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Nathaniel Lee.

ALEXANDER THE GREAT; OR, THE RIVAL QUEENS. ALEXANDER, having condemned to death LYSIMACHUS, for demanding in marriage PARISATIS, whom he had destined as the Bride of his Favourite, HEPHESTION, revokes the sentence, and awaits the presence of LYSIMACHUS at a grand Regal Banquet, where CLYTUS, a brave old Soldier, refusing to pay Divine Honours to ALEXANDER, is killed. ALEXANDER, PERDICCAS, CASSANDER, POLYPERCHON, EUMENES, discovered at a Banquet, Etc.

[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 thousand bulls be offered to the sun,

White as his beams; speak the big voice of war;
Beat all 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 Alexander! And conquest crown his arms with deathless laurels, Propitious to his friends, and all he favours.

Alex. Did I not give command you should Lysimachus?

Heph. Dread sir! you did.

Alex. What then

Portend these bloody marks?

Heph. Ere we arrived.

preserve

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.
Forth issuing from his den amazed we saw
The horrid savage, with whose hideous roar
The palace shook: his angry eye-balls, glaring
With triple fury, menaced death and ruin.

Heph. With unconcern the gallant prince advanced,
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 turned,
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 transported:
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 him a robe,

there.

Take it and wear it.

Clyt. Sir, the wine, the weather,

Has heated me: besides, 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, 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 memory: Sound all the trumpets there.

Alex. They shall not sound

'Till the king drinks. Sure I was born to wage All are my enemies,

Eternal war.

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 stole

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 pestered 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.

Alex. Sound, sound, that all the universe may hear.
[A loud flourish of trumpets.

Oh, for the voice of Jove! the world should know
The kindness of my people-Rise! oh rise!
My hands, my arms, my heart, are ever yours.

Cly. I did not kiss the earth, nor must your hand

I am unworthy, sir.

Alex. I know thou art:

Thou enviest the great honour of thy master.

Sit, all my friends. Now let us talk of war,
The noblest subject for a soldier's mouth,
And speak, speak freely, else you love me not.
Who, think you, was the greatest general
That ever led an army to the field?

Heph. A chief so great, so fortunately brave,
And justly so renowned as Alexander,

The radiant sun, since first his beams gave light,
Never yet saw.

Lys. Such was not Cyrus, or the famed Alcides,
Nor great Achilles, whose tempestuous sword
Laid Troy in ashes, though the warring gods
Opposed him.

Alex. Oh, you flatter me!

Clyt. They do, indeed, and yet you love them for't, But hate old Clytus for his hardy virtue.

Come, shall I speak a man with equal bravery,

A better general, and experter soldier?

Alex. I should be glad to learn: instruct me, sir.
Clyt. Your father, Philip-I have seen him march,
And fought beneath his dreadful banner, where
The boldest at this 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 bolder truth
Than e'er the lying priests of Ammon told you?

Philip fought men-but Alexander women.

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