And stoop to thee, thou moving piece of earth?
Hence from my sight, and never more presume
To meet my eyes; for, mark me, if thou dar'st,
To Alexander I'll unfold thy treason,

Whose life, in spite of all his wrongs to me,
Shall still be sacred, and above thy malice.

Cas. By your own life, the greatest oath,' I swear
Cassander's passion from this hour is dumb
b;
And as the best atonement I can make
Statira dies, the victim of your vengeance.
Rox. Cassander rise; 'tis ample expiation.
Yes, rival, yes-
-this night shall be thy last;
This night I know is destined for thy triumph
And gives my Alexander to thy arms.
Oh, murd'rous thought!

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,
Should Esculapius drink it, in five hours
(For then it works) the god himself were mortal :
I drew it from Nonacris' horrid spring;
Mixed with his wine a single drop gives death,
And sends him howling to the shades below.

Poly. I know its power, for I have seen it tried ;
Pains of all sorts thro' ev'ry nerve and art'ry,
At once it scatters-burns at once, and freezes;
Till, by extremity of torture forc'd,

The soul consent to leave her joyless home,
And seek for ease in worlds unknown to this.

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.
[Exit POLYPERchon,

Now, Alexander, now, we'll soon be quits;
Death for a blow is interest indeed.

[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,
In bowls of nectar, and replying thunder.

[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,
Propitious to his friends, and all he favours.
Alex. Did I not give command vou should pre-
serve Lysimachus?

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
The blood of Eacus and common men.

Heph. With unconcern the gallant prince ad

vanced.

Now, Parisatis, be the glory thine,

But mine the danger, were his only words;
For, as he spoke, the furious beast descried him
And rushed outrageous to devour his prey.

Clyt. Agile and vigorous, he avoids the shock,
With a slight wound, and as the lion turn'd,
Thrust gauntlet, arm and all into his throat,
And, with Herculean strength, tears forth the
tongue :

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,
That Alexander could not pardon thee.

Oh, my brave soldier! think not all the prayers
And tears of the lamenting queens could move me
Like what thou hast performed: grow to my breast.
Lys. Thus, self-condemned, and conscious of my
guilt,

How shall I stand such unexampled goodness?
Oh, pardon, sir, the transports of despair,
The frantic outrage of ungoverned love!

Even when I showed the greatest want of reverence,
I could have died with rapture in your service.
Alex. Lysimachus, we both have been trans-
ported:

But from this hour be certain of my heart.
A lion be the impress of thy shield;

And that gold armour we from Porus won,
Thy king presents thee- -But thy wounds ask

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.
Neither reply, but mark the charge I give;

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.
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.

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
Eternal war.
All are my enemies,

Whom I could tame-But let the sports go on.
Lys. Nay, Clytus, you that could advise so well-
Alex. Let him persist, be positive, and proud,
Envious and sullen, 'mongst the nobler souls,
Like an infernal spirit, that hath stolen

From hell, and mingled with the mirth of gods.
Clyt. When gods grow hot, no difference I
know,

'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;
Or, if I must be pester'd with shrill sounds,
Give me the cries of matrons in sacked towns.
Heph. Let us, Lysimachus, awake the king;
A heavy gloom is gathering on his brow.
Kneel all, with humblest adoration kneel,
And let a health to Jove's great son go round.