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Alex. Sirrah | off,
Lys. Oh, sacred sir I have but a nioment's patience.
here, Like poor
Darius by my barb'rous subjects.
Clyt. Sure there is none amongst us,
[Stabs hitr. And let bold subjects learn by thy example Not to provoke the patience of their prince.
Clyt. The rage of wine is drown'd in gushing blood Oh Alexander ! I have been to blame : llate me not after death; for I' repent That I so far have urg'd your noble nature.
Alex. What's this I hear I 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,
The bravest soldier, he who sav'd thy life,
Heph. Remove the body, it inflames his sorrow.
Alex. None dare to touch him : we must never parto Cruel Hephestion and Lysimachus, That had the pow'r, yet would not hold me. Oh!
Lys. Dear sir, we did.
Alex. I know ye did ; yet held me Like a wild beast, to let me go again With greater violence.—Oh, ye have undone me ! Excuse it not; you that could stop a lion Could not turn mel ye should have drawn your swords, And barr'd my rage with their advancing points, Made reason glitter in my dazzled eyes Till I had seen the precipice before me: That had been noble, that had shown the friend ; Clytus would so have done to save your lives. Lys. When men shall hear how highly you were
urg'd Alex. No; you have let me stain my rising glory, Which else had ended brighter than the sun., Oh! I am all a blot, which seas of tears And my heart's blood can never wash away! Yet 't is but just I try, and on the point Still reeking hurl my black polluted breast. Heph. Oh, sacred sir I-it shall not-must not be.
Lys. Forgive, dread sir l-forgive my pious hands,
[Falls on Clytus. Close to my murder'd soldier's bleeding side; Thus clasping his cold body in my arms 'Till death like his has clos'd my eyes for ever.
Enter PerdiCCAS. Per. Treason I foul treason! Hephestion, where 's
the king ? Heph. There, by old Clytus' side, whom he hath slain.
Per. Rise, sacred sir! and haste to save the queen. Roxana filled with furious jealousy, Came with a guard unmark’d; she gain’d the bow'r, And broke upon me with such sudden fury That all have perish'd who oppos’d her rage.
Alex. What says Perdiccas ? is the queen in danger? Per. Haste, sir, or she dies.
Alex. Thus from the grave I rise to save my love : All draw your swords, on wings of lightning move, Young Ammon leads you, and the cause is love. When I rush on sure none will dare to stay; 'Tis beauty calls, and glory leads the way. [Excunt.
ACT V. SCENE 1.
The Bower of Semiramis.--STATIRA discovered,
Statira. Bless me, ye pow'rs above, and guard my virtue ! Where are you fed, dear shades? where are you fed? 'Twas but a dream, and yet I saw and heard My royal parents, who, while pious care Sat on their faded cheeks, pronounc'd with tears, Tears such as angels weep, this hour my last. But hence with fear--my Alexander comes,, And fear and danger ever fled from him. Wou'd that he were here ! For oh, I tremble, and a thousand terrors Rush in upon me and alarm my heart! But hark | 't is he, and all my fears are fled : My life, my joy, my Alexander, comes ! Rox. [Within.] Make fast the gate with all its massy
bars : At length we’ave conquered this stupendous height, And reach'd the grove.
Stat. Ye guardian gods defend mel Roxana's voicel then all the vision 's true, And die I must.
Stat. And what is she who with such tow'ring pride Would awe a princess that is born above her?
Rox. Behold this dagger! 't is thy fate Statiral Behold, and meet it as becomes a queen. Fain would I find thee worthy of my vengeance ; Here, take my weapon then, and if thou dar’st
Stat. How little know'st thou what Statira dares !
Rox. Return, fair insolent I return, I say :
Stat. Alas, Roxana I 't is not in my pow'r;
Rox. Oh, sorceress! to thy accursed charms
Stat. Yet think, Roxana, ere you plunge in murder, Think on the horrors that must ever haunt you ; Think on the furies, those avenging ministers Of Heaven's high wrath, how they will tear your soul,