Clyt. So would I Burn, hang, drown, but in a better cause. With any here. Fill me another bowl. 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, Alex. Sound, sound, that all the universe may hear. [A loud flourish of Trumpets. Oh, for the voice of Jove! the world should know Alex. I know thou art: Thou enviest the great honour of thy master. Heph. A chief so great, so fortunately brave, The radiant sun, since first his beams gave light, Lys. Such was not Cyrus, or the fam'd Alcides, 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. Why should I fear to speak a bolder truth Alex. All envy, spite and envy, by the gods! To conquer women! Nay, he said the stoutest, Alex. No, 't is mere malice. I was a woman too at Oxydrace, When planting on the walls a scaling ladder Lys. Dread sir! the old man knows not what he says. I leap'd the walls and flew amidst the foe, 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, Alex. Oh, that thou wert but once more young and vig'rous I That I might strike thee prostrate to the earth, Clyt. I know the reason why you use me thus: 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. 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. Clyt. Sure there is none amongst us, 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, |