And stoop to thee, thou moving piece of earth? Whose life, in spite of all his wrongs to me, Cas. By your own life, the greatest oath,' I swear Poly. The bow'rs of great Semiramis are made The scene of love; Perdiccas holds the guard. Cas. Now is your time, while Alexander revels, And the whole court re-echoes with his riot, To end her, and with her to end your fears. Give me but half the Zogdian slaves that wait you, And deem her dead; nor shall a soul escape, That serves your rival, to disperse the news. Ror. By me they die, Perdiccas and Statira; Hence with thy aid, I neither ask nor want it, But will myself conduct the slaves to battle. Were she to fall by any arm but mine, Well might she murmur, and arraign her stars. Rival, rejoice, and pleased resign thy breath; Roxana's vengeance grants thee noble death. [Exit. Cas. All but her Jove, this Semele disdains. We must be quick-she may perhaps betray The great design, and frustrate our revenge. Poly. Has Philip got instructions how to act? Cas. He has, my friend, and, faithful to our cause, Resolves to execute the fatal order. Bear him this vial-it contains a poison Of that exalted force, that deadly nature, Poly. I know its power, for I have seen it tried ; The soul consent to leave her joyless home, Cas. Now let us part: with Thessalus and Philip Haste to the banquet; at his second call, Let this be given him; and it crowns our hopes. Now, Alexander, now, we'll soon be quits; [Exit. SCENE II. The Palace. ALEXANDER, CASSANDER, POLYPERCHON, EUMENes, discovered at a Banquet, &c.—A Flourish of Trumpets. Alex. To our immortal health and our fair queen's: All drink it deep; and while the bowl goes round, Mars and Bellona join to make us music; A hundred bulls be offered to the sun, White as his beams; speak the big voice of war; Beat al our drums, and sound our silver trumpets; Provoke the gods to follow our example, [Flourish of Trumpets. Enter CLYTUS, HEPHESTION, and LYSIMACHUS, bloody Clyt. Long live the king! long live great Alex ander! And conquest crown his arms with deathless laurels, Heph. Dread sir, you did. Aler. What then Portend these bloody marks? Heph. Ere we arrived Perdiccas had already placed the prince In a lone court, all but his hands unarmed. Clyt. On them were gauntlets; such was his desire, In death to show the difference betwixt Heph. With unconcern the gallant prince ad vanced. Now, Parisatis, be the glory thine, But mine the danger, were his only words; Clyt. Agile and vigorous, he avoids the shock, Foaming and bloody, the disabled savage Sunk to the earth, and ploughed it with his teeth; While with an active bound your conquering soldier Leaped on his back, and dashed his skull in pieces. Alex. By all my laurels 'twas a godlike act! And 'tis my glory, as it shall be thine, Oh, my brave soldier! think not all the prayers How shall I stand such unexampled goodness? Even when I showed the greatest want of reverence, But from this hour be certain of my heart. And that gold armour we from Porus won, rest. Lys. I have no wounds, dread sir! or, if I had, Were they all mortal, they should stream unminded, When Alexander was the glorious health. Alex. Thy hand, Hephestion: clasp him to thy heart, And wear him ever near thee. Parisatis Shall now be his who serves me best in war. Live, live as friends-you will, you must, you shall: 'Tis a god gives you life. Clyt. Oh, monstrous vanity! Alex. Ha! what says Clytus? who am I? Clyt. The son of good King Philip. Alex. By my kindred gods, 'Tis false. Great Ammon gave me birth. Clyt. I've done. Alex. Clytus, what means that dress? Give hi robe there; Take it, and wear it. Clyt. Sir, the wine, the weather has heated meBesides, you know my humour. Alex. Oh! 'tis not well! I'd rather perish, burn, Than be so singular and froward. Clyt. So would I Burn, hang, or drown, but in a better cause. 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. Clyt. So was your father, sir; this to his me mory: Sound all the trumpets there. Alex. They shall not sound Till the king drinks. Sure I was born to wage Whom I could tame-But let the sports go on. From hell, and mingled with the mirth of gods. 'Twixt them and devils-Fill me Greek wine-yetYet fuller-I want spirits. Alex. Let me have music. Clyt. Music for boys-Clytus would hear the groans Of dying soldiers, and the neigh of steeds; |