You say you' ve pardon'd, but with this reserve,
Never again to bless me with your love.
Stat. Allseeing Heaven support me !
Alex. Speak to me, love; tho' banishment and death
Hang on thy lips, yet while thy tongue pronounces
The music will a while suspend my pains,
And mitigate the horrors of despair.
Oh, could I see you thus ?
Stat. His sorrows wound my heart,
Soft pity pleads, and I again must love him;
But I have sworn, and therefore cannot yield.
Alex. Go then, inhuman! triumph in my pains,
Feed on the pangs that rend this wretched heart,
For now 'tis plain you never lov'd. Statira!
Oh, I could sound that charming cruel name
'Till the tir'd echo faint with repetition;
'Till all the breathless groves and quiet myrtles
Shook with my sighs, as if a tempest bow'd 'em.
My tongue could dwell for ever on that name.
Statira! oh, Statira!
Stat. Such was his looks, so melting was his voice,
Such his soft sighs, and his deluding tears,
When with that pleasing perjur'd breath avowing
His whispers trembled thro' my credulous ears,
And told the story of my utter ruin.
Gods! if I stay I shall again believe:
Farewell, thou greatest pleasure, greatest pain!
Alex. I charge ye, stay her;
Oh, turn thee, thou bewitching brightness, turn,
Hear my last words, and see my dying pangs!
Lo! at your feet behold a monarch falls,
A prince who gave the conquer'd world to thee,
And thought thy love bought cheaply with the gift;
Whose glories, laurels, bloom but in thy smiles,
Now shrunk and blasted by thy cruel hate,
Untimely falls. Yet oh when thou shalt die
May death be mild, as thou art cruel now,
And may thy beauties gently sink to earth,
While circling angels waft thee to repose!
Sys. Art thou turn'd savage? is thy heart of marble? But if this posture move thee not to pity
I never will speak more.
Alex. Oh, my Statira!
I swear, my queen, I'll not outlive our parting.
My soul grows still as death. Say, wilt thou pardon?
'Tis all I ask. Wilt thou forgive the transports
Of a deep wounded heart, and all is well ?
Stat. Rise, and may heaven forgive you like Statira! Alex. You are too gracious-Clytus, bear me hence.
When I am laid i' th' earth yield her the world.
There's something here that heaves as cold as ice,
That stops my breath. Farewell, farewell for ever!
Stat. Hold off, and let me run into his arms.
My life, my love, my lord, my Alexander!
If thy Statira's love can give thee joy
Revive, and be immortal as the gods.
Alex. My futt'ring heart, tumultuous with its bliss, Would leap into thy bosom: 't is too much.
Oh, let me press thee in my eager arms,
And strain thee hard to my transported breast.
Stat. But shall Roxana-
Alex. Let her not be nam'd.
Oh, madam! how shall I repay your goodness;
And you, my fellow warriors, who could grieve
For your lost king? But talk of griefs no more;
The banquet waits, and I invite you all.
My equals in the throne as in the grave,
Without distinction come, and share my joy.
Clyt. Excuse me, sir, if I for once am absent.
Alex. Excuse thee, Clytus! none shall be excus'd:
All revel out the day, 't is my command.
Gay as the Persian god ourself will stand
With a crown'd goblet in our lifted hand;
Young Ammon and Statira shall go round,
While antic measures beat the burthen'd ground,
And to the vaulted skies our trumpets clangors sound.
Enter CLYTUS, HEPHESTION, and EUMENES.
URGE me no more, I hate the Persian dress,
Nor should the king be angry at the rev'rence
I owe my country-sacred are her customs,
And honest Clytus will to death observe them.
Oh let me rot in Macedonian rags,
Or, like Calisthenes, be cag'd for life,
Rather than shine in fashions of the east.
Eum. Let me, brave Clytus, as a friend intreat you. Heph. What virtue is there that adorns a throne, Exalts the heart, and dignifies the man,
Which shines not brightly in our royal master?
And yet perversely you'll oppose his will,
And thwart an innocent unhurtful humour.
Clyt. Unhurtful! oh, 'tis monstrous affectation !
Pregnant with venom, in its nature black,
And not to be excus'd!- -Shall man, weak man!
Exact the rev'rence which we pay to Heaven,
And bid his fellow-creatures kneel before him,
And yet be innocent? Hephestion, no;
The pride that lays a claim to adoration
Insults our reason and provokes the gods.
Eum. Yet what was Jove, the god whom we adore?
Was he not once a man, and rais'd to heaven
For gen'rous acts and virtues more than human?
Heph. By all his thunder and his sov❜reign power
I'll not believe the world yet ever felt
An arm like Alexander's.—Not that god
You nam'd, tho' riding in a car of fire,
Could in a shorter space do greater deeds;
Or more effectually have taught mankind
To bend submissive, and confess his sway.
Clyt. I tell you, boy, that Clytus loves the king As well as you or any soldier here;
Yet I disdain to sooth his growing pride:
The hero charms me-but the god offends,
Heph. Then go not to the banquet.
Clyt. Why, I was bid,
Young minion-was I not, as well as you ?
I'll go, my friend, in this old habit, thus,
And laugh, and drink the king's health heartily;
And while you blushing bow your heads to earth,
And hide them in the dust-I'll stand erect,
Straight as a spear, the pillar of my country,
And be by so much nearer to the gods.
Heph. But see, the king appears.
Enter ALEXANDER, STATIRA, SYSIGAMBIS, PARISATIS, and Attendants.
Par. Oh, gracious monarch!
Spare him, oh, spare Lysimachus's life!
I know you will the brave delight in mercy. Alex. Shield me, Statira, shield me from her sor
Par. Save him, oh save him ere it be too late! Speak the kind word; let not your soldier perish For one rash action by despair occasion'd.
I'll follow thus, for ever on my knees;
You shall not pass. Statira, oh intreat him!
Alex. Oh, madam! take her, take her from about
Her streaming eyes assail my very soul,
And shake my best resolves.
Stat. Did I not break
Thro' all for you? Nay, now my lord, you must: By all th' obedience I have paid you long,
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