Must I be doomed to wretchedness and wo, For sixty rolling years my soul has stood The dread vicissitudes of fate unmoved; I thought them your decrees, and therefore yielded; Lys. When Sysigambis mourns, no common wo Can be the cause-'tis misery indeed! Yet pardon, mighty queen! a wretched prince, Heph. A blessing like the beauteous Parisatis Which seeks the happiness of her we love, : Heph. Such arrogance, did Alexander woo, Would lose him all the conquests he has won. Lys. To talk of conquests well becomes the man, 4 Whose life and sword are but his rival's gift! Sys. It grieves me, brave Lysimachus, to find My power fall short of my desires to serve you: You know Hephestion first declared 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. Lys. 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 favourite, And casts Lysimachus at such a distance. [Exit. Sys. 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. Sys. I would shun him: Something there is, I know not why, that shocks me, Something my nature shrinks at when I see him. Enter CASSAnder. [Exeunt. Cas. The face of day now blushes scarlet deep, All nature seems alarmed for Alexander. : Why, be it so her pangs proclaim my triumph. B 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, with a Packet. How now? dear Thessalus? what packet's that? Thes. From Macedon; a trusty slave just brought it. Your father chides us for our cold delay; Or quit our purpose, and confess our fears. Cas. 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, Winged as the lightning, it would ask some moments, Ere I could blast the growth of this Colossus. Thes. Mark where the haughty Polyperchon comes ! Some new affront, by Alexander given, Swells in his heart, and stings him into madness. ours: His haughty soul will kindle at his wrongs, Enter POLYPERCHON. Poly. Still as I pass, fresh murmurs fill my ears; All talk of wrongs, and mutter their complaints. Poor soulless reptiles !-their revenge expires In idle threats-the fortitude of cowards! Their province is to talk; 'tis mine to act, And show this tyrant, when he dar'd to wrong me, He wrong'd a man, whose attribute is vengeance. Cas. All nations bow their heads with servile ho mage, 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 Heaven! The earth's commanders fawn like crouching spaniels ; And if this hunter of the barbarous world Poly. I fawn or echo him! Cassander, no; my soul disdains the thought! False to that honour, which thro' fields of death Thes. The king may doom me to a thousand tortures, Ply me with fire, and rack me like Philotas, Cas. Not Aristander, had he rais'd all hell, Could 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, The torments of the damn'd? Oh! death to think it! 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 And plung'd a thousand daggers in his heart. Cas. At our last banquet, when the bowl had gone The giddy round, and wine inflam'd my spirits, Their idol god: 'Hail, son of thund'ring Jove! Poly. Thus, when I mock'd the Persians that ador'd him, He struck me on the face, swung me round, Cas. There spoke the spirit of Calisthenes. A sword has pierc'd him, and the blood has follow'd, |