Still reeking, hurl my black polluted breast.
Heph. O sacred sir, that must not be.
Eum. Forgive my pious hands.

Lys. And mine, that dare disarm my master. Alex. Yes, cruel men, ye now can shew your strength!

Here's not a slave but dares oppose my justice;
Yet I will render all endeavours vain,
That tend to save my life-Here I will lie [Falls.
Close to his bleeding side, thus kissing him,
These pale dead lips, that have so oft advised me ;
Thus bathing o'er his reverend face in tears;
Thus clasping his cold body in my arms,
Till death, like him, has made me stiff and horrid.
Heph. What shall we do?

Lys. I know not, my wounds bleed afresh With striving with him: Perdiccas, lend us your

arm. [Exeunt PERDICCAS, LYSIMACHUS. Heph. Call Aristander hither,

Or Meleager; let us force him from the body. [Cries without-Arm! Arm! Treason, Treason! Enter PERDICCAS bloody.

Per. Haste, all take arms! Hephestion, where's the king?

Per. Then misery on misery will fall, Like rolling billows, to advance the storm. Rise, sacred sir, and haste to aid the queen; Roxana, filled with furious jealousy, Came with a guard of Zogdian slaves unmasked, And broke upon me with such sudden rage, That all are perished, who resistance made: I only with these wounds, through clashing spears, Have forced my way, to give you timely notice. Alex. What says Perdiceas? Is the queen in danger?

Per. She dies, unless you turn her fate, and quickly:

Your distance from the palace asks more speed, And the ascent to the flying grove is high.

Alex. Thus from the grave I rise to save my

love!

Compton

1933 Ellen Roy Turner Perfection

SCENE I.

STATIRA is discovered sleeping in the bower of SEMIRAMIS; the spirits of Queen Statirá, her Mother, and DARIUS, appear standing on each side of her, with daggers, threatening her. They sing.

Dar. Is innocence so void of cares,
That it can undisturbed sleep,

Amidst the noise of horrid wars,

?

That make immortal spirits weep
Stat. No boding crows, nor ravens come,
To warn her of approaching doom.

Dar. She walks, as she dreams, in a garden of flowers,

And her hands are employed in the beautiful bowers;

She dreams of the man that is far from the grove, And all her soft fancy stills runs on her love. Stat. She nods o'er the brooks, that run purling along,

And the nightingales lull her more fast with a song.

Dar. But see the sad end which the gods have decreed.

Stat. This poniard's thy fate.
Dar. My daughter must bleed.

Chorus. Awake then, Statira, awake, for alas

you must die;

Ere an hour be past, you must breathe out your last.

Dar. And be such another as I.

Stat. As I.

Chorus. And be such another as I. [Exeunt, STATIRA sola.

Stat. Bless me, ye powers above, and guard
my virtue!

I saw, nor was't a dream, I saw and heard
My royal parents, there I saw them stand;
My eyes beheld their precious images;

I heard their heavenly voices: Where, O where
Fled you so fast, dear shades, from my embraces?
You told me this-this hour should be my last,
And I must bleed-Away, 'tis all delusion!
Do I not wait for Alexander's coming?
None but my loving lord can enter here:
And will he kill me?-hence, fantastic shadows!
And yet methinks he should not stay thus long-
Why do I tremble thus? If I but stir,

The motion of my robes makes my heart leap.
When will the dear man come, that all my doubts
May vanish in his breast? That I may hold him
Fast as my fears can make me; hug him close
As my fond soul can wish; give all my breath
In sighs and kisses; swoon, die away with rapture!
But hark! I hear him-
[Noise within.

Fain I would hide my blushes

I hear his tread, but dare not go to meet him.

Enter ROXANA, with slaves and a dagger.
Rox. At length we've conquered this stupen-
dous height,

These flying groves, whose wonderful ascent
Leads to the clouds.

Stat. Then all the vision's true,
And I must die, lose my dear lord for ever:
That, that's the murderer.

Ror. Shut the brazen gate,

And make it fast with all the massy bars.
I know the king will fly to her relief,

But we have time enough.-Where is my rival?
Appear, Statira, now no more a queen;
Roxana calls; where is your majesty?

Stat. And what is she, who with such towering pride,

Would awe a princess, that is born above her ?
Ror. I like the port imperial beauty bears,
It shews thou hast a spirit fit to fall
A sacrifice to fierce Roxana's wrongs.
Be sudden then, put forth the royal breasts,
Where our false master has so often languished,
That I may change their milky innocence
To blood, and dye me in a deep revenge.

Stat. No, barbarous woman, though I durst meet death

As boldly as our lord, with a resolve,

At which thy coward heart would tremble;
Yet I disdain to stand the fate you offer,
And therefore, fearless of thy dreadful threats,
Walk thus regardless by thee.
Ror. Ha! so stately!
This sure will sink you.

Stat. No, Roxana, no :

The blow you give will strike me to the stars,
But sink my murderess in eternal ruin.
Ror. Who told you this?

Stat. A thousand spirits tell me :
There's not a god but whispers in my ear,
This death will crown me with immortal glory;
To die so fair, so innocent, so young,
Will make me company for queens above.
Ror. Preach on,

Stat. While you, the burden of the earth,
Fall to the deep, so heavy with thy guilt,
That hell itself must groan at thy reception;
While foulest fiends shun thy society,
And thou shalt walk alone, forsaken fury!

Ror. Heaven witness for me, I would spare
thy life,

If any thing but Alexander's love

Were in debate; come, give me back his heart, And thou shalt live empress of all the world.

Stat. The world is less than Alexander's love, Yet could I give it, 'tis not in my power. This I dare promise, if you spare my life, Which I disdain to beg, he shall speak kindly. Ror. Speak! is that all?

Stat. Perhaps, at my request, And for a gift so noble as my life, Bestow a kiss.

Ror. A kiss! no more?

Stat. O gods!

What shall I say to work her to my end?
Fain I would see him-Yes, a little more-
Embrace you, and for ever be your friend.
Ror. O the provoking word! Your friend!

thou diest:

Your friend! What, must I bring you then together?

By all my pangs, and labours of my love,
This has thrown off all that was sweet and gentle,
Therefore

Stat. Yet hold thy hand advanced in air!
I see my death is written in thy eyes;
Therefore wreak all the lust of vengeance on me,
Wash in my blood, and steep thee in my gore,
Feed like a vulture, tear my bleeding heart;
But, O Roxana! that there may appear
A glimpse of justice for thy cruelty,
A grain of goodness for a mass of evil,
Give me my death in Alexander's presence!
Ror. Not for the rule of heaven-Are you so
cunning?

What, you would have him mourn you as you fall,

Take your farewell, and taste such healing kisses, As might call back your soul? No, thou shalt fall.

Now, and when death has seized thy beauteous limbs,

I'll have thy body thrown into a well,
Buried beneath a heap of stones for ever.

Stat. My cruel love, my weeping Alexander,
Would I had died before you entered here!
For now I ask my heart an hundred questions;
What! must I lose my life, my lord, for ever?
Alex. Ha! villains, are they mortal?-what,
retire!

Raise your dashed spirits from the earth, and say,
Say she shall live, and I will make you kings.
Give me this one, this poor, this only life,
And I will pardon you for all the wounds,
Which your arts widen, all diseases, deaths,

Which your damned drugs throw through the lingering world.

Ror. Rend not your temper; see a general silence

Confirms the bloody pleasure, which. I sought; She dies.

Aler. And darest thou, monster, think to escape?

Stat. Life's on the wing,-my love, my lord, Come to my arms, and take the last adieu! He let me lie, and languish out my soul.

Alex. Answer me, father, wilt thou take her from me?

What, is the black, sad hour at last arrived,
That I must never clasp her body more?
Never more bask in her eye-shine again,
Nor view the loves, that played in those dear
beams,

And shot me with a thousand thousand smiles? Stat. Farewel, my dear, my life, my most loved lord!

I swear by Orosmades 'tis more pleasure,
More satisfaction that I thus die yours,
Than to have lived another's-Grant me one
thing.

Alex. All, all, but speak, that I may execute Before I follow thee..

Stat. Leave not the earth

Before Heaven calls you; spare Roxana's life; 'Twas love of you, that caused her give me death. And, O! sometimes, amidst your revels, think Of your poor queen, and ere the chearful bowl Salute your lips, crown it with one rich tear, And I am happy.

[Dies.

Alex. Close not thy eyes!
Things of import I have to speak before
Thou tak'st thy journey :-Tell the gods I'm
coming,

To give them an account of life and death,
And many other hundred thousand policies,
That much concern the government of heaven-
O she is gone! the talking soul is mute!
She's hushed, no voice of music now is heard!
The bower of beauty is more still than death;
The roses fade, and the melodious bird,

That waked their sweets, has left them now for

Alex. O thou hast touched my soul so tenderly, That I will raise thee, though thy hands are ruin. Rise, cruel woman, rise, and have a care, O do not hurt that unborn innocence, For whose dear sake I now forgive thee all. But haste, begone! fly, fly from these sad eyes, Fly with thy pardon, lest I call it back; Though I forgive thee, I must hate thee ever.

Ror. I go, I fly for ever from thy sight. My mortal injuries have turned my mind, And I could curse myself for being kind. If there be any majesty above, That has revenge in store for perjured love, Send, Heaven, the swiftest ruin on his head; Strike the destroyer, lay the victor dead; Kill the triumpher, and avenge my wrong, In height of pomp, while he is warm and

Unhappy youth!-But he sleeps happy,
I must wake for ever:This object, this,
This face of fatal beauty,

Will stretch my lids with vast, eternal tears-
Who had the care of poor Hephestion's life?
Lys. Philarda, the Arabian artist.

Aler. Fly, Meleager, hang him on a cross!
That for Hephestion.

But here lies my fate; Hephestion, Clytus,
All my victories for ever folded up:
In this dear body my banner's lost,
My standard's triumph's gone!

O when shall I be mad? Give order to

The army, that they break their shields, swords,

spears,

Pound their bright armour into dust; away!
Is there not cause to put the world in mourning?
Tear all your robes:-he dies, that is not naked
Down to the waste, all like the sons of sorrow.
Burn all the spires, that seem to kiss the sky;
Beat down the battlements of every city;
And for the monument of this loved creature,
Root up those bowers, and pave them all with
gold:

Draw dry the Ganges, make the Indies poor;
To build her tomb, no shrines nor altars spare,
But strip the shining gods to make it rare. [Ex.
Cass. Ha! whither now? follow him, Polyper-
chon.
[Exit PoL.
I find Cassander's plot grows full of death;
Murder is playing her great master-piece,
And the sad sisters sweat, so fast I urge them.
O how I hug myself for this revenge!
My fancy's great in mischief; for methinks
The night grows darker, and the labouring ghosts,
For fear that I should find new torments out,
Run o'er the old with most prodigious swiftness.
I see the fatal fruit betwixt the teeth,
The sieve brim-full, and the swift stone stand still.

A bolt of ice runs hissing through my bowels:
'Tis sure the arm of death: give me a chair;
Cover me, for I freeze, and my teeth chatter,
And my knees knock together.

Perd. Heaven bless the king!
Alex. Ha! who talks of heaven?

I am all hell; I burn, I burn again!
The war grows wondrous hot; hey for the Tigris
Bear me, Bucephalus, amongst the billows:
O'tis a noble beast; I would not change him
For the best horse the Sun has in his stable:
For they are hot, their mangers full of coals,
Their manes are flakes of lightning, curls of fire,
And their red tails, like meteors, whisk about.
Lys. Help all, Eumenes, help! I cannot hold
him!

Alex. Ha, ha, ha! I shall die with laughter. Parmenio, Clytus, dost thou see yon fellow, That ragged soldier, that poor tattered Greek? See how he puts to flight the gaudy Persians, With nothing but a rusty helmet on, throu which

The grizzly bristles of his pushing beard