; affection cometh not by appointment or birth; and then, as good hated as enforced.

Alex. I am a king, and will command. Hep. You may, to yield to lust by force; but to consent to love by fear, you cannot.

Alex. Why, what is that which Alexander may not conquer as he list?

Hep. Why, that which you say the gods cannot resist-love.

Alex. I am a conqueror, she a captive; I as fortunate as she fair. My greatness may answer her wants, and the gifts of my mind the modesty of hers. Is it not likely, then, that she should love? Is it not reasonable?

Hep. You say that in love there is no reason, and therefore there can be no likelihood.

Alex. No more, Hephestion; in this case I will use mine own counsel, and in all other thine advice. Thou may'st be a good soldier, but never good lover. Call my page. [Enter page.] Sirrah, go presently to Apelles, and will him to come to me without either delay or excuse.

Page. I go.

Alex. In the mean season, to recreate my spirits, being so near, we will go see Diogenes. And see where his tub is.-Diogenes!

Diog. Who calleth?

Alex. Alexander. How happened it that you would not come out of your tub to my palace? Diog. Because it was as far from my tub to your palace, as from your palace to my tub. Alex. Why, then, dost thou owe no reverence to kings? Diog. No.

Alex. Why so?

Diog. Because they be no gods.
Alex. They be gods of the earth.
Diog. Yea, gods of earth.
Alex. Plato is not of thy mind.
Diog. I am glad of it.
Alex. Why?

Diog. Because I would have none of Diogenes' mind, but Diogenes.

Alex. If Alexander have anything that may pleasure Diogenes, let me know, and take it. Diog. Then take not from me that you cannot give me-the light of the world.

Alex. What dost thou want?
Diog. Nothing that you have.
Alex. I have the world at command.
Diog. And I in contempt.

Alex. Thou shalt live no longer than I will.
Diog. But I shall die whether you will or no.
Alex. How should one learn to be content?
Diog. Unlearn to covet.

Alex. Hephestion, were I not Alexander, I would wish to be Diogenes.

Hep. He is dogged, but discreet; I cannot tell how sharp, with a kind of sweetness; full of wit, yet too wayward.

Alex. Diogenes, when I come this way again, I will both see thee and confer with thee. Diog. Do.

Alex. But here cometh Apelles.-How now, Apelles; is Venus' face yet finished?

Apel. Not yet; beauty is not so soon shadowed, whose perfection cometh not within the compass either of cunning or of colour.

Alex. Well, let it rest unperfect, and come you with me, where I will show you that finished by nature that you have been trifling about by art.

ACT III.-SCENE I. APELLES, CAMPASPE.

Apel. Lady, I doubt whether there be any colour so fresh, that may shadow a countenance so fair.

Camp. Sir, I had thought you had been commanded to paint with your hand, not to glose with your tongue; but, as I have heard, it is the hardest thing in painting to set down a hard favour, which maketh you to despair of my face; and then shall you have as great thanks to spare your labour as to discredit your art.

Apel. Mistress, you neither differ from yourself nor your sex; for, knowing your own perfection, you seem to dispraise that which men most commend, drawing them by that mean into an admiration, where, feeding themselves, they fall into an ecstasy; your modesty being the cause of the one, and of the other, your affections.5

Camp. I am too young to understand your

1 In some editions there is a semicolon after how. 2 shadowed-depicted.

3 glose-flatter; generally said to be allied to glossexplain; but in meaning rather connected with glossglitter; polish.

A favour-look or countenance.

Dodsley (ed. 1744) reads perfections.

Psyllus. It is always my master's fashion, when any fair gentlewoman is to be drawn within, to make me to stay without. But if he should paint Jupiter like a bull, like a swan, like an eagle, then must Psyllus with one hand grind colours, and with the other hold the candle. But let him alone; the better he shadows her face, the more will he burn his own heart. And now, if any man could meet with Manes, who, I dare say, looks as lean as if Diogenes dropped out of his

nose

Manes. And here comes Manes, who hath as much meat in his maw as thou hast honesty in thy head.

Psyllus. Then I hope thou art very hungry. Manes. They that know thee know that. Psyllus. But dost thou not remember that we have certain liquor to confer3 withal?

Manes. Ay, but I have business; I must go cry a thing.

Psyllus. Why, what hast thou lost?

Manes. That which I never had-my dinner! Fsyllus. Foul lubber, wilt thou cry for thy diumer?

Manes. I mean, I must cry; not as one would say cry, but cry, that is, make a noise.

Psyllus. Why, fool, that is all one; for if thou cry, thou must needs make a noise.

Manes. Boy, thou art deceived: Cry hath divers significations, and may be alluded to many things; knave but to one, and can be applied

but to thee.

Psyllus. Profound Manes!

Manes. We Cynics are mad fellows; didst thou not find I did quip thee?

Psyllus. No, verily; why, what's a quip? Manes. We great girders call it a short saying of a sharp wit, with a bitter sense in a sweet word.

Payllus. How canst thou thus divine, divide, define, dispute, and all on the sudden?

Manes. Wit will have his swing; I am bewitched, inspired, inflamed, infected.

Psyllus. Well, then will I not tempt thy gibing spirit.

Manes. Do not, Psyllus, for thy dull head will be but a grindstone for my quick wit, which, if thou whet with overthwarts, periisti, actum est de te. I have drawn blood at one's brains with a bitter bob.10

Psyllus. Let me cross myself, for I die if I

cross thee.

Manes. Let me do my business; I myself am afraid lest my wit should wax warm, and then must it needs consume some hard head with fine and pretty jests. I am sometimes in such a vein, that for want of some dull pate to work on, I begin to gird' myself.

Psyllus. The gods shield me from such a fine fellow, whose words melt wits like wax!

Manes. Well, then, let us to the matter. In faith, my master meaneth to-morrow to fly. Psyllus. It is a jest.

Manes. Is it a jest to fly? should'st thou fly so soon, thou should'st repent it in earnest. Psyllus. Well, I will be the cryer.

Manes and Psyllus, one after another. Oycz, Oyez, Oyez, All manner of men, women, or children, that will come to-morrow into the marketplace, between the hours of nine and ten, shall see Diogenes, the Cynic, fly.

Psyllus. I do not think he will fly.
Manes. Tush! say fly.3
Psyllus. Fly.

Manes. Now let us go, for

will not see him

again till midnight. I have a back way into his

tub.

Psyllus. Which way callest thou the back way, when every way is open?

Manes. I mean to come in at his back. Psyllus. Well, let us go away, that we may return speedily. [Exeunt.

ACT III.-SCENE III.

APELLES, CAMPASPE.

Apel. I shall never draw your eyes well, because they blind mine.

Camp. Why then, paint me without eyes, for I am blind.

Apel. Were you ever shadowed before of any? Camp. No. And would you could so now shadow me that I might not be perceived of any. should furnish Venus's temple amongst these Apel. It were pity but that so absolute a face pictures.

Camp. What are these pictures?

Apel. This is Læda, whom Jove deceived in

likeness of a swan.

Camp. A fair woman, but a foul deceit. Apel. This is Alcmena, unto whom Jupiter came in shape of Amphitrion, her husband, and begat Hercules.

Camp. A famous son, but an infamous fact. Apel. He might do it because he was a god. Camp. Nay, therefore it was evil done, because he was a god.

Apel. This is Darde, into whose prison Jupiter drizzled a golden shower, and obtained his desire. Camp. What gold can make one yield to desire? Apel. This is Europa, whom Jupiter ravished; this Antiopa.

Camp. Were all the gods like this Jupiter? Apel. There were many gods in this like Jupiter.

Camp. I think, in those days, love was well ratified among men on earth, when lust was so full authorized by the gods in heaven.

Apel. Nay, you may imagine there were women

D

passing amiable when there were gods exceeding

amorous.

Camp. Were women never so fair. men would be false.

Apel. Were women never so false, men would be fond.

Camp. What counterfeit is this, Apolles? Apel. This is Venus, the goddess of love. Camp. What! be there also loving goddesses? Apel. This is she that hath power to command the very affections of the heart.

Camp. How is she hired? by prayer, by sacrifice, or bribes?

Apel. By prayer, sacrifice, and bribes.
Camp. What prayer?

Apel. Vows irrevocable.
Camp. What sacrifice?

Apel. Hearts ever sighing; never dissembling.
Camp. What bribes?

Apel. Roses and kisses. But were you never

in love?

Camp. No; nor love in me.

Apel. Then have you injured many!
Camp. How so?

Apel. Because you have been loved of many. Camp. Flattered, perchance, of some. Apel. It is not possible that a face so fair and a wit so sharp, both without comparison, should not be apt to love.

Camp. If you begin to tip your tongue with cunning, pray dip your pencil in colours, and fall to that you must do, not that you would do.

ACT III-SCENE IV.

CLYTUS, PARMENIO, ALEXANDER, HEPESTION, CRYSUS, DIOGENES, APELLES, CAMPASPE. Clytus. Parmenio, I cannot tell how it cometh to pass that in Alexander, now-a-days, there groweth an unpatient kind of life: in the morning he is melancholy, at noon solemn, at all times either more sour or severe than he was accustomed.

Par. In king's causes, I rather love to doubt than conjecture, and think it better to be ignorant than inquisitive. They have long ears and stretched arms in whose head suspicion is a proof, and to be accused is to be condemned.

Clytus. Yet, between us, there can be no danger to find out the cause, for that there is no malice to withstand it. It may be an unquenchable thirst of conquering maketh him unquiet: it is not unlikely his long ease hath altered his humour. That he should be in love, it is not impossible.

Par. In love, Clytus? No, no; it is as far from his thought as treason in ours: he, whose ever waking eye, whose never tired heart, whose body patient of labour, whose mind unsatiable of victory hath always been noted, cannot so soon be melted into the weak conceits of love. Aristotle told him there were many worlds, and that he hath not conquered one that gapeth for all, galleth Alexander. But here he cometh.

Alex. Parmenio and Clytus, I would have you both ready to go into Persia about an ambassage,2 no less profitable to me than to yourselves honourable.

Clytus. We are ready at all commands; wishing nothing else but continually to be commanded.

Alex. Well, then, withdraw yourselves till I have further considered of this matter. [Exeunt Clytus and Parmenio.] Now we will see how

1 counterfeit-picture or portrait.

about an ambassage-cn an embassy, or business.

Apelles goeth forward: I doubt me that nature hath overcome art, and her countenance his cunning.

Hp. You love, and therefore think anything. Alex. But not so far in love with Campaspe as with Bucephalus, if occasion serve either of conflict or of conquest.

Hep. Occasion cannot want, if will do not. Behold all Persia swelling in the pride of their own power; the Scythians careless what courage or fortune can do: the Egyptians dreaming in the soothsayings of their augurs, and gaping over the smoke of their beasts' entrails. All thes, Alexander, are to be subdued, if that world bo not slipped out of your head, which you have sworn to conquer with that hand.

Alex. I confess the labour's fit for Alexander, and yet recreation necessary among so many assaults, bloody wounds, intolerable troubles: give me leave a little, if not to sit, yet to breathe. And doubt not but Alexander can, when he will, throw affections as far from him as he can cowardice. But behold Diogenes talking with one at his tub!

Crysus. One penny. Diogenes; I am a Cynic. Diog. He made thee a beggar that first gavo thee anything.

Crysus. Why, if thou wilt give nothing, nobody will give thee.

Diog. I want nothing till the springs dry and the earth perish.

Crysus. I gather for the gods.

Diog. And I care not for those gods which want money.

Crysus. Thou art not a right Cynic that will give nothing.

Diog. Thou art not, that wilt beg anything. Crysus. Alexander, King Alexander, give a poor Cynic a great.

Alex. It is not for a king to give a groat.
Crysus. Then give me a talent.

Alex. It is not for a beggar to ask a talent. Away.-Apelles!

Apel. Here.

Alex. Now gentlewoman? doth your beaut put the painter to his trump??

Camp. Yes, my lord, seeing so disordered a countenance, he feareth he shall shadow a deformed counterfeit.

Alex. Would he could colour the life with the feature. And, methinketh, Apelles, were you as cunning as report saith you are, you may paint flowers as well with sweet smells as fresh colours. observing in your mixture such things as should draw near to their savours.

Apel. Your Majesty must know it is no less hard to paint savours than virtues: colours ca'. neither speak nor think.

Alex. Where do you first begin when you draw any picture?

Apel. The proportion of the face in just compass, as I can.

Alex. I would begin with the ere, as a light to

all the rest.

Apel. If you will paint, as you are a king, your Majesty may begin where you please; but, as you would be a painter, you must begin with the face. Alex. Aurelius would in one hour colour four faces.

Apel. I marvel in half an hour he did not four.

1 Alluding to the method of angury by inspection of the entrails of animals.

2 put the painter to his trump-make him play his trump card, i.e. put him to his last push.

3 shadow, &c.-paint an untrue likeness.

4 colour the life, &c.-paint the features to the life.