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 wellAlex. 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-yet— Yet 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 sack'd towns.
Heph. Let us, Lysimachus, awake the king;
A heavy gloom is gath'ring 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.
Clyt. 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 renow'd, as Alexander

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

Lys. Such was not Cyrus, or the fam'd Alcides,
Nor great Achilles, whose tempestuous sword
Laid Troy in ashes, tho' the warring gods
Oppos'd 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 join'd Greeks then was the tug of war!
The labour'd 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.

Alex. All envy, spite and envy, by the gods!
Is then my glory come to this at last

To conquer women! Nay, he said the stoutest,
The stoutest here, would tremble at his dangers.
In all the sickness, all the wounds, I bore,
When from my reins the jav'lin's head was cut,
Lysimachus, Hephestion, speak Perdiccas,
Did I once tremble? Or, the cursed falsehood!
Did I once shake or groan, or act beneath
The dauntless resolution of a king?
Lys. Wine has transported him.

Alex. No, 't is mere malice.

I was a woman too at Oxydrace,

When planting on the walls a scaling ladder
I mounted, spite of showers of stones, bars, arrows,
And all the lumber which they thunder'd down.
When you beneath cry'd out, and spread your arms,
That I should leap among you-did I so?

Lys. Dread sir! the old man knows not what he says.
Alex. Was I woman when, like Mercury,

I leap'd the walls and flew amidst the foe,
And like a baited lion dy'd myself

All over in the blood of those bold hunters;

'Till spent with toil I battled on my knees,

Pluck'd forth the darts that made my shield a forest,
And hurl'd 'em back with most unconquer'd fury,
Then shining in my arms I sunn'd the field,
Mov'd, spoke, and fought, and was myself a war.
Clyt. 'Twas all bravado; for before you leap'd
You saw that I had burst the gates asunder.

Alex. Oh, that thou wert but once more young and vig'rous I

That I might strike thee prostrate to the earth,
For this audacious lie, thou feebled dotard!

Clyt. I know the reason why you use me thus:
I sav'd you from the sword of bold Rhesaces,
Else had your godship slumber'd in the dust,
And most ungratefully you hate me for it.
Alex. Hence from the banquet: thus far I forgive
thee.

Clyt. First

try (for none can want forgiveness more) To have your own bold blasphemies forgiv❜n, The shameful riots of a vicious life,

Philotas' murder

Alex. Hal what said the traitor?

Heph. Clytus, withdraw; Eumenes, force him hence: He must not tarry: drag him to the door.

Clyt. No, let him send me if I must be gone,

To Philip, Atalaus, Calisthenes,

To great Parmenio, and his slaughter'd sons.
Alex. Give me a javelin.

Heph. Hold, mighty sir!

G

Alex. Sirrah! off,

Lest at once strike thro' his heart and thine.

Lys. Oh, sacred sir! have but a nioment's patience. Alex. What! hold my arms? I shall be murder'd here,

Like poor Darius by my barb'rous subjects.
Perdiccas, sound our trumpets to the camp;
Call all my soldiers to the court: nay, haste,
For there is treason plotting 'gainst my life,
And I shall perish ere they come to save me.
Where is the traitor ?

Clyt. Sure there is none amongst us,
But here I stand-honest Clytus,

Whom the king invited to the banquet.

Alex. Begone to Philip, Atalaus, Calisthenes

And let bold subjects learn by thy example

Not to provoke the patience of their prince.

[Stabs him.

Clyt. The rage of wine is drown'd in gushing blood Oh Alexander! I have been to blame:

Hate me not after death; for I repent

That I so far have urg'd your noble nature.

Alex. What's this I hear say on, my dying soldier. Clyt. I should have kill'd myself had I but liv'd To be once sober-Now I fall with honour; My own hands would have brought foul death. Oh, pardon! [Dies.

Alex. Then I am lost: what has my vengeance done! Who is it thou hast slain? Clytus what was he? The faithfullest subject, worthiest counsellor,