THE tragedy OF DARIUS.  
By William Alexander of Menstrie.  Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci. 
LONDON Printed by G. Eld for Edward Blount. 1604.   

In praise of the Author, and his Poem.  

A SONNET.  
Give place all ye to dying Darius' wounds  
(While this great Greek him in his throne installs)  
That fell before seven ported Thebes walls,  
Or under Ilion's old sky-threatning rounds.  
Your sour-sweet sighs not half so sadly sounds,  
Though, I confess, most famous be your falls,  
Slain, sacrificed, transported, and made thralls;  
pracipate, burnt, banished from your bounds:  
Whom Sophocles, Euripides have song,  
Aeschylus end in stately Tragic tune:  
Yet none of all hath so divinely done,  
As matchless Menstrie in his native tongue.  
So Darius' ghost seems glad for to be so  
Triumphed on twice by Alexander's two.   Io. MURRAY.  

A Sonnet  
whenas the Macedonian conqueror came  
To great Achilles' Tomb, he sighed, and said;  
Well may thy ghost, brave champion, be apayed,  
That Homer's Muse was trumpet of thy fame.  
But if that Monarch great in deeds and name,  
Now once again with mortal vail arrayed,  
Came to the Tomb where Darius hath been laid,  
This speech more justly sighing might he frame:  
My famous foe, whom I less hate, than pity,  
Even I, who vanquished thee, envy thy glory,  
In that such one doth sing thy ruins story,  
As matcheth Homer in his sweetest ditty;  
Yet joy I that he Alexander height,  
And sounds in thy o'erthrow my matchless might.  W. Quin.  

Eiusdem in nomen Authoris GULIELMUS ALEXANDER, Anagramma. I, LARGUS MELLE EXUNDA. Tetrasticon.  
cum tibi det Genius, Musa, ingeniumque, Poēsis  
Floribus é varijs Attica mella lega;  
I, largus melle exunda, mellitáque fund  
Carmina: sic facias nomine fata iubent.   

THE ARGUMENT.  
DARIUS, the fourteenth from Cyrus' King of Persia, being after the death of Occhus for his singular valour from the government of Armenia advanced to the Persian empire, became so arrogant (Fortune, as it were, setting him forward to confusion) as he sent to demand tribute of Philip, than King of Macedonia: who being of a haughty nature, and inferior to none of that age in courage, or military discipline, requited this contumelious message with as disdainful an answer; threatening that he would come and deliver it in Persepolis. But being prevented by death he left the execution of his design to his son Alexander, who for the great victories which thereafter he obtained was surnamed the great. He inheriting the hatred of his Father towards Darius, and far surmounting him in ambition, passed in person to Asia with an army of thirty thousand only.  
After his arrival, Darius wrote to him in a proud and contemptible manner, ascribing to himself the title of the King of Kings, and kinsman of the Gods, and naming Alexander his servant. He also in vaunting manner boasted that he would have that mad boy, the son Philip (for so in derision he termed him) bound, and beaten with rods, and after brought to his presence appareled like a Prince. For performance whereof he directed one of his Minions with forty thousand, to make impediment to his passage at the river of Granick; where by the wonderful valour of Alexander they were overthrown. Darius being advertised of this, came himself in proper person, accompanied with infinite, (but evil ordered) numbers; and encountered Alexander beside Isso, in the straits of Cilicia: where having fought a doubtful and bloody battle, in end by the invincible valour, and never-failing Fortune of Alexander his army was defeated, himself put to flight, and his mother, wife, and children made captives. They were most courteously entertained by Alexander: who notwithstanding their exceeding great beauty yet would not abuse them, or suffer them to be abused by others: nor visited he them more oft then once (and that to comfort them) all the time of their imprisonment.  
Darius, notwithstanding of all his losses (his courage being in the full, whilst his Fortune was in the wain) wrote very proudly to Alexander, taking still the title of a King to himself, but not giving it him, offering him as much gold, as Macedon could contain, for ransom of the Captives. Which being very disdainfully refused by Alexander, he having reinforce his troops, & coming forwarder to fight with greater force than before, was informed how his wife had died in prison, whose death he bewailed with exceeding great sorrow. And understanding what courtesy Alexander had used towards her, he sent to sue for peace, not for any fear of his force, but allured (as he alleged) by his courtesy. This suit being likewise rejected, he fought beside Arbella with no better Fortune than before. Yet for all these misfortunes being of an invincible courage, and despairing of peace, he reassembled all his forces, which were augmented by the coming of the Bactrians, & was coming forward with intention at last either to die, or prevail. But in the mean time two traitorous subjects of his own, to wit, Bessus whom he had promoted to be governor of Bactria, & Nabarzanes one in special credit with him, conspired his death. Which danger, though it was revealed to him by Patron, Captain of the Greeks, yet he could not, or rather would not eschew. At length, those two traitors took and bound him with golden chains, and cast him in an old Chariot, with purpose to present him to Alexander. But they hearing how he would not accept their present, and how he was coming to invade them, threw their darts at Darius, and left him for dead. In this estate he was found by Polistratus, and after the delivery of some few words died. Alexander having exceedingly lamented his miserable and undeserved end, directed his body to his mother Sisigambis to be honourably buried.   

The persons names that speaks.  

Darius.  
Sisigambis, his mother.  
Statira Re. his wife.  
Statira Virg his daughter.  
Tiriotes, their Eunuch.  
Nabarzanes two traitors.  
Bessus. two traitors.  
Patron, Captain of the mercenary Greeks.  
Nuntius.  
Alexander.  
Parmenio, his Lieutenant.  
Hephestion, his Minion.  
Polistratus, a soldier.  
Artabazus, a noble man of Persia.  
Chorus, all Persians.   
The Scene supposed in Babylon.   

THE TRAGEDY OF Darius.  

Actus Primus.  DARIUS. 

WHat thundering power grown jealous of my state  
With such hostility my troops o'erthrows,  
And armed with lightning, breathing flames of hate,  
Big with disdain, high indignation shows   

Whilst soothed with self conceits ashamed to doubt,  
In greatness shadow I securely slept,  
Lo change-affecting Fortune wheels about,  
And ruins all that me from ruin kept.   

Thus I, whose only name amazed my foes,  
Whom th'earth adored, as Monarch, once over all,  
Am so degraded now, and sunk in woes,  
That who admired my might, admire my fall.   

Ah then indeed I fell, when gallants stood,  
And Phoenixlike renewed their life by death,  
Who having sealed their force and faith with blood,  
Would rather die, then draw a borrowed breath.   

Yet I, but then not I, viewed not avenged,  
Those monstrous mountains of my subjects slain,  
Although my conscience hath my courage clenged,  
And knows what valour was employed in vain.   

Through greatest dangers death I did pursue,  
Till heaps of slaughtered bodies barred my way,  
And changed my Chariot to a scarlet hue,  
Ere wounded honour could be drawn away.   

O how I envy yet their happy Ghosts,  
Who died whilst hope of victory remained,  
And in the presence of two famous hosts  
Left bloody records that they died unstained?   

Shall I survive that soul-overwhelming shame,  
To be th'eternal stain of Persians' praise?  
No rather let me die, and let my name,  
Be quite extinguished with my hateful days.   

Star-boasting Babylon blush to behold  
One called thy King surmounted and abated:  
How may thy Towers but tremble, when it's told,  
Thy Prince entreats, whom Princes erst entreated?   

Not vassal-like; I will not yield to this:  
Were all my Empire to a period come,  
Yet none shall vaunt that ever I was his:  
Hearts holding courage are not all o'ercome.   

This tongue enured still to command doth scorn  
To breathe base words, to scape a minute's pains.  
Let them obey, who to obey were borne:  
For Darius this indignity disdains.   

Since I was once judged worthy to command,  
Shall I return to be a base entreater?  
No, whilst a sword yields homage to this hand,  
I'll not acknowledge in the world a greater.   

Brave spirits, who now possess the pleasant bowers,  
And glorious gardens of th'elysian plain,  
(For if deserts may move th'infernal powers,  
That happy shade your shadows must contain)   

Those fields whereas your praises are set forth  
Do bury but your bodies, not your fame:  
Men shall adore the relics of your worth,  
And rear immortal Trophies to your name.   

I'll sacrifice as incense to your souls,  
His dying sighs, and sorrowing parents tears,  
Who now, while none his insolence controls,  
Our conquered ensigns in his triumph bears.   

For it may ease your Ghosts to hear his groans,  
Whilst th'earth overburdened sends rebounding back  
A plaintiff Echo from the woods and stones,  
To sound through all the air his Army's wrack.   

Why spend I speeches to disturb your rest?  
What idle disputations do I hold?  
A mighty furor hath inflamed my breast,  
And burns me, till I be avenged sevenfold.   

Did I that strong Cadusian first affront,  
Who durst advance himself to brave our bands,  
Then turned applauded, and in high account,  
Charged with his spoils the honour of my hands?   

And could I then all kind of doubt removing,  
adventure only to an Army's shame?  
And should I now that ancient praise disproving,  
With squadrons compassed lose that glorious name?   

Blind fortune, O, thy stratagems are strange:  
Thou wrack'st my greatness, wound'st mine honour to,  
And having made my state the stage of change,  
Hast acted all inconstancy could do.   

Lo I, who late of swarming troops did boast,  
Am spoiled of all in whom I then reposed,  
And those imprisoned, whom I fancy most,  
Are to th'insulting victors pride exposed.   

O torment but to think, death to believe,  
That any may command my dearest part,  
And wretched I notable to relieve  
The jewel of mine eye, joy of my heart.   

Dear object of my thoughts, my life, my love,  
Sweet source of my delights, my one, my all,  
Bright Image of excellencies above,  
What? dost thou breathe, and com'st not when I call?   

And can I be, and not be where thou art?  
Hath heaven the force me from thy face to bar?  
Or are my hands grown traitors to my heart,  
That they should shrink from doing what it dare?   

O could my mind but distribute a space  
These emulating thoughts that toss my breast,  
Among those pointless Ciphers that spend place:  
Then I alone might animate the rest.   

Since in this great disgrace I chanced to fall,  
Now nothing rests to raze my fame forlorn,  
But to do desperately, and hazard all.  
I'll live with praise, or by my death fly scorn.   

Some prosperous issue afterward may purge  
This crime, with which th'event would burden me,  
This crime, that carries with itself a scourge:  
No greater torment than the want of thee.   

But what hope rests to reobtain that treasure,  
Which avaricious tyrants once possess?  
Another now disposes at his pleasure  
Of all my wealth: how can I look for less?   

Now, not till now, I deem my state in danger,  
When I imagine how my best beloved  
Must entertain my enemy a stranger,  
I being far from offering aid removed.   

A host of furies in my breast I find,  
Which do my soul with dreadful horrors fill,  
And foster in my melancholious mind  
Strange apprehensions that affright me still.   

And this surmized disgrace, grown thoroughly strong,  
Reads hourly in my ears a hateful scroll  
Of an imagined, yet recureless wrong,  
Such poisoned thoughts like serpents sting my soul.   

Blind love beguiles me not, sharpsighted fears  
Find great appearances for to suspect thee:  
Would God I had no heart, nor eyes, nor ears,  
To think, to see, or hear thou shouldst neglect me.   

This aggravates the wight of my despair,  
When doubt objects, t'annull loves fast defence,  
How he is young and fierce, she young, and fair,  
He bent t'offend, and she exposed t'offence,   

From which I fear both cannot long abstain:  
Her beauty is sufficient to allure:  
His bravery is sufficient to obtain.  
captains will force, and captives must endure,   

O Alexander, tender my renown,  
Although thou travel to usurp my throne.  
I rage to have arrival in my Crown:  
But in my love I can comport with none.   

Lode her not with disgrace, and me with grief,  
lest so thou rob her honour, and my life:  
Spare in this point t'overcharge me with mischief:  
In all things else let arms decide our strife.   

But where doth fury thus transport my spirits,  
With light belief my best half to mistrust?  
dear, pardon, I trespass to wrong thy merits,  
Whom I have still found faithful loving just.   

Pure chastity doth then most firmly stand,  
When fortified it is with wedlocks band.  
Yet let me doubt, or let me leave to love:  
To fear the worst it is affection's part.  
I'll not mistrust thy truth? yet it may prove,  
Thy face betray thy faith, thy hap thy heart.   

But on thy love approved my hope relies,  
This doth dissolve suspicions power to nought.  
I will repel reports, as slanderous lies,  
Which second not thy virtue, and my thought.   

Though virtues foe, and worth-envy fortune,  
Hath wronged my valour with an evil success;  
Life of my life, yet must I thee importune,  
join not with her to double my distress.   Exit. 

CHORUS.  

O More than miserable mind,  
That of all things itself worst knows,  
And being through presumption blind  
Is puffed up with every wind,  
Which fortune in derision blows.  
Such one no stable bliss can find,  
Whose heart is guided by his eye,  
And trusts unto betraying shows,  
Which seem not as they be.  
Oft short prosperity,  
Breeds long adversity:  
For who abuse the first, the last o'erthrows.  
A dead security all care exiles:  
'tis no small danger to be happy whiles.   

Who on himself too much depends,  
'a makes an Idol of his wit,  
For every favour fortune sends,  
Self-flatterer himself commends,  
And will no sound advise admit,  
But at himself begins, and ends,  
And never takes a moment's leisure,  
To try what fault he may commit,  
But drunk with froths of pleasure,  
Thirsts for praise above measure,  
Imaginary treasure,  
Which slowly comes, and soon away doth flit:  
And what is most affected at this time,  
Succeeding ages may account a crime.   

A Potentate that is respected,  
And by his subjects thought a God,  
Thinks, as his name on high erected  
Hath what he list at home effected,  
It may like wonders work abroad.  
O how his folly is detected!  
For though he sit in Royal seat,  
And as he list his vassals lod;  
Yet others that are great.  
Live not by his conceit,  
Nor ponder what he threat,  
But plague his pride oft ere he fear the rod.  
There are rare qualities required in Kings:  
A naked name can never work great things.   

They who themselves too much esteem,  
And vainly vilipend their foe,  
Oft find not fortune, as they deem,  
And with their treasure would redeem  
Their error past: Behold even so  
From blame who can our King exeme,  
Who his adversary to scorn,  
Thought he who in his name did go  
The laurel should have worn,  
His triumph to adorn?  
But he with shame hath shorn  
The fruits of folly ever ripe with woe.  
An enemy (if it be well advised)  
Though he seem weak, should never be despised.   

But what? the Minions of our Kings,  
Who speak at large, and are believed,  
Dare boast of many mighty things,  
As they could fly, though wanting wings,  
And deeds by words might be achieved,  
But time at length their lies to light,  
Their sovereign to confusion brings.  
Yet so they gain, they are not grieved,  
But charm their PRINCE's sight,  
And make what's wrong seem right.  
Thus ruin they his might,  
That when he would, he cannot be relieved.  
More kings in chambers fall by flatterers charms,  
Then in the field by th'adversaries arms.   

All that the success hath approved  
By Charidemus was foreshown:  
Yet with his words no man was moved:  
For good men first must be removed,  
Before their worth can well be known.  
The King would hear but what he loved,  
And what him pleased not did despise.  
So were the better sort overthrown,  
And Sycophants unwise,  
Who could the truth disguise,  
Were suffered for to rise,  
That him, who raised them up, they might cast down.  
Thus Princes will not hear, though such deceive them,  
Things as they are, but as themselves conceive them.     

ACTVS SECVNDVS.  ALEXANDER. PARMENTO. 

Behold, the heavens with a benign aspect,  
To prosper this brave enterprise intend,  
And with propitious stars seem to direct  
This great beginning to a glorious end.   

Who would be famous must of force aspire:  
All those astonished, who my troops do view,  
Doubt of those two which most they should admire;  
My coming, or my conquering with so few.   

So mighty minds t'achieve great actions bent  
Force Fortune oft to favour them in all:  
Where baser breasts divining evil event,  
Through superstitious fears procure their fall.   

O how I wonder, when I call to mind  
That monstrous camp, which not so much as doubted!  
Dim seemed the Sun, whileas their armour shined  
Men had not heard the thunder, whilst they shouted.   

Th'avant-couriers, that came for to examine,  
When they so mean my numbers had perceived,  
Did think them small to satisfy the famine,  
That their huge host of daughter had conceived.   

And yet in end this proved a poisoned food,  
Which of their own to their confusion yields  
Mountains of murdered corpse, and seas of blood:  
unburied bodies buried all the fields.   

So now that few, whom they contemned so far,  
(See how mortality itself deceives)  
Have far overmatched their multitudes in war,  
And made the world waste to people the graves.   

Then, dear Parmenio, since the fates afford  
So fair an entry to our first designs,  
Let us go prosecute with dint of sword  
That fortune, which the heavens our hopes assigns.   Parm. 

This high attempt, as we would wish succeeds.  
What hosts have we overthrown? what cities razed?  
Lo, populous Asia trembles at our deeds,  
And martial Europe doth remain amazed.   

Proud Greece, whose spirits oft priest to scorn the skies,  
A prostrate supplicant before thee falls:  
Rebellious Thebes, that durst thy power despise,  
Lies now entombed within her broken walls.   

That sea-empiring tire, reposing much  
In liquid Castles, and a waving main,  
Hath ratified thy forces to be such,  
That nothing can resist thy just disdain.   

No doubt the ancient Grecians ghosts are glad  
To see the fierce Barbarians brought so low;  
Yet are for envy of thy fortune sad,  
And though unbodied blush at this overthrow.   

Miltiades by all men was admired,  
Who once in Greece their flying troops pursued:  
And he that with a stratagem retired,  
And Salamina's straits with blood imbrued.   

But yet for all the Captains of that age  
The Eastern monarchs empire was enlarged,  
Who coming to their country, wars to wage,  
The sea with ships, the land with armies charged.   

He with more swarms of men, than th'autumn's clusters,  
Dried rivers up, & marched on Neptune's back;  
By measure, not by number made his musters,  
And did attempt the mountains plain to make.   

Then Europe feared for to be forced to bow,  
whilst th'earth did groan to bear so great an host?  
But thou hast come, seen, and overcomed them now  
Even in the bounds wherein their might was most.   

That haughty foe, who vilipended oft  
Our predecessors armies, and our own,  
Now laid as low, as he was once aloft,  
With his disgrace must make thy valour known.   

He cannot but acknowledge his distress  
In labouring first to have his friends restored:  
This message (potent Prince) imports no less:  
By his request thy conquest is decored.   

For the recovery of his captived Queen  
He offered hath innumerable gold;  
And would present a treasure to be seen  
More, as they say, than Macedon may hold.   

My counsel is that you accept those offers,  
And render her, as th'ancient custom binds;  
Who would make war must not have empty coffers:  
For hope of gain moves mercenary minds.   

And further, if those Princesses do tarry,  
It sumptuous is to entertain their state.  
Women, and babes are cumbersome to carry;  
Th'one young in years, and th'other in conceit.   Alex. 

If I were come to traffic in this land,  
And like a greedy merchant to embrace  
Before all hope of glory gain in hand,  
This your inuild opinion might have place.   

But soon I surfeit of such melting things,  
And famish but for fame, and crowns of Kings.   Parm 
So, were I Alexander, would I do.  Alex. 
If I Parmenio were, so would I to.  Par. 
Their ransom would defray your soldiers fee.  Alex. 
I'll rather without ransom set them free.  Parm. 
The good is lost that's done unto a foe.  Alex. 
The greater glory to o'ercome him so.  Parm. 
Gold is the God that conquers in all parts.  Alex. 
True magnanimity doth ravish hearts.  Parm. 
rich treasures serve for th'arters of the war.  Alex. 
No, but courageous hearts that all things dare.  Parm. 
The want of wages makes a mutinous band.  Alex. 
But who dare disobey, when I command?  Par. 
Why should you, Sir, contemn so rich a treasure?  Alex. 
A noble spirit with praise no gain doth measure.  Parm. 
But who delights in such an airy store?  Alex. 
If I be singular, I ask no more.  Parm. 

Although that you conceive no such suspicion,  
Yet I hear how your soldiers oft exclaim,  
They sacrifice their bloods for your ambition,  
And perish to perpetuate your name.   

And yet, without regard what they endure,  
You compass all the empire of the East,  
And more within your mind: this may procure  
Some sudden tumult, when you fear it least.   

Retire in time, while as the heavens are clear:  
You have performed, performed, and that right soon,  
More than your own could hope, your foes could fear,  
Or then the world can credit, when 'tis done.   

Your worth in war is wonderfully shown,  
And to the terror of all Asia tried:  
Now let your skill in peace be likewise known,  
And for the maintenance of your state provide.   

Good government the same of Kings doth raise  
No less than conquest made of Realms and towns:  
'Tis harder far, and doth deserve more praise  
To guide, then get: to keep, then conquer crowns.   

Your glory in her highest sphere is placed,  
And may not move except it be more low:  
And if it once descend to be disgraced,  
Each artisan your statues will o'erthrow,   

For in the war, as you may well perceive,  
No little part dependeth upon fame:  
If we but once the least affront receive,  
The world will gather to extirp our name.   

Then tempt not Fortune further than you need,  
Let reason bridle this aspiring thought:  
lest, whilst your hopes with trophies feigned you feed,  
A moment turn your travels all to nought.   

Let Darius be a lively patron now  
Of th'ever-changing course of states and crowns:  
That Prince to whom the Orient once did bow,  
His desolation only now renowns.   

He scarcely loat length become content  
To call you King, though twice put in disorder:  
In dowry with his daughter doth present  
The famous Euphrates, to be your border.   

Or otherwise he condescends to give  
Great store of Gold, or what yourself desires,  
If that his mother, wife, and children live,  
To have them rendered, as he oft requires.   

And let not vain ambition blind your eyes:  
Remember what strange nations will embrace him,  
Whom scarce he knows by name, or never sees,  
Where if he fled, your troops would tire to chase him.   Alex. 

Peace, peace Parmenio, now thou makest me rage,  
With these words unworthy of our ears:  
It seems the coldness of decaying age,  
Hath killed thy courage with a frost of fears.   

Did I abandon thee my native soil,  
And shadowed with my Ensigns unknown coasts;  
That after infinite distress and toil,  
Whilst in contempt of us our foe yet boasts,  
I should retire, effecting nought at last,  
But sharpened a desire, t'augment my merits,  
Then die in discontent, when 'tis past  
The time, that should have pacified my spirits?   

No, I will reign, and I will reign alone:  
From this design my fancy never wanders,  
For as the heavens can hold no Sun but one:  
The earth cannot contain two Alexanders.   

The ample circuit of this spacious round  
Seems insufficient to confine my thought:  
And o would God there could more worlds be found,  
That many might t'adorn our deeds be brought.   

O, I could wish that th'Ocean were firm land,  
Where none but hideous Giants had retreat,  
Such as at Phlegra field in strife did stand  
Against the Gods for the aetherial seat.   

These could encourage martial minds to strike,  
Who being won would yield eternal praise:  
I conquer men; but many did the like:  
And afterages may my equal raise.   

But since none such my triumphs are to grace,  
Such as there are I'll to subjection bring:  
And here I swear no kind of ease t'embrace,  
Till all the world adore me for their King.   

If you or any else that live in dread  
Withdraw yourselves, your PRINCE's part despising;  
Remember always in his greatest need  
Ye fly to stop his honour in the rising.   

Pass home, and live like men in prison pent:  
I measure not my courage by my numbers.   Parm. 

Your Majesty misconstrues my intent:  
You know what I have thold, what cares, what cumbers,   

And all for you: I to your eyes appeal,  
Which well can witness what my hands have wrought.  
All that I spoke, proceeded of a zeal  
And not of cowardice, or fear of aught.   

Nor match I vile repose with honest pains:  
My courage is nor yet become so cold:  
That wonted vigour hath not left my veins,  
Which spurred my spirit in youth, though I be old.   Alex. 

'Tis not enough that you yourself be so:  
To be the same you should the rest exhort.  
Is he returned, who was ordained to go  
And view the Captives, what doth he report?   Parm. 

As we were since by some of them instructed,  
While they as yet not of support despaired,  
And to a tent were courteously conducted,  
Which we of purpose caused to be prepared;   

Even in the way one fortuned to espy  
The Diadem that Darius erst had borne,  
Which on the earth so abjectly did lie,  
As each thing his calamine would scorn.   

Then they imagined, from his royal head,  
Whose dignity it sometime did decore,  
None could it cast, except himself were dead:  
And if so were, they longed to live no more.   

When they had entered in the tent to weep,  
Leonatus came and at the entry knocked:  
They stood so still, he thought an yornie sleep  
Had locked their eyes, or else that he was mocked.   

At length by force he made a patent way,  
And was advanced them lovingly to greet;  
When lo, these dolorous Ladies prostrate lay,  
And with a flood of tears bedewed his feet.   

Then sobbing said, we not refuse to die:  
Let us entomb first Darius like a King:  
Then when that we his latter honour see,  
Death cannot but a great contentment bring.   

This so they urged, as he could scarce persuade  
That Darius was not dead as they supposed,  
But lived, in hope through dangers Seas to wade  
And in the power of other Realms reposed.   

And further he protested on your part,  
That they might look for clemency and grace.  
Thus after that I had assuaged their smart,  
It seemed they longed to see my sovereign's face.   Alex. 

Of my goodwill they may themselves assure:  
I never warred with such as were subjecteth:  
And if my presence may their ease procure,  
Straight to their tent my steps shall be directed.   Exeunt. 

CHORUS.  

OF all the passions that possess the soul,  
None so disturbs vain mortals' minds  
As this Ambition, that so blinds  
The sense of man, that nothing can control  
Nor curb their thoughts who will aspire.  
This raging vehement desire  
Of sovereignty no satisfaction finds,  
But in the breasts of men doth ever roll  
The restless stone of Sisiph to torment them.  
And as his heart, who stealed the heavenly fire,  
The vulture gnaws, so doth Ambition rent them:  
Had they the world, the world would not content them.   

This race of Ixion to embrace the clouds,  
Contemn the state wherein they stand,  
And would all but themselves command,  
As one desire is quenched another buds:  
When they have travelled all their time,  
Heaps blood on blood, and crime on crime,  
There is a higher power that guides their hand.  
More happy he whom a poor cottage shrouds  
Against the tempest of the threatening heaven,  
He stands in fear of none, none envy him:  
His heart is upright, and his ways are even,  
Where others' states are still twixt six and seven.   

That damned wretch up with Ambition blown,  
Whileas he turns the wheel about,  
Whiles cast within, whiles cast without,  
In striving for the top is still thrown down.  
Those that delight in climbing high  
Oft with a precipice do die:  
So do the stars sky-climbling worldlings flout.  
But this disease is fatal to a crown;  
Kings, who have most strive most t'augment their bounds;  
And if they be not all, they can not be:  
Which to their damage commonly redounds.  
Too great a state her proper weight confounds.  
Th'ambitious toiling to enlarge their state  
Themselves exceedingly deceive,  
In hazarding the hap they have  
For a felicity that they conceit.  
Though their dominions they increase,  
Yet their desires grow never les:  
For though they conquer Climates, more they crave.  
This is the misery of being great.  
Such eye-beguiling pomp is all but fume;  
Such glorious shows disguise the mind's distress;  
And who to conquer all the earth presume,  
A little earth shall them at last consume.   

And if it fortune that they die in peace  
(A wonder wondrous rarely seen)  
Who conquer first; their empire clean  
Is ruined by some persons of their race:  
Who coming to the crown with rest,  
And having all in peace possessed,  
Do straight forget what bloody broils have been  
Before their Fathers could attain that place.  
As th'Ocean flows, and ebbs states rise and fall:  
And Princes, when their actions prosper best,  
For fear their greatness should oppress the small,  
Are of some hated, and envied of all.   

We know what end the mighty Cyrus made,  
Whom, while he strived to conquer still,  
A woman did most vildly kill,  
And in a bloody vessel rolled his head;  
Then said, Content thyself with blood:  
Thou still didst famish for such food:  
Now quench thy thirst of blood with blood at will.  
Some of his successors, since he was dead  
Have reigned a space with pomp, and yet with pain.  
Now all their glory cannot do us good.   

What they so long have laboured to obtain,  
All in an instant must be lost again.   

Lo, Darius once so magnified by fame,  
By one whom he contemned o'ercome,  
For all his bravery now made dumb,  
With downcast eyes must signify his shame.  
Who puffed up with pernicious pride  
Think still t'have fortune on their side,  
They cannot scape to be a prey to some.  
They spend their prosperous days as in a dream,  
And as it were in fortune's bosom sleeping,  
They in this dull security abide,   

And of their doubtful state neglect the keeping,  
Whilst ghastly ruin comes upon them creeping.   

Thus the vicissitude of worldly things  
Doth to our eyes itself detect,  
When heavenly powers exalt, deject,  
Confirm, confound, erect and ruin Kings.  
So Alexander mighty now,  
To whom the vanquished world doth bow.  
With all submission, homage, and respect  
Doth fly a borrowed flight with Fortune's wings:  
Nor enters he his dangerous course to ponder,  
Yet, if that Fortune bend her cloudy brow:  
All those, who at his sudden success wonder,  
May gaze as much to see himself brought under.     

ACTVS TERTIVS.  

Scen. I.  SISIGAMBIS Regina, STATIRA Virgo. 

O Dismal day detested by the light,  
And would to God (but God neglects our case)  
The world were wrapped in a Cimmerian night,  
That no proud eye might gaze on our disgrace.  
Why did the heavens reserve my feeble age,  
To go to grave with infamy and grief?  
Could nothing but my shame their wrath assuage  
Thus offered upon th'altar of mischief?  
Ah, have I spent my youth in pomp and pleasure,  
And had my spring-time graced with pleasant flowers,  
That autumn, which should reap the summers treasure,  
Might be disastered with such stormy showers?  
And did smooth calms, and sunshines of delight  
Make all my voyage through the world a sport;  
That tossed with a tempest of despite  
I now might perish entering at my port?   

Yet for all this, were I exposed alone  
Th'accursed object of heavens plaguing-arms,  
I should not think I had just cause to moan,  
When I but wailed mine own, not others' harms.   

Ay me, on those, whom more than life I love  
The state-disturbing blasts of Fortune fall:  
Yet each of them some several sorrows move,  
But wretch I suffer shipwreck in them all.   

I suffered, when I saw Oxatres slain,  
My loving son, and most entirely loved:  
died in Darius, when he tried in vain,  
What fates would do, yet still their hatred proved.  
Ah, do the destinies extend my breath  
For further evil? O extreme cruelty,  
To use so many instruments of death,  
Against one burdened with calamity.   

Yet jove, if this may disenflame thine ire,  
Let all thy lightning light upon mine head:  
To be consumed with a celestial fire  
Some comfort were, since that I must be dead.   Stat. Reg. 

Leave mother these immoderate laments  
To me the very source, and seat of sorrow,  
Whose days are burdened with so sad events,  
That hell itself may of my torments borrow.   

Lo, the dear Lord and treasure of my thought,  
Whose presence I my Paradise esteemed,  
To such a headlong precipice is brought,  
That with the world his glory dead is deemed.   

Ah, on what prop can I repose my trust,  
When first the greatness of his state I ponder;  
Next how his Diadem drenched in the dust  
Was Fortune's Trophy, and all Asia's wonder?   

He whose imperious speech the world respected,  
And as an oracle had in regard,  
Now vanquished and contemptibly neglected  
Can scarcely as a supplicant be heard.   

And yet I know this more his mind afflicts,  
Then doth the ruin of his regal state,  
That him my sight another interdicts,  
Who am the sovereign of his soul's conceit.   

Shall he, pure quintessence of my best part,  
Then only testify the love he bears?  
No, by mine eyes I will distill my heart,  
And for his sake dissolve myself in tears.  
Would God my breast like Crystal were transparent,  
That all the world might see my sincere mind,  
And that my loyal thoughts were all apparent,  
Whose great affection cannot be confined.   

They have imprisoned only my poor eyes,  
And banished them from th'object of their joy:  
My fiery heart with winged fancies flies  
And where thou goest doth still my steps convoy.   

Thy Queen is such, as whilst thou drawest this air,  
In counting captives men may still accept her:  
For whilst thou liv'st, how can thy spouse despair,  
Whom thou preferrest even to thy soul and sceptre?   

Yet flatter I myself that am accursed:  
The apprehension, which with grief I cherish,  
Of thy mishap may serve to make me burst.  
Ah, ah I faint, I feel my spirits perish.   Sis. 
Help, help alas, alas, the Empress falls.  Sta. Virg. 
O doleful day of darkness; world of woes.  Sis. 

This grievous spectacle my spirit appals:  
Heaven, earth, and all are now become our foes.   Sta. Virg. 

I may more justly moan then any other,  
Whose ears have heard the hard hap of my father;  
Whose eyes behold the anguish of my mother,  
Whom both do load with all the woes of either.   Stat. Reg. 

What inhuman humanity is this,  
With such a cruel pity to oppress;  
To bring pale ghosts back from the fields of bliss,  
Yet to be plunged in th'Ocean of distress?   

O unkind kindness that by saving slays,  
And would with loveless love my love control.  
Ah, of this odious Sun th'unhappy rays  
Do clear mine eyes but to confound my soul.   Sisi. 

Dear daughter, strive your passions to restrain,  
lest that the torrent of your grief grow such,  
That it both carry you to' groundless a main,  
And him o'erwhelm for whom, ye mourn so much.  
No doubt but he, if we rest captives thus,  
Disdaining these indignities of ours,  
T'avenge himself in re-obtaining us  
Will hazard all his Oriental powers.   

But ah, what comfort can a wretch afford,  
Whose care-worn bread the word of woe contains?  
Yet though my heart would feign impugn my word,  
I hopeless speak of hope, t'appease her pains.   Stat. Reg. 

Such consolations now came not in season,  
Since we must hold our grief the greatest good:  
Dissemble not your sorrow, we have reason  
Yea to sigh out our sprites and weep our blood.   Sis. 
I wail my son. Stat. Reg. And I my husbands fall.  Sta. Virg. 
I wail my father, and in him us all.  Sis. 

No woe like mine, mine cannot be relieved.  
I wail his woe, who should my woe assuage,  
Who lives by me, by whom I should have lived,  
Sport of my youth, and pillar of mine age.   Stat. Reg. 

No woe like mine, who faithful to my fere  
For love of him all others had forsaken.  
But what a fere? myself, or one more dear:  
Yet from myself my self by force am taken.   Stat. Virg. 

No woe like mine, who borne a monarch child  
Thought that my birth good hap should heap upon me:  
Yet all my expectations are beguiled,  
And what I hoped in most hath most undone me.   Sis. 
I mourn for him who in my womb was formed.  St. Reg. 
I mourn for him in whom love me transformed.  Stat. Virg. 
I mourn for him by whom I formed was.  Sis. 
Shall I not see myself in that clear glass?  St. Reg. 
Ah! shall I never in his joy rejoice?  St. Virg. 
Ah! shall I never here his cheerful voice?  Sis. 
Would God from death my death might him exeme.  St. Reg. 
would God my life my lives life might redeem.  St. Vir. 
Would God the life he gave him life might give.  Sis. 
Must these grey hairs my sons green youth survive?  Sta. Reg. 
I will prevent him and not live to languish.  Sta. Virg. 
Can I remain behind to live in anguish?  Sis. 

But whiles our wretched state we justly moan,  
We may lament this infant too a space,  
Who in mishap inferior were to none,  
If he could apprehend his tragic case.   Sta. Reg. 

O then how can my heart but burst asunder,  
Whom nature moves most to bemoan his harms?  
I think I see the hosts of heaven all thunder  
On me, my spouse, and this babe in my arms.   

Dear image of myself, in whom I live,  
Thy shape shames not the greatness of thy Sire,  
But of thy birth clear evidence doth give:  
Thy sour-sweet sight adds coals to my desire.   

Thou that shouldst comfort most, tormentest thou me?  
Huge hosts of passions now my soul assembles.  
O how I grieve! and yet am glad to see  
Thee, though not him, whom thy sweet face resembles,   

Go, bear this babe from hence: a wound too deep  
Makes in my breast compassion of his part:  
Yet let him stay; I joy to hear him weep:  
This motherly affection melts my heart.   

Of many woes this last is not the least,  
That un-begun thy glory must be ended;  
Thy fortune's Sun, my Son, set in the East,  
While thy fair-rising all the world attended.   

Ah! must this innocent taste of mishap,  
Whose tender age cannot discern his state,  
And be thus plagued, yea in his nurse's lap  
Inherit woe by birth? Ah cruel fate.   

If thou couldst hope, what great hopes hast thou lost  
That art defrauded of so fair a throne?  
Ah in thy cradle must I see thee crossed,  
Whom I designed so great when we were gone?   

Yet happy hapless child, thou canst not know  
From whence the fountain of our sorrow flows,  
Nor what it is for to be high, or low,  
Nor on what thorn the rose of honour grows.   

Yet hast thou felt the prick before the smell.  
Is this the benefit thy birthright brings  
Here in constrained captivity to dwell?  
Then better not be borne, then come of Kings.   

O what a noise is that that doth affright me?  
I trow to interrupt these tears of mine,  
lest that such sad lamentings should delight me,  
They will not let me plain, yet make me pine.   

Or is it some that doth condole our case,  
And comes with pity moved to see us pined,  
And to behold how we can death embrace,  
Death sovereign salve of a diseased mind?   Sis. 

By many signs we may ourselves assure,  
'Tis Alexander, whom we longed not for.   Stat. Reg. 

What? ah I die! and must my eye endure  
Th'upbraiding object which I most abhor?   Sis. 

Suppress such speeches now, lest all go wrong.  
We are environed with outrageous hosts:  
And weakness must give place unto the strong:  
For victors rage, whenas the vanquished hosts.   

I will entreat him to, not for myself  
(Mine old-age is become to death a debtor)  
But that you may eschew this wrackful shelf,  
Whose flower pot faded yet deserveth better.   Stat. Reg. 

No, if you needs will sue, sue for my grave:  
I will not be indebted to him living:  
I rather death should once the mastery have,  
Then I should die so oft with death still striving.    

ACTVS TERTIVS. Scen. II.  ALEXANDER, SISIGAMBIS, STATIRA Regina, HEPHESTION. Alex. 

RIse mother, rise, remove those causeless fears:  
I come t'appease nor to procure your woe:  
The honour which I owe those aged hears  
Permits me not to see you prostrate so.   Sis. 

Most gracious Prince, forgive me if I erred,  
In taking him for you, that standeth by.   Alex. 

I find no fault to see my friend preferred  
Even to myself: this is another I.   Sis. 

My sorrows so confounded have my mind,  
That scarce I know myself, much less another:  
My soul in such an agony I find,  
As if some mighty mountain did me smother.   Alex. 

I pray you, mother, set those plaints apart:  
They vex me more than stern Bellona's broils.   Sis. 

This tender name of mother wounds my heart,  
Pronounced by him who of that name me spoils.   

I was (woe that I was) a mother late  
Of two fair sons, fair sons lights of my life:  
Now th'one is dead, and in a worse estate,  
Doth th'other live involved in woe and strife,   

Like th'ancient trunk of some disbranched tree,  
Which Eol's rage hath to confusion brought,  
Disarmed of all those imps that sprung from me,  
Unprofitable stock I serve for nought.   Stat. Reg. 

I serve for nought, since him I cannot serve,  
Whose sight may only my dead joys revive.  
I with the famine of all comfort starve,  
Since I want him for whom I wished to live.   

I live without my half, without my whole,  
Prodigious monster, whom the world admires:  
I want the point, the Pilot, and the Pole,  
That drew, addressed, and governed my desires,   

Now tossed with storms in th'Ocean of despair  
By ruin only I attend relief,  
Threatened above with pitchy clouds of care,  
Threatened below with swelling gulfs of grief.   

My soul seems to presage disastrous chances,  
And varying with herself hath never peace:  
My hare oppressed falls into deadly trances:  
My eyes must grace the ground of my disgrace.   

Hell hath assembled all her horrors here:  
Ah, in the concave of this cursed breast,  
As in the dark Tartarian groves, appear  
A thousand shadows to bereave my rest.   Alex. 

Fair Princess, spare those passionate complaints  
Which may augment, but not amend your harms:  
This voice, which with your woe the world acquaints,  
Doth move me more, than all the Persians arms.   

madam, take courage, be afraid of none:  
You may expect what help I can afford:  
I swear by jove's inviolable throne,  
And do protest by my imperial word,   

That neither I, nor any wight shall wrong you.  
Yea more than this, I lay my faith in pawned,  
You shall be honoured here as doth belong you:  
And, as it were, in your own Court command.   Sta. Reg. 

Ah how can I command, whilst I am thrall?  
What can I have who wanting one want all?   Alex. 

Though it seem glorious in some victor's sight  
T'abuse their captives, and triumph in ill:  
The larger grow the limits of my might,  
The more I strive for to restrain my will,   

The save guard of my favour shall extend  
Not only towards you, but towards all your train.  
I shall have care that who on me attend  
From offering wrong you, or yours refrain.   

If any press t'impugn what I appoint,  
Or would in ambush for your honour lie,  
Or discontent you but in any point,  
As Alexander lives, that wretch shall die.   Sta. Reg. 

O what a host of evils, where ere I go,  
Are still encroaching on my downcast state?  
And must I be beholden to my foe,  
Who doth divide me from my royal mate?   

Should he help me who would extermine him?  
Cursed be my heart, if it betray him thus.  
Eternal shadows mote these eyes first dim,  
Ere such a light be grateful unto us.   

I hold not of myself; Lord, I am thine:  
Thy love was sewn not in a barren field,  
But in a fertile ground: this heart of mine  
To thee, my dear, no small increase doth yield.   

Yet this good fortune doth misfortune bring;  
My constancy shall now be clearly known:  
Another might have loved a happy King:  
But I will love thee though thou be o'erthrown.   Alex. 

fain would I strive to comfort in some measure  
This mourning Queen, and mitigate her pain;  
Whose woe doth make my victory no pleasure,  
But hath ensoured the sweetness of my gain.   Sis. 

Most mighty King, thou dost deserve indeed  
That, as for Darius, we should pray for thee,  
Who dost so far in clemency exceed,  
That thou bewail'st our loss no less than he.   

Thou hast not only by thy worth surmounted  
All other Kings in dignity alone,  
And benefits of Fortune most accounted,  
But in all virtues worthy of a throne.   

Thou dost vouchsafe on me (more than I crave)  
The title of a Queen, and mother still:  
But I confess myself thy humble slave,  
Whose life hath now no limits but thy will.   

I have all that imagined good forgot,  
Which greatness gave: I'll look no more so sadly:  
But will allow of this my present lot,  
And bear the burden of my bondage gladly.   

If that this wretched woman here were free,  
Who hath no heaven except her husband's face,  
I could content myself (great Prince) to be  
The meanest handmaid that attends your grace.   Alex. 

You may command me, as I were your Son,  
Whose duteous love shall prove no less entire.   Sis. 

heavens recompense the courtesy thou hast done  
Which all succeeding ages shall admire.   Alex. 

Those captived Princesses have pierced my soul,  
Who e'en amidst our heaven have found a hell.   Hep. 

What stoic brow his passions could control,  
As not to weep, if he remarked well  
The tears of these fair Ladies causing wonder,  
Who need not challenge nature of her duty;  
But borne to bring, although they be brought under,  
Give grief a grace for to apparel beauty,   

Sir, such a victory hath not been seen  
As you have gained, whose greatness well appears;  
The largest kingdom, and the fairest Queen,  
That Asia vaunted of these many years.   

Durst Leda's or Agenor's brood compare  
With that sweet Queen, the honour of her kind?  
But as she is above all other fair,  
As far her daughters make her go behind.   

It seemed at first that sorrow had been sleeping  
While as these Virgins in their Grand-dames bosom  
With weeping beauty, and with beauties weeping  
Did with a hail of pearl blast beauty's blossom.   

So large a power is to no Prince allotted,  
As to loves Empire in their face confined.   Alex. 

O how is my Hephestion thus assotted?  
Dare folly seek t'assault so brave a mind?   

Dare Cupid enter in an armed camp,  
And Mars own minions thus presume to danton?  
Must his soft seal steel-wearing stomachs stamp,  
And make them tributaries to that wanton?   Hep. 

We dare resist (whilst many a thousand dies)  
Against th'invasion of a world of men:  
Yet if in ivory orbs two Sunny eyes  
Assault the soul at unawares, O then   

Some secret sympathy, some unknown motion  
So charms the mind, that vain are all defences.  
The heart drunk with the eyes contagious potion  
Corrupts the spirits and poisons all the senses.   Alex. 

But I in my conceit do scorn all such:  
No, I resolve to be a thrall to none:  
Yea, ere I but abase myself so much,  
I'll rather die ten thousand deaths in one.   

Should I be bound with vile affections chains,  
As one oblivious of my former fame?  
This resolution still my soul retains,  
To balance nothing with a noble name.   

O what a great indignity is this  
To see a Conqueror to his lust a slave?  
Who would the title of true worth were his  
A mind surmounting every vice must have.   

The bravest trophy ever man obtained  
Is that, which o'er himself himself hath gained.   Hep. 

I joy, my sovereign, that as you excel  
Not only men, but Mars himself in arms:  
So you by virtues might the power repel  
Of beauty, love, and Citherea's charms.   

Your virtue bright, whose rays shine in your words  
And thence to heart's centre are reflected;  
Now over myself such power to me affords,  
That with fond love I loathe to he infected.    

ACTVS TERTIVS. Scen. III.  BESSUS, NARBAZANES. Bes. 

NOw since, Narbazanes, we are come hither,  
Let us accomplish what we have intended:  
And join our wit, our force, and all together,  
That it may be no sooner known than ended.   

You see occasion call us, whilst we sleep,  
And point us out the way to be advanced;  
Yea blames our sluggishness that cannot keep  
The course of things which for our weal have chanced   

The heavens abhor our King, & strive t'undo him:  
Nothing doth prosper that he enterprises:  
Some new disaster daily falls unto him:  
Some cross o'erthwarts all things that he devises.   

In no strict limits should our thoughts be bounded  
Whom so great happiness seems to importune:  
For since our King is like to be confounded,  
Upon his fall we both may build our fortune.   Na. 

I shall not fail for to perform my part:  
I of your words exceedingly allow:  
Honour, and wealth are the idols of my heart,  
Which if I may obtain, I care hot how.   

And yet I would we had some fair pretence.  
Our country's care must seem our souls to cumber:  
This seeming zeal must shadow our offence:  
For such a show will satisfy a number.   

Let us be well advised, ere we resolve:  
And then endeavour t'execute it soon.  
If we ourselves once in this work involve,  
And then not finish it, we are undone.   Bes. 

He hath sent one to Alexander late  
To speak of peace, but did the same in vain:  
And now involved in a despaired estate,  
Barred from accord, he cannot wary sustain.   

His purpose is his Captains to convene,  
To ask of them some counsel for his safety:  
A time more fit for us could not have been.  
Who mind to compass Kings must: needs be crafty.   

For to achieve that which we think to do,  
A course more fit we by no means could find,  
Then crooked seeming-upright counsel to  
Disguise our practises, and mask our mind.   

We will advise him to renounce a space  
His state to some one, whom he may desire  
But for the fashion to accept his place,  
And as himself a certain time empire.   

Whose better fortune may perchance bring back  
That which his ever ebbing bears away:  
Then he again his Diadem shall take,  
And as before the regal sceptre sway.   Na. 

Well then amongst ourselves, t'avoid, debate  
Which undermines so many a mighty action.  
I will prefer you to the imperial seat.  
And to approve the same will frame my faction.   Bes. 

All that is one, which of us two receive it,  
Since every thing doth equally belong us:  
I'll take it for the form, not that I crave it,  
For we will part his Empire all among us.   

But if he condescend to this we crave,  
Which at the first unfolding would seem good:  
Let him not think us two such fools to leave  
That which so many monarch buy with blood.   

Who once advanced would willingly go down,  
And not love in authority to stand?  
'Tis not the custom so to quite a Crown,  
When one hath known how sweet it's to command.   

This name of faith but to get credit feigned,  
If it were balanced with a kingdom, straight  
In them whose consciences are most restrained  
'twould soon succumb, a sceptre hath such weight.   Na. 

Yet to betray our King we have no reason:  
When I muse on th'attempt it makes me sorry:  
Our name stained with this odious style of treason  
Shall leave our successors more shame, than glory.   

We first must end all our designs with pain,  
Then reign with fear, and live securely never;  
As in a dream a space with pomp remain,  
Then die disgraced, infamy for ever.   

The sacred title of a Sovereign King  
Doth strike a terror in my troubled thought,  
And majesty, t'amaze my mind, doth bring,  
Whose aspect only hath great wonders wrought.   Bes. 

To idle sounds, and frivolous reports  
Give thou a passport, for they last not long:  
And all that thou allegest nought imports.  
A Crown may cover any kind of wrong.   

What heinous thing so odious is by nature,  
That for a Kingdom hath not been committed:  
To be a King let me be called a traitor;  
Faith, if for aught, for this may be omitted.   

Those are but feeble brains, which fancies load  
With timorous dreams, that bare surmising brings.  
Who fear vain shadows must not come abroad.  
Too wary-wits dare never work great things.   

If our brave project happily succeed,  
(As now I doubt not but it shall do soon)  
We straight will find enough t'applaud our deed,  
And sooth us up in all that we have done.   Na. 

To have the time and manner then prefixed,  
Command the Bactrians all themselves to arm,  
And to attend till we advertise next,  
Prompt for all perils at the first alarm.   

Then through the Camp a rumour we will spread,  
That hopeless Darius hath despair'dly gone  
With violence to dwell amongst the dead,  
And seem therefore excessively to moan.   

The Persians we with promises must feed,  
So to disarm him of his native powers:  
Then we will apprehend himself with speed:  
For while that he is free nothing is ours.   

That we may seem to use him with respect,  
(As to the state of such a Prince pertains:)  
We will not this last ornament neglect;  
He shall be bound, but bound with golden chains.   

To Alexander after we will send,  
And offer Darius in his hands t'appease him;  
Then crave his favour, that he will defend  
Us as his friends, who have done all to please him;   

If his goodwill we cannot thus procure,  
And he us with extremity pursue;  
With Darius' death we will our states assure,  
Then raise fresh forces, and the wars renew.   Bos. 

Let us henceforth for nothing be dismayed,  
But strive ourselves courageously to bear:  
This dangerous action would not be delayed,  
lest time work his assurance, and our fear.   Exeunt. 

CHORUS.  

time, through jove's judgement just,  
Huge alterations brings:  
Those are but fools that trust  
In transitory things,  
Whose tails bear mortal stings,  
Which in the end will wound.  
And let none think it strange,  
Though all things earthly change  
In this inferior round.  
What is from ruin free?  
The elements which be  
At variance (as we see)  
Each other do confound:  
The earth and air make war:  
The fire and water are  
Still wrestling at debate:  
All those through cold and heat,  
Through drought, and moisture jar:  
No wonder though men change and fade,  
Who of those changing elements are made.   

How dare vain worldlings vaunt  
Of fortune's goods not lasting,  
Evils that our wits enchant,  
Exposed to loss and wasting.  
Lo we to death are hasting,  
Whilst we these things discuss.  
All things from their beginning,  
Unto an end are running:  
Heaven hath ordained it thus.  
We hear how heaven doth thunder;  
We see th'earth burst asunder;  
And yet we never ponder,  
What this imports to us.  
Those fearful signs do prove,  
That th'angry powers above  
Are moved to indignation  
Against this wretched nation,  
Which they no longer love:  
What are we but a puff of breath,  
Who live assured of nothing but of death?   

Who was so happy yet,  
As never had some cross:  
Though on a Throne he sit,  
And is not used with loss,  
Yet fortune once will toss  
Him, when that lest he would.  
If one had all at ones  
Hydaspes precious stones,  
And yellow Tagus' gold,  
All th'Orient all treasure,  
And every earthly pleasure,  
Even in the greatest measure,  
It should not make him bold.  
For while he lives secure,  
His state is most unsure.  
When it doth least appear,  
Some heavy plague draws near,  
Destruction to procure.  
We may compare th'earth's glory to a flower,  
That flourisheth and fadeth in an hour.  
In what we most repose  
We find our comfort light:  
The thing we soonest lose  
That's precious in our sight.  
For honour, riches, might  
Our lives impawned we lay:  
Yet all like flying shadows,  
Or flowers enameling meadows,  
Vanish and decay.  
Long time we toil to find  
Those idols of the mind,  
Which got we cannot bind  
T'abide with us one day.  
Then why should we presume  
On treasures that consume,  
Difficile to obtain,  
Difficile to retain,  
A dream, a breath, a fume;  
Which vex them most who them possess,  
Who starve with store, and famish with excess.      

ACTVS QVARTVS.  

Scen. I.  DARIUS, TIRIOTES. Tir. 
AH, must I poison now my PRINCE's ears  
with the worst news that ever burdened fame?  
Had I as many tongues, as I have tears,  
All would not serve my sorrows to proclaim.  Dar. 

Great signs of grief I in thy face discern:  
Spare not for to report this heavy cross  
To one, I fear, whom it doth most concern.  
be't death, disgrace, destruction, treason, loss?   

Tell on the sum of honour at the first:  
With no ambiguous words my pain prolong:  
'Tis comfort to a wretch to know the worst:  
And I have learned to be unhappy long.   

What lest I speak, and yet suspect too much,  
be't some ludibrious message of my scorn,  
Which must wound me? but ah no torment such,  
As this to them who that disgrace have borne.   Tir. 

She was not wronged, as you have misconceived.  
The Gods have had a care for to preserve her:  
Such favour of the victor she received,  
As of her subjects that were bound to serve her.   

But what a volley doth my voice prepare  
Of woes to charge your ears, woes full of dread?  
Would God ere I the some thereof declare,  
That I might die in saying she is dead.   

Cursed caitiff, was it not enough, alas,  
That I beheld her die, and would have died,  
But that I must armed with sad tidings pass  
To wound all them that hear what I have spied?   

See how he fares shot with these words of mine,  
As one become the prey of grief, and death.   Dar. 

Yet doth the Sun on my affliction shine,  
And sees the air infected with my breath.   

And can I live, and look them in the face,  
That have my ignominious o'erthrow seen?  
And how I vanquished, vanquished with disgrace  
Engaged at once my kingdom, and my Queen?   

Heaven bruise me all to powder with thy thunder,  
That I no more may in the world remain  
The object of thy wrath, and Fortune's wonder;  
Spoiled of all hope; yet kept for greater pain.   

Ah! art thou dead, and do I am behind thee?  
Thy faulty husband thinkst thou so to fly?  
If it be thus, than I know where to find thee.  
This only grieves me that too late I die.   

O Alexander, what such heinous ill  
Have I done thee, that thou requit'st me thus?  
Whom of thy friends, or kindred did I kill?  
This cruelty comes undeserved of us.   

Think that thou hadst just causes to make war:  
Yet upon women should thy wrath be wroken?  
This tyranny shall all thy Triumph mar,  
And ever shall to thy reproach be spoken.   Tir. 

Sir, without cause you guilty him esteem.  
I know her death did grievously displease him:  
A wondrous thing (which few, or none would deem)  
He took it so, that nothing could appease him.   

even as my Sovereign now, so then he smarted;  
And when he came to ease your mother's grief,  
As if that his own mother had departed;  
He seemed to need, not for to give relief.   Dar. 

If any sparks of that respect remain,  
Which should with reason move thy mind to ruth,  
I pray the Tiriotes now be plain,  
Or else strange torments shall exact the truth:   

I loathe to let this question scape my mouth,  
Which both I blush to crave, and long to know,  
be't possible so insolent a youth  
Did never tempt the treasure which I owe?   

Could this imperious Prince in flower of age  
Have such a peerless beauty in his power,  
And yet not seek to quench his ardent rage  
With the destruction of her honour's flower?   

Spare not to tell upon what deadly shelf  
My joy is perished quite, and I defaced.  
The fear of evil is worse than th'evil itself:  
it's to die twice, to die, and die disgraced.   Ti. 

Let not those love-bred fears abuse your thought:  
By all the world no fable I contrive.  
If I speak partially, or lie in aught,  
Earth open up, and swallow me alive.   

He whom your Grace so wrongfully suspects,  
No, not in thought, hath once your Queen abused,  
But as his sister still in all respects,  
As chastely, and as honourably used.   

When fortune first our warlike troops had scattered,  
And with great slaughter put them all to flight;  
We, whom she late so lovingly had flattered,  
Were made the patterns of that changelings might.  
For having found a Crown trod on the ground.   Dar. 
O lasting shame that cannot be recured.  Tir. 
We straight imagined that some cruel wound  
Had killed my Lord, and wailed it as assured.  Dar. 
Would God I then had died, as I desired,  
So t'have prevented those ensuing harms;  
Before my honour and my hap expired,  
With Crown on head, & with my Queen in arms.  Tir. 

But Alexander having heard our cries  
Sent one t'inquire th'occasion of our woe;  
Who finding whence our error did arise,  
Gave full assurance that it was not so.   

Then he himself unto our tent resorted,  
And with most courteous speeches full of love  
Your mother, wife, and children oft exhorted  
Such vain surmised terrors to remove.   

With protestation that they should expect  
No harm of him their courage to appall:  
Each thing he did accordingly direct,  
That no man might endamage them at all.   

Thus having them against all dangers armed  
(I think for fear, for who would not have feared  
lest such an Angels graces had him charmed)  
He never more before her face appeared.   

Or was it virtue that would fly the sting  
Of trustless pleasures that abuse the sense?  
So continent a victor, and a king  
Was never seen. He fled what caused offence.   

He doth his fame above all things prefer,  
And will not be where it may blemish find,  
Nor give his eyes commodity to err,  
Nor suffer impure thoughts to stain his mind.   

He staid till that fair face had lost all vigour,  
And with the colours of pale death was painted.   Dar. 
Injurious heaven that with such hellish rigour  
The purest work that nature made hath tainted.  Tir. 

When he beheld death triumph in that face,  
Which late had triumphed o'er a Monarchs heart,  
He moaned no less her miserable case,  
Than you that lost in her your better part.   

And when some days his dolour had overcome,  
Her funerals solemnly to decore  
He used such honour, as might well become  
The Persian pomp in prosperous times before.   Dar. 

O supreme power that of Empires disposest,  
And ratifiest thy will with fearful thunder,  
Who, as thou pleasest, placest, and deposest  
Uncertain worldlings whiles above, whiles under,   

I pray thy Deity in my soul's distress,  
If that th'inhabitants of heaven can hear  
The plaints of those who this low point possess,  
Or that th'immortal can give mortals ear,   

Vouchsafe this my last suit for to fulfil:  
Establish first this sceptre in my hand:  
But if through my deserving, or thy will  
The race of Cyrus must no more command;   

And if thy heavenly breast such hate contracts,  
That I must needs my Diadem forego:  
Let him succeed who proves in all his acts  
So just a Victor, and so mild a foe.    

ACTVS QVARTVS. Scen. II.  DARIUS, ART ABAZUS, NARBAZENES PATRON, BESSUS. Dar. 

IF Fortune had joined me with dastard minds,  
Who to a noble death base life preferred,  
I should not harangue here unto the winds,  
But be content to have my fate deferred.   

O, I repent I proved your worth too much,  
Who still have followed me in all estates.  
I rather should, then doubt that you are such,  
Press to prove worthy of so worthy mates.   

Ye only rest of all that I conducted,  
Of whose great force and faith, which many sing,  
I by two fights, and flights have been instructed:  
Yet having you I think myself a King.   

He hath placed traitors in my towns most ample,  
Not that he honours them (he hates their humour)  
But to seduce you to by their example,  
Then banish all for every little rumour.   

Ye have not to my Fortune had regard,  
But freely-followed my evil fortuned wars:  
Which, though that I might not, jove would reward,  
And all the world extol you to the stars.   

How long shall I a vagabond remain,  
And fly a stranger who my right would reave?  
Since by one battle we may reobtain  
All that we lost, or lose all that we have.   

Like those vile traitors, whom I will arraign  
To hold me up, shall I go cast me down?  
Must Darius only by entreaty reign?  
No, none hath power to take, or give my Crown.   

I shall not my authority survive,  
Nor will I proffer a submissive breath:  
My hand shall hold a sceptre while I live:  
My head shall bear a Diadem till death.   

If those frank thoughts that do possess my soul,  
Such flames of virtue kindled have in you;  
A Macedonian never shall control  
Our noble acts, nor laugh to see us bow.   

My state may testify frail Fortune's change:  
May she not him o'erwhelm, as well as me?  
At least our hands bear death, if not revenge:  
For who can stop a stout heart for to die?   

Think of your ancestors, I you exhort,  
Who made the Grecians tributaries ever;  
And of whose wondrous acts men do report  
Great things, the fame whereof shall perish never.   

Shall future ages in your praise be dumb,  
Whilst they your Father's memory adore?  
I am resolved, my Triumph, or my Tomb  
A Laurel, or a Cypress shall decore.   Art. 

What vain amazement doth disturb our spirits?  
Let us consult no further but go to.  
He, who the Persians wonted worth inherits,  
Will not rest long advising what to do?   

Come let us with our best attire and arms  
Accompany our King to this last strife:  
Through bloody squadrons, and through hot alarms  
By slaughter only we must look for life.   

And when our host, as I hope shall prevail,  
Our country shall have peace, we praise of right:  
And if our Fortune, not our courage, fail,  
We die with honour in our sovereign's sight.   

Let us, if vanquished, be ashamed to be.  
A glorious death may greater honour give.  
Do to o'ercome, and yet not fear to die.  
It's needful that we fight, not that we live,   Na. 

My words will first your Majesty displease:  
Yet duty makes me speak where silence spill:  
The fine Physician cures a sharp disease  
With some sour potion that corruption kills.   

The skilful Pilot when he fears a storm,  
To save the ship will cast out precious things:  
Yet I persuade you not in any form  
To further, but to stay what ruin brings.   

We war against the Gods, we cannot speed:  
To all our actions Fortune is opposed.  
We must of force some other way proceed:  
So have the heavens of our affairs disposed.   

Dear Sir, give o'er the government and style  
To some more happy man, not in effect?  
But clothe him with your shadow for a while,  
Till he your Realms half ruined re-erect.   

When he hath claimed this tempest now so hot,  
And settled Asia with a good success?  
He will your kingdoms lost with what he goat  
Restore: appearance promises no less.   

All Bactria yet abides at your command:  
The Indians, lo, would die to do you good:  
Yea many thousand thousands armed stand,  
Bent for your pleasure to bestow their blood.   

What? should we rush like beasts to needless strife?  
Be well prepared, and then pursue that stranger:  
Brave minds should death despise not loathing life.  
Base cowards crave to die for fear of danger.   

But virtue, to have no support o'er past,  
Will first on all means possible be thinking:  
And when that all is proved, death is the last,  
To which it is enough to go not shrinking.   

Now for the time let Bactria be our seat,  
To Bessus for the form your Crown resign:  
Who, when he once hath readvanced you state,  
Shall quite all sovereignty at the first sign.   Dar. 
Wretch, travelest thou thy sovereign to betray?  
Such treason darest thou to our ears impart?  
Such treason under trust? Stay traitor, stay:  
I'll sheathe my sword even in thy traitorous heart.  Art. 

Sir, you must strive to have this passion broken.  
Consider what they are, what is the time:  
It may be they through ignorance have spoken:  
In thought, and not in word, consists a crime.   

Since to affront your enemy you go,  
You must not stir for every little object:  
But tolerate your own, t'offend your foe.  
For now it's time time to love not lose a subject.   

I shall get trial upon what pretence  
This oversight in advise hath been committed.  
If through simplicity, not for offence,  
He must be pardoned and his speech remitted.   Dar. 
I wish that it were so. I take no pleasure  
To ruin them that would my fortune cherish.  Na. 

Your grace will grant me mercy in some measure.  
First hear, and if I fail then let me perish.   

I call the Gods to witness of my case,  
Who can decipher every secret thought:  
If I intended treason toward your Grace,  
Straight where I stand let me be turned to nought.   

I counseled but according to my skill:  
It was my upright mind that made me bold.  
I rue my wit not answered to my will:  
Yet zeal what it conceives must needs unfold.   

We should beware to speak in great affairs,  
Where words are damned, or balanced by th'event.  
For if things fail, the fault is still thought theirs  
Who gave th'advise, though of a good intent.   

I fall before your feet here for refuge:  
Then let me not be without cause rejected:  
At least, examine first before you judge:  
I'll rather die absolved, then live suspected.   Dar. 

Your fond opinion first was to be feared,  
Which seemed indeed sinistrously inclined:  
For at the first your speech to me appeared  
Th'envenomed birth of some malicious mind.   

But since you purge you so, I'll not arraign you,  
Not further call your loyalty in doubt:  
But in the same degree of grace retain you,  
That you were in before these words broke out.   

I think that Patron looks with speaking eyes,  
As if his mind were mightily perplexed:  
Come, Patron, tell what in thy bosom lies,  
Wherewith thou seemest so wonderfully vexed.   Pa. 

Sir, I would speak in privy, If I could,  
That which th'affection of my soul affords:  
It must be sealed with silence, and I would  
That none were present to report my words.   

Of fifty thousand Greeks four only rest,  
Companions in all perils with your host:  
Alike with you delighted and distressed:  
As faithful now as when you flourished most.   

Where you remain we must remain with you:  
All kind of fortunes have us joined together.  
Appoint our tents for your Pavilion now;  
And we will guard you, if that you come thither.   

We have abandoned Greece, our native soil:  
We have no Bactria to be our retreat:  
Our hope is all in you: those that would spoil  
Us of your person ruin all our state.   

Would God that all your army did their due:  
To use more words th'occasion is not fit.  
I should not urge you, if your own were true,  
Your custody to strangers to commit.   Dar. 
What sudden accident doth this dismay you  
That you such inconveniences forecast?  Pa. 

Sir, Bessus and Narbazanes betray you!  
This day to you, or them will be the last.   

They feign repentance only to dissemble,  
Till every thing be for the fact prepared.  
Their friends in haste do all their force assemble,  
And once ere night mind to invade your guard.   Dar. 

I credit you: but yet I cannot wrong  
My subjects so, to think of them the worst:  
Shall I leave them who followed me so long?  
By doing so to make myself accursed.   

I will await on what the heavens will offer,  
For who can stand when fates his fall conspire?  
Among mine own I willingly will suffer.  
I live too long if they my death desire.   Bes. 

Take heed, Sir, to this subtle-witted Greek:  
The Grecian faith to all the world is known.  
I am informed he by all means doth seek  
To win his grace who hath your state o'erthrown.   

And marvel not though mercenary men,  
Who sell themselves, sell all: believe them never.  
They have no God but gold, nor house: how then  
Can they be constant that are changing ever?   

Although that he preoccupy you thus,  
And others who themselves abuse your Grace:  
Faith shall be found inviolate in us,  
When our accuser dare not show his face.   Dar. 
Who hope to have of Alexander gain,  
Or honour to be false, they have no reason:  
No man on earth doth traitors more disdain,  
Nor more severely will b'avenged on treason.  Bes. 
Well, Sir, you shall see shortly what we are:  
I will go see your Ensigns all displayed.  Dar. 

It's better now since things are gone so far,  
Then seem for to mistrust, to be betrayed.   

Lo Artabazus, I have acted here  
My part of greatness, and my glass is run.  
Now patron's speech doth evident appear.  
I see my end, yet can it no way shun.   Art. 
The Bactrians only meddled have with this.  
Go to the Grecians camp, when that is done.  
And when your danger once divulged is,  
The Persians all will follow after soon.  Dar. 

And what if I were gone to patron's Tent,  
And guarded with the Greeks as you desire:  
He hath but thousands four that are well bent;  
They thirty thousand that my fall conspire.   

And doing this I should their deed excuse,  
In giving them a motion who have might.  
They may indeed my lenity abuse:  
But by my deed they shall pretend no right.   Art. 
O deplorable Prince, who can but weep  
To see thee now reduced to this estate?  Dar. 

Retire you all, and seek yourselves to keep:  
I here attend the issue of my fate.   

I know ye wonder all how I can stand,  
Down from the top of all contentment thrown,  
And not die desperately by mine own hand.  
I'll die through other's guilt, not through mine own.   

None of you all have falsified your troth,  
But with me loyal still to th'end ye abide.  
Now I you all disburden of your oath:  
Leave me alone, and for yourselves provide. Exeunt.   DARIUS. 

O Wretched Monarchy, vain mortals' choice,  
The glorious step to a disgraceful fall:  
Our power depends upon the people's voice,  
And to seem sovereign needs we must serve all.  
Yet blown, like blathers, with ambition's wind,  
On envied sceptres weakly we rely:  
And calling not our frail estate to mind,  
Not only earth, but heavens themselves defy.   

This hellish hag our restless mind doth toss,  
While carried with a popular applause,  
T'enlarge our limits with our neighbour's loss,  
We of our own confusions are the cause.   

And when th'eclipse comes of our glories light,  
Then what avails th'adoring of our name:  
A mere illusion made to mock the sight,  
Whose best was but the shadow of a dream?   

Let greatness of her glass sceptres vaunt;  
Not sceptres, no, but reeds, soon bruised soon broken:  
And let this worldly pomp our wits enchant.  
All fades, and scarcely leaves behind a token.   

Those golden Palaces, those gorgeous halls,  
With furniture superfluously fair:  
Those stately Courts, those sky-encountering walls  
Evanish all like vapours in the air.   

O what affliction jealous greatness bears,  
That still must travel to hold others down;  
Whilst all our guards not guard us from our fears?  
So grievous is the burden of a Crown.   

Where are they all who at my feet did bow,  
While I was made the idol of so many?  
What joy had I not then? what have I now?  
Then honoured of all, now scarce of any.   

Our painted pleasures but apparel pain:  
We spend our days in dread, our lives in dangers,  
Balls to the stars, and thralls to Fortune's reign,  
Known unto all, yet to ourselves but strangers.   

A golden Crown doth cover leaden cares:  
The Sceptre cannot lull their thoughts asleep,  
Whose breasts are fraught with infinite despairs,  
Of which the vulgar wits sounds not the deep.   

The Bramble grows, although it be obscure;  
While mighty Cedars feel the blustering winds:  
And mild Plebeian spirits may am secure,  
While mighty tempests toss imperial minds.   

What are our days, but dreams, our reigns but trances,  
Whilst brainsick reaving with our Fortune's fever.  
We still are vexed with changes and mischances,  
Till death us both from life and sceptre sever?   

The vanity of greatness I have proved,  
And been the wonder of each gazing eye:  
Now that deceiving shadow is removed;  
And I my wretched state too late espy.   

Now bound with chains, (which though they be of gold,  
Diminish not my thraldom ought the more)  
When this preposterous honour I behold,  
It but upbraids me what I was before.   

And what was I before (though to each eye  
The form of my affliction was not known)  
But fettered in effect, while I seemed free,  
And in a labyrinth of labours thrown?  
Was I not bound to serve then all men's humour,  
Or to be censured with some Critic story;  
Still clogged with cares, as slought for every rumour.  
O glorious bondage, burden-able glory.   

That dignity which deified me late,  
And made the world do homage to my name,  
Now cannot succour my accursed state,  
But hath with my misfortune feathered same.   

My best was but a momentary bliss,  
Which leaves behind this everlasting sting,  
That of all woe no woe is like to this,  
To think I was, and am not now a King.   

No man with me in all accomplished joys,  
That satisfy the soul, could once compare:  
No man may match me now in sad annoys,  
And all the miseries that breed despair.   

Thrice Fortune did my gallant troops entrap,  
And I to fall did desperately stand;  
Yet could not be so happy in mishap,  
As for t'have died by some renowned hand.   

But for my greater grief, disgrace, and scorn,  
(The minds of men so apt are to deceive)  
They whom aloft my favours wings have borne,  
even they made me their master thus a slave.   

Ah, did not death in prison from me reave  
The sacred sovereign of my soul's desires,  
I wretch not being present to receive  
The last cold kiss that might assuage my fires?   

Yet o thrice happy thou, that hast not lived  
To bear a burden of this great disgrace.  
More than a thousand deaths this had thee grieved,  
To know I died, and died in such a case.   

Ah, do the pledges of our mutual love  
(The only comfort that the fates have left me)  
Rest prisoned yet? And may I not remove  
My mother thence? then is all bliss bereft me.   

My pains are more than with my pleasures even,  
Since first I in authority did enter.  
Was I exalted once up to the heaven,  
To be cast headlong down to mischiefs centre?   

My ample Empire, and my Princely birth,  
My great magnificence, and vain excess,  
All cannot yield my mind one minutes mirth,  
To ease me now in this extreme distress.   

Lo here, reduced unto the worst of ills,  
Past help, past hope, and only great in grief,  
I wait upon two abject vassals wills,  
And dare not, no, not think upon relief.   

Death would I scorn (my course must once have run)  
If I had first repaired mine honour's breach,  
Whose wounds so thrill my soul, as unbegun  
The life I wish that does my fame impeach.   

This mortal vail I willingly resign,  
Since to an end my days the destinies bring:  
Nor will I so from Majesty decline,  
As to do aught unworthy of a King. Exit.   

CHORUS.  

SOme new disaster day lie doth for show  
Our coming ruin: We have seen our best.  
Now fortune bent us utterly t'o'erthrow,  
Throws down our King from her wheels top so low,  
As by no means his state can be redressed.  
And since his foes by arms have him oppressed,  
His friends, and servants leave him all alone.  
Few have compassion of his state distressed:  
Yea, false to him themselves do many show.  
So foes and feigned friends conspire in one;  
Frail Fortune, and the fates with them agree.  
With axes all run on this falling tree.   

This Prince in prosperous state hath flourished long,  
And never dreamed of any evil success,  
But was well followed while his state was strong:  
Him flattering sirens with a charming song  
Strived to exalt: whileas he did possess  
This earthly dross, that with a vain excess  
He might reward their mercenary love.  
But now when fortune drives him to distress,  
His favourites whom he remained among,  
With foes and fortune straight their faith remove.  
And who for gain to follow him were wont,  
They after gain by his destruction hunt.   

O more than happy ten times were that King,  
Who were unhappy but a little space,  
So that it did no utter ruin bring,  
But made him prove (a profitable thing)  
Who of his train, did best deserve his grace;  
Then could, and would of those the best embrace,  
And fly such vultures as devour him living;  
That these whom he found faithful might have place.  
O how this doth a generous stomach sting,  
To see some graced for craft and lies contriving?  
This is the grief that bursts an honest heart;  
Lords favour comes by chance, not by desert.   

Those Minions to whom Princes do extend,  
Above their worth, immoderate goodwill,  
To the disgrace of good men, show in end  
They only in prosperity depend  
Not upon them, but on their Fortune still.  
Which if it change, they change. then though they fill,  
Their hopes with honour, and their chests with coin  
Yet if they fall, or their affairs go ill,  
Those whom they raised, will not with them descend,  
But with th'ascending Sun will straight way join.  
And do forget all that they gave before,  
For that of them they can expect no more.   

The truth hereof in end now hath th'event  
In Bessus, and Narbazanes approved:  
On whom their Prince so prodigally spent  
Affection, honour, titles, treasure, rent,  
And all that might each honest mind have moved  
So bountiful a Prince for to have loved,  
Who so benignly tendered their estate.  
Yet they to him vile traitors now have proved:  
By them he is enchained, disgraced and shent;  
So as he well may rue, although too late,  
That he such sly Chameleons changing hue  
Preferred to servants dutiful and true.   

But though a while those traitors speed,  
No doubt the heavens once vengeance will exact:  
The very horror of this heinous deed  
Doth make the hearts of honest men to bleed:  
Yea, even the wicked hate this barbarous act:  
The heavens no higher choler can contract,  
Then for th'invasion of a sacred King:  
Who, as it were, out of the stars extract,  
Should fear and reverence inferiors breed,  
To whom from him both health and wealth doth spring.  
But though on earth men should neglect this wrong,  
Heavens will those traitor's plague ere it be long.      

ACTVS QVINTUS.  

Scen. I.  HEPHESTION, ALEXANDER, POLISTRATUS. He. 

WHat story or what fable can record  
Of such a nombrous troop so strangely lost?  
I know they quaked to know it was my Lord,  
Whose name alone is worth another's host.   

It scarce seems credible in many parts:  
But traitors fear though all the world would back them.  
They were but bodies destitute of hearts:  
More prisoners they were then men to take them.   

Who would believe so few durst strive to find  
So great an army, and the army shrinks  
What is impossible to a brave mind?  
True valour dare attempt all that it thinks   Alex. 

In this encounter for t'have had the best  
It would content more than a common thought:  
But since we want the chief, what of the rest?  
I would be satisfied in all, or nought.   

Those traitors thought t'have finished all the war  
With giving me their Lord, whom they had bound:  
But I distrust not mine own force so far,  
As for to build upon so base a ground.   

Although indeed that Darius did me wrong,  
I will not suffer others to oppress him.  
I keep him for myself: he doth belong  
To me alone: none other should distress him.   

Whilst he did only in himself confide,  
I laboured by all means to make him bow:  
But since his hard estate abates that pride,  
Turned is my fury to compassion now.   

Although he oft contemned me by his letter,  
Yet I am grieved to see him so deceived.  
If he had but acknowledged me his better,  
'Twas not his blood, nor kingdom that I craved.   

And if those traitors have not killed him straight,  
Yet his delivery shall my name renown:  
I would not lose a subject of such weight,  
By which my clemency might be made known:   Po. 
Sir, now your coming cannot do him good.  Al. 
What all are fled? none have my force withstood?  Po. 
Yet Darius cannot be redeemed again.  Al. 
Why, have they set him free? or is he slain?  Po. 
Now hath he got a liberty at last  
With no less ransom than his dearest breath.  Al. 
Then is all Asia's expectation past.  
Tell on at length the manner of his death.  Po. 

The boiling ardour of th'ascending Sun  
Had caused in me a moisture parching drought,  
Which made me from the way a little run,  
To find some fountain to refresh my mouth,   

Their where a source her liquours softly scatters,  
Which shadowed was from Titan's parching beams,  
I cooled my thirst with the cold crystal waters.  
Which seemed to murmur that I forced their streams.   

When lo I saw (a lamentable sight)  
Two wounded horses draw a bloody coach,  
All clad with skins in most uncomely plight,  
Which narrowly t'spy I did approach.   

One was within, who could not long escape  
The doubtful passage of th'infernal gates:  
Yet majesty triumphing o'er mishap,  
He seemed to threaten fortune; and the Fates,   

And as not to so base a fortune borne,  
While all his blood abundantly devaled,  
Burst forth into these words in Fortune's scorn,  
As one whose courage could not be appalled,   

You gaze to see, and have good cause wherefore,  
A man, no man; a King, no King; what monster?  
Now less than nought, who once was both, & more:  
Which few now by my present state would construe.   

And yet amidst my evils I must rejoice,  
That this last comfort doth forego my end:  
I speak to one that understands my voice,  
And not in vain my dying-speeches spend.   

I am, but how? in name, but not in power,  
That wretched Darius (which I should suppress)  
Once happy, as you heard, but at this hour  
The very pattern of extreme distress;   

Then a while pausing after thus proceeded:  
Tell Alexander these last words from me:  
Although my hatred still towards him exceeded,  
Yet I am forced far in his debt to die.   

I thank him highly for his great goodwill,  
My mother, wife, and children so preserving.  
Pray him t'use them that rest as gently still  
For his own goodness sake, not my deserving.   

They to his foe pertain, and yet he strives  
To have them honoured now, as in times past:  
But those who held of me both lands and lives,  
Of land and life have me deprived at last.   

I pray you on my part entreat him thus  
Not to permit that unrevenged below  
My ghost do wander. By his care of us  
That men his justice, and their fault may know.   

Beside the honour, which he shall acquire  
In plaguing them that have betrayed my trust;  
Men shall his magnanimity admire,  
And fear t'offend him whom they find so just.   

Lo, all my pomp is past, my time expired:  
My wealth evanished like watery bubbles.  
o'er many a mighty people I empired:  
Yet hath my life been but a stage of troubles.   

And since my glass is run, my glory gone,  
And I dead to the world, the world to me;  
I wish that all parts of th'earth's globe in one  
May condescend his subjects for to be.   

Then drooping down, faint, bloodless, and half dead,  
He prayed to give him water that stood by.  
(A small request by such a Monarch made)  
Which when that he had goat: yet, ere I die,   

This cross must come (said he) t'undo me quite:  
Though most parts of the world once homage ought me;  
I have not now the power for to requite  
This little benefit that thou hast brought me.   

But Alexander shall reward thee well;  
And him the heavens, who hath not done amiss,  
To those that have been mine: his foe must tell  
That undeserved courtesy of his.   

Though none have power his pleasure to control;  
If he entreat them well whom he retains;  
It will procure no small rest to my soul,  
And make him famous, while the world remains.   

When my spirit parts out of this tent of clay,  
Entreat some with my burial to take order;  
lest churlish Charon force me for to stray  
An un-respected ghost on Stygian border.   

Let first my corpse be carried to my mother,  
Who may it with my ancestors entomb:  
And, as she hath more cause than any other,  
May wail this woeful burden of her womb.   

In pledge of that affection, which I bear  
Thy sovereign's worth, whom now I must see never,  
Have here a PRINCE's hand, I hold him dear,  
And recommend me to his grace for ever.   

I scarce had got his hand, or touched his vesture,  
When like a torch whose wax and week is spent,  
Somewhat perplexed, yet with a princely gesture,  
He died in peace: his spirit appeared content.   Alex. 

Who could refrain from tears to hear declared  
The desolation of this wretched wight:  
Have subjects slain their prince whom strangers spared?  
Us hath he fled, that perish thus he might?   

I for his fall am wonderfully sorry,  
Who Nestor's age was worthy t'have attained:  
I envy death, because it robbed the glory,  
Which I in giving him his life had gained.   Hep. 

Since death hath put a period to his woes,  
The favour that towards him you thought t'extend,  
Convert to furor now against his foes.  
For your designs can have no fairer end.   

So shall you both attain perpetual praise,  
And win their hearts who see their Lord revenged,  
Then reap no little profit in your days,  
To have the country of such vipers clenged.   

If but one virtue should adorn a King,  
It should be justice: many great defects  
Are veiled thereby; whereas each virtuous thing  
In one that is unjust, the world suspects.   Alex. 

Although your counsel, or yet his request  
Had not the power to penetrate my ears:  
A generous stomach could not well digest  
So great a wrong: my mind it hardly bears.   

My spirit impatient of repose disdains  
That they so long this infamy survive.  
But I will punish with most grievous pains  
The horrid treason that they did contrive.   

What? do they think, deceived with some illusion.  
That Bactria is a bulwark for my ire?  
Fly where they list, they cannot scape confusion:  
My wrath shall follow like consuming fire.   

Heaven cannot be a sanctuary for them:  
I dare to force th'infernal caves adventure:  
Th'earth cannot keep them safe, if I abhor them:  
I'll search them out though they were in the centre.   

And having gotten once those malefactors,  
Betwixt the bending boughs of two strong trees,  
Unto th'eternal terror of all traitors,  
They shall dismembered be before my eyes.   Pol. 
Sir, may it please your Grace to take some care,  
That some his funeral offices perform.  Alex. 
Go presently and every thing prepare  
According to the military form.   

ACTVS QVINTUS. Scen. 2.  SISIGAMBIS, NVNTIVS, CHORUS. Sisi. 

THis look, alas, hath fraught my soul with fears,  
Speak, for my life doth on thy lips depend:  
Thy countenance (ah) a doleful copy bears  
Of some sad summons to denounce my end.   

Starve not my ears with famish for thy words:  
That swallowed yet may make my heart to burst.   Nun. 
madam the message that my soul affords  
Must once be known, and once known still accursed,  Sis. 
Be not a niggard of evil news.  Nun. 
And why?  Sis. 
Fame will tell the world.  Nun. 
But first to you.  Sis. 
Tell soon.  Nun. 
Your son is dead.  Sis. 
Then let me die.  Cho. 
Her joys and pleasures are all perished now.  Sis. 

Why opens not the earth for to devour  
A cursed caitiff, that all joy hath lost?  
The longer that I live, my grief grows more:  
Borne I am to mischief, kept to be crossed.   

Would God this body in mishaps abounding  
Were covered with some mountain of huge weight;  
Or else that th'Ocean o'er these fields inunding  
Might make my burial in her bosom straight.   

O Alexander, hast thou robbed his life,  
Yet entertained me still in hope to find him?  
Why didst thou not first kill this poor old wim  
Who was not worthy to have lived behind hi?   

Ah, tended all thy courtesy to this,  
That I should live till thou hast slain my son?   Nun. 
You wrong that worthy Prince: for he and his  
Came him to help, who was ere then undone.  Sis. 
What impious hands durst one that wore a crown,  
And was thereof most worthy, murder so?  Nun. 
Two whom himself raised up have cast him down:  
More faithful than his own he found his foe.  Sis. 

Tell on thy message, message of my death,  
And load my mind with all mischief and horror:  
That in sad sighs I may dissolve my breath,  
Whilst thou relat'st these tidings full of terror.   Nun. 

When Alexander eftsoons back had sent  
Th'ambassadors that peace had sought in vain,  
A general muster, than to try th'event  
Of doubtful Mars, King Darius did ordain,   

And in one battle to adventure all  
Intending, caused his will to be proclaimed,  
While two vile traitors did conspire his fall,  
Who Bessus, and Narbazanes were named.   

These two in counsel did discover first  
Some portion of the poison of their heart:  
Which caused the King suspect, but not the worst.  
Yet with a sword he sought to make them smart.   

But having scaped the first brunt of his rage,  
With tears of Crocodiles they so lamented,  
As they his indignation did assuage,  
Whilst in appearance only they repented.   

They came to Artabazus, honest man,  
Who judged of others by his upright mind,  
And could not, or through bounty would not scan  
What they with craft and malice had designed.   Chor. 
A sincere mind is ever least suspicious:  
They think all faulty who themselves are vicious.  Nun. 

They urged him with the King to intercede.  
That in his favour he would give them place;  
With promise that by some notorious deed  
Of arms they would seek to deserve his grace.   

He in their favour first informed the King,  
The battle would bear witness of their truth;  
Then both before his majesty did bring,  
Who was by their submission moved to ruth.   

Their hands stretched up to heaven, & humbled knees,  
Their tears like those the Crocodiles do shed,  
Woe in their face, and pity in their eyes  
Did for compassion and for mercy plead.   

The king of nature mild, prompt to receive them,  
While they dissembledly were thus complaining,  
Not only of his lenity forgave them,  
But wept in earnest too while they were feigning.   

Then as he used, his danger now not feeling,  
He mounted to his Coach: they came behind  
With a submissive voice most humbly kneeling  
To him, whom shortly they were bent to bind.   

The Grecian Captain followed them with speed,  
Who being called, and asked what he desired,  
Solicited the King to take good heed  
Of those that had against his life conspired.   

He told him how he had their treason tried,  
And seen the Bactrians to a tumult bent;  
Then prayed him for his safety to provide,  
In going with him to his trusty tent.   

The King grown careless, and his safety shunning  
Refused this offer on affection grounded.  
Or with some powerful fate his fall foreruning,  
Was carried headlong thus to be confounded.   

The Greek passed thence despairing of his safety,  
Who thus recureless help and health refused.  
Then Bessus did begin with speeches crafty  
To purge himself, and errors past excused.   

The King then Artabazus did command  
T'approach, and patron's speech at length reported:  
He then did doubt what danger was at hand,  
And to go with the Greek his Grace exhorted.   

But when he found this resolution placed,  
Within his breast, no peril for to fly:  
With mutual tears each other they embraced,  
Parting like two, that living went to die,   

Now silent night in pitchy vapours clad  
Had mustered mists, and marched unto the West,  
A shadowy horror o'er the earth was spread,  
The Sentinels were set, and all at rest.   

When a strange terror troubled all the host:  
The multitudes did murmur in all parts:  
They did resemble ships in storms near lost,  
Whilst each to th'other cause of fears imparts.   

Those who their King appointed were to guard  
All shrunk away to corners none stayed there:  
And having to his danger no regard  
His better-fortunes Minions fled else where.   

The desolation then was wondrous great:  
With a few Eunuchs Darius left alone  
Did enter deeply to revolve his state,  
And thus bespoke them; who did for him moan.   

Depart in peace and for yourselves provide,  
lest ye be likewise with my ruin caught:  
I will the issue of my fate abide:  
They hearing this, as of their wits distraught   

Went howling through the host with dolorous cries:  
This made the King as dead to be bewailed.  
And in the army did a rumour rise,  
That he had killed himself, when all hope failed.   

The Persians grieved, while these things did occur,  
Did first encourage all their country bands  
To help their Prince: but yet they durst not stir  
For fear of falling in the Bactrians hands.   

even in the time when this confusion was  
The traitors, to defer the fact no more,  
Did to their sovereign's own Pavilion pass,  
And rook, and bound him, whom they served before.   

He, who in golden coach superbly rode,  
Was cast in one for basest carriage used:  
And who of late was honoured like a God,  
By servants as a bond slave was abused.   

Those royal hands to bear a sceptre borne  
Were bound with chains: this also much did grieve him  
That fortune his adversity would scorn  
With golden bands, that served not to relieve him.   

Then Alexander, having heard in end  
That Darius came not forward to affront him,  
To find him out did all his forces bend,  
Not doubting but he eftsoons would surmount him.  
But being at the last at length informed  
How he was made a Captive to his own,  
At this indignity he highly stormed,  
And swore he would avenge it by his crown.   

Out of his host he did select a few,  
Who were best horsed, whose equipage was light:  
With whom his foes he did so fast pursue,  
That, ere they could suspect, he came in sight.   

The traitors troubled with this he had done  
Came to the Cart wherein the King was carried,  
And bade him mount on horse back, and flee soon,  
lest that his foe should take him if he tarried.   

He looked aloft, and cried aloud: this day  
Th'eternal justicer sees through the stars:  
I will not with such perjured rebels stay,  
And fly from him, who moves but honest wars.   

Then those in whom impiety abounds,  
Throwed darts at him whom they should have defended  
And hurt the horses with an hundredth wounds.  
While they performed the Parricide intended.   

Their hands were feeble, as their hearts untrue:  
For when their foes began them once to cumber,  
The traitors first, than all the traitorous crew  
Fled them, who were inferior far in number.   

But to the confines of deaths kingdom brought  
The King retired out from the way aside,  
More wounded with ingratitude then ought,  
Did fly the world whose follies he had tried.   

Scarce was the lasting last divorcement made  
Twixt soul and body whilst that th'eyes grew dim  
When Alexander came, and found him dead,  
Who long had laboured for t'have ruined him.   

Yet with the vesture which himself then wore  
He covered the dead corpse, and not eschewed it;  
But e'en with tears his coffin did decore,  
To the great wonder of all them that viewed it.   

And having wailed his death above all measure,  
For t'have his funerals made in Princely wise  
He bids you spare no cost, but use his treasure,  
And them, as best becomes, to solemnize.   

He hath his body hither sent by me,  
That the last honours you to him may do:  
He thinks they so shall best accomplished be,  
And who him bore shall see him buried to.   Cho. 
Behold how grief hath her of sense bereft,  
And choked her breath with superabounding groans,  
No will or power to live is to her left,  
Since all her weal evanished is at ones.  Sis. 

Ah shall I see (no let me first be blind)  
That body breathless, which I brought to light?  
Where would my soul a force sufficient find  
T'endure the dolour of that deadly sight.   

O flinty hardened heart, that wilt not break  
With the remembrance of so many woes,  
Why partest thou not, faint spirit, that whilst I speak,  
In opening of my lips mine eyes might close?   

This heritage of death, this withered stock  
Is but a receptacle of despairs:  
A torture to itself, a stumbling block,  
Whose aged furrows fertile are in cares.   

What helps it now to have been made the mother  
Of one who to such dignity did climb?  
More miserable now then any other,  
I live to wail my death, who died in him.   

ay me, malicious Fates have done me wrong:  
Who came first to the world should first depart.  
It not becomes the old t'o'erlive the young:  
This dealing is preposterous and o'erthwart.   

Ah, why should death so indiscreet be found  
To save a caitiff, and confound a Prince:  
My half-dead body, weighed down to the ground,  
Through grief is grown ripe for the grave long since.   

CHORUS.  

WHat makes vain worldlings so to swell with pride,  
Who came of earth, and to the earth return?  
So hellish furies with their fire brands burn  
Proud and ambitious men, as they devise  
Them from themselves, and so turmoil their minds,  
That all their time they study still  
How to content a boundless will,  
Which never yet a full contentment finds.  
Who so this flame within his bosom smothers  
Doth many fantasies contrive,  
And even forgets himself alive,  
To be remembered after death by others.  
Thus while he is his pains are never ended;  
That while he is not, he may be commended.   

What can this help the happiness of Kings,  
So to subdue their neighbours, as they do,  
And make strange nations tributaries to?  
The greater state the greater trouble brings.  
Their pomps and triumphs, stands them in no stead:  
Their Arches, Tombs, pyramids high,  
And Statues are but vanity:  
They die, and yet would live in what is dead:  
And while they live, we see their glorious actions  
Oft wrested to the worst: and all their life  
Is but a stage of endless toil and strife,  
Of tumults, uproars, mutinies, and factions.  
They rise with fear, and lie with danger down:  
There is no burden weightier than a Crown.   

And as Ambition Princes undermines;  
So doth it those that under them rule all.  
We see in how short time they rise, and fall;  
How oft their light eclipsed but dimly shines.  
They study by all shifts and slights to move  
Their Prince of their deserts t'account:  
And when they by his favour mount,  
O what a danger is't to be above?  
For straight exposed to hatred, and despite,  
With all their skill they cannot march so even,  
But some opprobrious scandal will be given:  
For all men envy those that have most might.  
And if the King dislike them once, then straight  
The wretched Courtiers fall with their own weight.   

Some of a poorer Spirit, who would be praised,  
And yet have not wherefore to be esteemed,  
What they are not indeed would feign be deemed,  
And indirectly labour to be raised.  
This crew each public place of honour haunts,  
And changing garments every day  
While they would hide, do but bewray  
With outward ornaments their inward wants.  
And men of better judgement justly loathe  
Those, who in outward shows place all their care,  
And deck their bodies, while their minds are bare,  
Like to a shadow, or a painted cloth.  
The multitude, who but th'apparel notes,  
Doth homage not to them, but to their coats.   

Yet Princes must be served, and with all sorts,  
Some both to do, and counsel what is best:  
Some serve for Ciphers to set out the rest,  
Like live less pictures, that adorn the ports.  
Fair palaces replenished are with fears:  
Those seeming pleasures are but snares:  
The Royal rob doth cover cares,  
Th' Assyrian die dear buyth he, that it bears.  
Those dainty delicates, and far fetched food  
Oft through suspicion savour out of season:  
Embroidered beds and tapestries hatch treason:  
The golden goblets mingled are with blood.  
Such glorious gorgeous shows do serve for nought:  
All cannot calm the tempest of the thought.   

O happy he, who far from fame at home  
Doth sit securely by a quiet fire,  
Who hath not much, and doth not much desire,  
Nor curious is to learn who go, or come,  
For satisfied with what his father left  
His mind he measures by his store,  
And is not pined to gape for more;  
Nor eats aught that iniquity hath reft:  
He hath his little cleanly, and in peace,  
And looks not with suspicious eye.  
No poison comes in Cups of tree:  
No treason harbours in so poor a place.  
No troublous dream doth interrupt his sleep:  
A quiet conscience doth his cottage keep.   

He doth not study oft what storms may blow:  
His poverty cannot be much impaired:  
He fears no foreign force, and craves no guard:  
None coveteth his spoil, none looks so low:  
Where as the great are commonly once crossed,  
As Darius hath been in his flower,  
Or Sisigambis at this hour,  
Who hath scaped long, and now at length is lost.  
But how comes this that Potentates oft fall,  
Forced to confess th' afflictions of their soul?  
There is some higher power that can control  
The Monarchs of the earth, and censure all,  
Who once will call their doings to account,  
Their pride repressing, who t'oppress were prompt.      
W. A.  
Finis.