FOOTNOTES:
[762] 'Which, fluttering by twilight, seemeth a swan, should'?
[763] Ovid, Meta. III. 631.
[764] Holland, XXX. 2.
[765] Henry Cornelius Agrippa (von Nettesheim), knight, doctor, and, by common reputation, magician. Died 1535. On request he raised spirits—of the dead, Tully delivering his oration on Roscius; of the living, Henry VIII. and his lords hunting.—Godwin, Lives of Necromancers, 1834, 324-25.
[766] Lynxes. "It is thought that of all beastes they seeme most brightly, for the poets faine that their eie-sight pierceth through every solid body, although it be as thicke as a wall.... Although they be long afflicted with hunger, yet when they eate their meate, if they heare any noise, or any other chaunce cause them to turne aboute from their meate, oute of the sight of it, they forgette their prey, notwithstanding their hunger, and go to seeke another booty."—Topsell, 489-492.
[Alexander and Campaspe]
Actus primus. Scæna prima[767]
Enter Clitus and Parmenio[768]
LYTUS. Parmenio, I cannot tell whether I should more commend in Alexanders victories courage, or courtesie, in the one being a resolution without feare, in the other a liberalitie above custome. Thebes is razed, the people not racked; towers throwne downe, bodies not thrust aside; a conquest 5 without conflict, and a cruell warre in a milde peace.[769]
Par. Clytus, it becommeth the sonne of Philip to bee none other than Alexander is; therefore, seeing in the father a full perfection, who could have doubted in the sonne an excellency? For, as the moone can borrow nothing else of the sunne but light,[770] so of a sire 10 in whom nothing but vertue was what could the childe receive but singular?[771] It is for turkies to staine each other, not for diamonds; in the one to bee made a difference in goodnesse, in the other no comparison.[772]
Clytus. You mistake mee, Parmenio, if, whilest I commend Alexander, 15 you imagine I call Philip into question; unlesse, happily, you conjecture (which none of judgement will conceive) that because I like the fruit, therefore I heave at the tree, or, coveting to kisse the childe, I therefore goe about to poyson the teat.
Par. I, but, Clytus, I perceive you are borne in the east, and 20 never laugh but at the sunne rising;[773] which argueth, though a dutie where you ought, yet no great devotion where you might.
Clytus. We will make no controversie of that [of][774] which there ought to be no question; onely this shall be the opinion of us both, that none was worthy to be the father of Alexander but Philip, nor 25 any meete to be the sonne of Philip but Alexander.
[Enter Soldiers with Timoclea, Campaspe, other captives, and spoils.]
Par. Soft, Clytus, behold the spoiles and prisoners! A pleasant sight to us, because profit is joyned with honour; not much painfull to them, because their captivitie is eased by mercie.
Timo. [aside]. Fortune, thou didst never yet deceive vertue, 30 because vertue never yet did trust fortune! Sword and fire will never get spoyle where wisdome and fortitude beares sway. O Thebes, thy wals were raised by the sweetnesse of the harpe,[775] but rased by the shrilnes of the trumpet! Alexander had never come so neer the wals, had Epaminondas walkt about the wals; and yet 35 might the Thebanes have beene merry in their streets, if hee had beene to watch their towers. But destinie is seldome forseene, never prevented. We are here now captives, whose neckes are voaked by force, but whose hearts cannot yeeld by death.—Come Campaspe and the rest, let us not be ashamed to cast our eyes on 40 him on whom we feared not to cast our darts.
Par. Madame, you need not doubt;[776] it is Alexander that is the conquerour.
Timo. Alexander hath overcome, not conquered.
Par. To bring all under his subjection is to conquer. 45
Timo. He cannot subdue that which is divine.
Par. Thebes was not.
Timo. Vertue is.
Clytus. Alexander, as hee tendreth[777] vertue, so hee will you. Hee drinketh not bloud, but thirsteth after honour; hee is greedie of 50 victorie, but never satisfied with mercie; in fight terrible, as becommeth a captaine; in conquest milde, as beseemeth a king; in all things[778] than which nothing can be greater, hee is Alexander.
Camp. Then, if it be such a thing to be Alexander, I hope it shall be no miserable thing to be a virgin. For, if hee save our 55 honours, it is more than to restore our goods; and rather doe I wish he preserve our fame than our lives: which if he doe, we will confesse there can be no greater thing than to be Alexander.
[Enter Alexander and Hephestion.[779]]
Alex. Clytus, are these prisoners? Of whence these spoiles?
Clytus. Like your Majestie,[780] they are prisoners, and of Thebes. 60
Alex. Of what calling or reputation?
Clytus. I know not, but they seeme to be ladies of honour.
Alex. I will know. Madam, of whence you are I know, but who, I cannot tell.
Timo. Alexander, I am the sister of Theagines, who fought a 65 battell with thy father, before the citie of Chieronie,[781] where he died, I say—which none can gainsay—valiantly.[782]
Alex. Lady, there seeme in your words sparkes of your brothers deedes, but worser fortune in your life than his death; but feare not, for you shall live without violence, enemies, or necessitie. But 70 what are you, faire ladie, another sister to Theagines?
Camp. No sister to Theagines, but an humble hand-maid to Alexander, born of a meane parentage, but to extreme[783] fortune.
Alex. Well, ladies, for so your vertues shew you, whatsoever your births be, you shall be honorably entreated. Athens shall be 75 your Thebes; and you shall not be as abjects of warre, but as subjects to Alexander. Parmenio, conduct these honourable ladies into the citie; charge the souldiers not so much as in words to offer them any offence; and let all wants bee supplied so farre forth as shall be necessarie for such persons and my prisoners. 80
Exeunt Parme.[NIO] & captivi.
Hephestion,[784] it resteth now that wee have as great care to governe in peace as conquer in warre, that, whilest armes cease, arts may flourish, and, joyning letters with launces, wee endevour to bee as good philosophers as souldiers, knowing it no lesse prayse to bee wise than commendable to be valiant. 85
Hep. Your Majestie therein sheweth that you have as great desire to rule as to subdue: and needs must that commonwealth be fortunate whose captaine is a philosopher, and whose philosopher a captaine.
Exeunt.
Actus primus. Scæna secunda[785]
[Enter] Manes,[786] Granichus, Psyllus
Manes. I serve in stead of a master a mouse,[787] whose house is a tub, whose dinner is a crust, and whose bed is a boord.
Psyllus. Then art thou in a state of life which philosophers commend: a crum for thy supper, an hand for thy cup, and thy clothes for thy sheets; for Natura paucis contenta. 5
Gran. Manes, it is pitie so proper a man should be cast away upon a philosopher; but that Diogenes, that dogge,[788] should have Manes, that dog-bolt,[789] it grieveth nature and spiteth art: the one having found thee so dissolute—absolute[790] I would say—in bodie, the other so single—singular—in minde. 10
Manes. Are you merry? It is a signe by the trip of your tongue and the toyes[791] of your head that you have done that to day which I have not done these three dayes.
Psyllus. Whats that?
Manes. Dined. 15
Gran. I thinke Diogenes keepes but cold cheare.
Manes. I would it were so; but hee keepeth neither hot nor cold.
Gran. What then, luke warme? That made Manes runne from his master the last day.[792] 20
Psyllus. Manes had reason, for his name foretold as much.
Manes. My name? How so, sir boy?
Psyllus. You know that it is called mons a movendo, because it stands still.
Manes. Good. 25
Psyllus. And thou art named Manes a manendo, because thou runnest away.
Manes. Passing[793] reasons! I did not run away, but retire.
Psyllus. To a prison, because thou wouldst have leisure to contemplate. 30
Manes. I will prove that my bodie was immortall because it was in prison.
Gran. As how?
Manes. Did your masters never teach you that the soule is immortall? 35
Gran. Yes.
Manes. And the bodie is the prison of the soule.
Gran. True.
Manes. Why then, thus[794] to make my body immortall, I put it in prison.[795] 40
Gran. Oh, bad!
Manes. You may see how dull a fasting wit is: therefore, Psyllus, let us goe to supper with Granichus. Plato is the best fellow of all philosophers: give me him that reades[796] in the morning in the 45 schoole, and at noone in the kitchen.
Psyllus. And me!
Gran. Ah, sirs, my master is a king in his parlour for the body, and a god in his studie for the soule. Among all his men he commendeth one that is an excellent musition; then stand I by and clap 50 another on the shoulder and say, "This is a passing good cooke."
Manes. It is well done Granichus; for give mee pleasure that goes in at the mouth, not the eare,—I had rather fill my guts than my braines.
Psyllus. I serve Apelles, who feedeth mee as Diogenes doth 55 Manes; for at dinner the one preacheth abstinence, the other commendeth counterfaiting[797]: when I would eate meate, he paints a[798] spit; and when I thirst, "O," saith he, "is not this a faire pot?" and pointes to a table[799] which containes the Banquet of the Gods, where are many dishes to feed the eye, but not to fill the gut. 60
Gran. What doest thou then?
Psyllus. This doth hee then: bring in many examples that some have lived by savours; and proveth that much easier it is to fat by colours; and telles of birdes that have been fatted by painted grapes in winter, and how many have so fed their eyes with their mistresse 65 picture that they never desired to take food, being glutted with the delight in their favours.[800] Then doth he shew me counterfeites,—such as have surfeited, with their filthy and lothsome vomites; and the riotous[801] Bacchanalls of the god Bacchus and his disorderly crew; which are painted all to the life in his shop. To 70 conclude, I fare hardly, though I goe richly, which maketh me when I should begin to shadow a ladies face, to draw a lambs head, and sometime to set to the body of a maid a shoulder of mutton, for Semper animus meus est in patinis.[802]
Manes. Thou art a god to mee; for, could I see but a cookes 75 shop painted, I would make mine eyes fatte as butter, for I have nought but sentences to fill my maw: as, Plures occidit crapula quam gladius; Musa jejunantibus amica; Repletion killeth delicatly; and an old saw of abstinence by[803] Socrates,—The belly is the heads grave. Thus with sayings, not with meate, he maketh a gallimafray.[804] 80
Gran. But how doest thou then live?
Manes. With fine jests, sweet ayre, and the dogs[805] almes.
Gran. Well, for this time I will stanch thy gut, and among pots and platters thou shall see what it is to serve Plato.
Psyllus. For joy of it, Granichus, lets sing. 85
Manes. My voice is as cleare in the evening as in the morning.[806]
Gran. An other commoditie of emptines!
Song[807]
Gran. O for a bowle of fatt canary,
Rich Palermo, sparkling sherry,
Some nectar else[808] from Juno's daiery:90
O these draughts would make us merry!
Psil. O for a wench! (I deale in faces,
And in other dayntier things,)
Tickled am I with her embraces,—
Fine dancing in such fairy ringes.95
Ma. O for a plump fat leg of mutton,
Veale, lambe, capon, pigge, and conney![809]
None is happy but a glutton;
None an asse but who wants money.
Ch. Wines, indeed, and girls are good, 100
But brave victuals feast the bloud:
For wenches, wine, and lusty cheere,
Jove would leape down to surfet heere.
[Exeunt.]
Actus primus. Scæna tertia[810]
[Enter] Melippus[811]
Melip. I had never such adoe to warne schollers to come before a king! First I came to Crisippus, a tall, leane old mad man, willing him presently to appeare before Alexander. Hee stood staring on my face, neither moving his eyes nor his body. I urging him to give some answer, hee tooke up a booke, sate downe, and 5 saide nothing. Melissa, his maide, told mee it was his manner, and that oftentimes shee was fain to thrust meat into his mouth, for that he would rather sterve than cease studie. Well, thought I, seeing bookish men are so blockish and great clearkes such simple courtiers, I will neither be partaker of their commons nor their commendations. 10 From thence I came to Plato and to Aristotle[812] and to divers other; none refusing to come, saving an olde, obscure fellow, who, sitting in a tub turned towardes the sunne, read Greeke to a young boy. Him when I willed to appeare before Alexander, he answered, "If Alexander would faine see mee, let him come to mee; if learne 15 of me, let him come to mee; whatsoever it be, let him come to me." "Why," said I, "he is a king." He answered, "Why, I am a philosopher." "Why, but he is Alexander." "I, but I am Diogenes." I was halfe angry to see one so crooked in his shape to bee so crabbed in his sayings; so, going my way, 20 I said, "Thou shalt repent it, if thou comest not to Alexander." "Nay," smiling answered hee, "Alexander may repent it if hee come not to Diogenes: vertue must bee sought, not offered." And so, turning himselfe to his cell, hee grunted I know not what, like a pig under a tub. But I must bee gone, the philosophers are 25 comming.
Exit.
[Enter Plato, Aristotle, Crysippus, Crates, Cleanthes, and Anaxarchus[813]]
Plato. It is a difficult controversie, Aristotle, and rather to be wondred at than beleeved, how natural causes should worke supernaturall effects.
Aris. I do not so much stand upon the apparition is seene in the 30 moone,[814] neither the Demonium of Socrates, as that I cannot by naturall reason give any reason of the ebbing and flowing of the sea; which makes me in the depth of my studies to crie out, O ens entium, miserere mei.
Plato. Cleanthes and you attribute so much to nature by searching 35 for things which are not to be found, that, whilest you studie a cause of your owne,[815] you omitt the occasion it selfe. There is no man so savage in whom resteth not this divine particle: that there is an omnipotent, eternall, and divine mover, which may be called God.
Cleant. I am of this minde: that that first mover, which you 40 terme God, is the instrument of all the movings which we attribute to nature.[816] The earth, which is masse, swimmeth[817] on the sea, seasons divided in themselves, fruits growing in themselves, the majestie of the skie, the whole firmament of the world, and whatsoever else appeareth miraculous,—what man almost of meane 45 capacitie but can prove it natural?
Anax. These causes shall be debated at our philosophers feast, in which controversie I will take part with Aristotle that there is Natura naturans,[818] and yet not God.
Cra. And I with Plato that there is Deus optimus maximus, and 50 not nature.
[Enter Alexander, attended by Hephestion, Parmenio, and Clytus]
Aris. Here commeth Alexander.
Alex. I see, Hephestion, that these philosophers are here attending for us.
Hep. They are not philosophers if they know[819] not their duties. 55
Alex. But I much mervaile Diogenes should bee so dogged.
Hep. I doe not thinke but his excuse will be better than Melippus message.
Alex. I will goe see him, Hephestion, because I long to see him that would command Alexander to come, to whom all the world is 60 like to come.—Aristotle and the rest, sithence my comming from Thebes to Athens, from a place of conquest to a pallace of[820] quiet, I have resolved with my selfe in my court to have as many philosophers as I had in my camp souldiers. My court shal be a schoole wherein I wil have used as great doctrine[821] in peace as I did in 65 warre discipline.
Aris. We are all here ready to be commanded, and glad we are that we are commanded, for that nothing better becommeth kings than literature, which maketh them come as neare to the gods in wisdome as they doe in dignitie. 70
Alex. It is so, Aristotle, but yet there is among you, yea and of your bringing up, that sought to destroy Alexander,—Calistenes,[822] Aristotle, whose treasons against his prince shall not be borne out with the reasons of his philosophie.
Aris. If ever mischief entred into the heart of Calistenes, let 75 Calistenes suffer for it; but that Aristotle ever imagined any such thing of Calistenes, Aristotle doth denie.
Alex. Well, Aristotle, kindred may blinde thee, and affection me; but in kings causes I will not stand to schollers arguments. This meeting shal be for a commandement that you all frequent my 80 court, instruct the young with rules,[823] confirme the olde with reasons: let your lives bee answerable to your learnings, least my proceedings be contrary to my promises.
Hep. You said you would aske every one of them a question which yesternight none of us could answere.[824] 85
Alex. I will. Plato, of all beasts which is the subtilest?
Plato. That which man hitherto never knew.
Alex. Aristotle, how should a man be thought a god?
Aris. In doing a thing unpossible for a man.
Alex. Crisippus, which was first, the day or the night? 90
Aris. The day, by a day.
Alex. Indeede, strange questions must have strange answers. Cleanthes, what say you, is life or death the stronger?
Cle. Life, that suffereth so many troubles.
Alex. Crates, how long should a man live? 95
Crates. Till hee thinke it better to die than to live.
Alex. Anaxarchus, whether doth the sea or the earth bring forth most creatures?
Anax. The earth, for the sea is but a part of the earth.
Alex. Hephestion, me thinkes they have answered all well, and 100 in such questions I meane often to trie them.
Hep. It is better to have in your court a wise man than in your ground a golden mine. Therefore would I leave war, to study wisdom, were I Alexander.
Alex. So would I, were I Hephestion.[825] But come, let us goe 105 and give release, as I promised, to our Theban thralls.[826]
Exeunt [Alexander, Hephestion, Parmenio, and Clytus.]
Plato. Thou art fortunate, Aristotle, that Alexander is thy scholler.
Aris. And all you happy that he is your soveraigne.
Crisip. I could like the man well, if he could be contented to 110 bee but a man.
Aris. He seeketh to draw neere to the gods in knowledge, not to be a god.
[Enter Diogenes.[827]]
Plato. Let us question a little with Diogenes why he went not with us to Alexander. Diogenes, thou didst forget thy duety, that 115 thou wentst not with us to the king.
Diog. And you your profession that went to the king.
Plato. Thou takest as great pride to be peevish as others do glory to be vertuous.
Diog. And thou as great honour, being a philosopher, to be 120 thought court-like, as others shame, that be courtiers, to be accounted philosophers.
Aris. These austere manners set aside, it is well knowne that thou didst counterfeite money.[828]
Diog. And thou thy manners, in that thou didst not counterfeite 125 money.[829]
Aris. Thou hast reason to contemne the court, being both in bodie and minde too crooked for a courtier.
Diog. As good be crooked and indevour to make my selfe straight, from the court, as bee straight and learne to be crooked at the court. 130
Cris. Thou thinkest it a grace to be opposite against Alexander.
Diog. And thou to be jump with Alexander.
Anax. Let us goe, for in contemning him we shal better please him than in wondering at him.
Aris. Plato, what doest thou thinke of Diogenes? 135
Plato. To be Socrates furious.[830] Let us go.
Exeunt Philosophi.
[Diogenes moves about with a lantern as if seeking something.]
[Enter] Psyllus, Manes, [and] Granichus.[831]
Psyllus. Behold, Manes, where thy master is, seeking either for bones for his dinner or pinnes for his sleeves. I will goe salute him.
Manes. Doe so; but mum, not a word that you saw Manes! 140
Gran. Then stay thou behinde, and I will goe with Psyllus.
[Manes stands apart.]
Psyllus. All hayle, Diogenes, to your proper person.
Diog. All hate to thy peevish conditions.
Gran. O dogge!
Psyllus. What doest thou seeke for here? 145
Diog. For a man and a beast.
Gran. That is easie without thy light to bee found: be not all these men?[832]
Diog. Called men.
Gran. What beast is it thou lookest for? 150
Diog. The beast my man Manes.
Psyllus. Hee is a beast indeed that will serve thee.
Diog. So is he that begat thee.
Gran. What wouldest thou do, if thou shouldst find Manes?
Diog. Give him leave to doe as hee hath done before. 155
Gran. What's that?
Diog. To run away.
Psyllus. Why, hast thou no neede of Manes?
Diog. It were a shame for Diogenes to have neede of Manes and for Manes to have no neede of Diogenes.[833] 160
Gran. But put the case he were gone, wouldst thou entertaine any of us two?
Diog. Upon condition.
Psyllus. What?
Diog. That you should tell me wherefore any of you both were 165 good.
Gran. Why, I am a scholler and well seene in philosophy.
Psyllus. And I a prentice and well seene in painting.
Diog. Well then, Granichus, be thou a painter to amend thine ill face; and thou, Psyllus, a philosopher to correct thine evill 170 manners. But who is that? Manes?
Manes [coming forward slowly]. I care not who I were, so I were not Manes.
Gran. You are taken tardie.
Psyllus. Let us slip aside, Granichus, to see the salutation betweene 175 Manes and his master.
[They draw back.]
Diog. Manes, thou knowest the last day[834] I threw away my dish, to drinke in my hand, because it was superfluous;[835] now I am determined to put away my man and serve my selfe, quia non egeo tui vel te. 180
Manes. Master, you know a while agoe I ran away; so doe I meane to doe againe, quia scio tibi non esse argentum.
Diog. I know I have no money, neither will I[836] have ever a man, for I was resolved long sithence to put away both my slaves,—money and Manes. 185
Manes. So was I determined to shake off[837] both my dogges,—hunger and Diogenes.
Psyllus. O sweet consent[838] betweene a crowde[839] and a Jewes harpe!
Gran. Come, let us reconcile them.
Psyllus. It shall not neede, for this is their use: now doe they 190 dine one upon another.
Exit Diogenes.
Gran. [coming forward with Psyllus]. How now, Manes, art thou gone from thy master?
Manes. No, I did but now binde my selfe to him.
Psyllus. Why, you were at mortall jarres! 195
Manes. In faith, no; we brake a bitter jest one upon another.
Gran. Why, thou art as dogged as he.
Psyllus. My father knew them both little whelps.
Manes. Well, I will hie me after my master.
Gran. Why, is it supper time with Diogenes? 200
Manes. I, with him at all time when he hath meate.
Psyllus. Why then, every man to his home; and let us steale out againe anone.
Gran. Where shall we meete?
Psyllus. Why at Alae[840] vendibili suspensa hædera non est opus. 205
Manes. O Psyllus, habeo te loco parentis; thou blessest me.
Exeunt.
Actus secundus.[841] Scæna prima.[842]
Alexander, Hephestion, [and] Page.[843]
Alex. Stand aside, sir boy, till you be called. [The Page stands aside.] Hephestion, how doe you like the sweet face of Campaspe?
Hep. I cannot but commende the stout courage of Timoclea.
Alex. Without doubt Campaspe had some great man to her father. 5
Hep. You know Timoclea had Theagines to her brother.
Alex. Timoclea still in thy mouth! Art thou not in love?
Hep. Not I.
Alex. Not with Timoclea, you meane. Wherein you resemble the lapwing, who crieth most where her nest is not.[844] And so 10 you lead me from espying your love with Campaspe,—you crie Timoclea.
Hep. Could I as well subdue kingdomes as I can my thoughts, or were I as farre from ambition as I am from love, all the world would account mee as valiant in armes as I know my selfe moderate 15 in affection.
Alex. Is love a vice?
Hep. It is no vertue.
Alex. Well, now shalt thou see what small difference I make between Alexander and Hephestion. And, sith thou hast been 20 alwaies partaker of my triumphes, thou shalt bee partaker of my torments. I love, Hephestion, I love! I love Campaspe,—a thing farre unfit for a Macedonian, for a king, for Alexander. Why hangest thou downe thy head, Hephestion, blushing to heare that which I am not ashamed to tell? 25
Hep. Might my words crave pardon and my counsell credit, I would both discharge the duetie of a subject, for so I am, and the office of a friend, for so I will.
Alex. Speake Hephestion; for, whatsoever is spoken, Hephestion speaketh to Alexander. 30
Hep. I cannot tell, Alexander, whether the report be more shamefull to be heard or the cause sorrowful to be beleeved? What, is the son of Philip, king of Macedon, become the subject of Campaspe, the captive of Thebes? Is that minde whose greatnes the world could not containe drawn within the compasse of an idle, 35 alluring eie? Wil you handle the spindle with Hercules[845] when you should shake the speare with Achilles? Is the warlike sound of drum and trump turned to the soft noise of lyre and lute, the neighing of barbed[846] steeds, whose lowdnes filled the aire with terrour and whose breathes dimmed the sun with smoake, converted to 40 delicate tunes and amorous glances?[847] O Alexander, that soft and yeelding minde should not bee in him whose hard and unconquerd heart hath made so many yeeld. But you love! Ah griefe! But whom? Campaspe. Ah shame! A maide, forsooth, unknowne, unnoble,—and who can tell whether immodest?—whose eyes are 45 framed by art to enamour, and whose heart was made by nature to enchant. I, but shee is beautifull. Yea, but not therefore chaste. I, but she is comely in all parts of the bodie. But shee may bee crooked in some part of the minde. I, but shee is wise. Yea, but she is a woman. Beautie is like the blackberry, which seemeth 50 red when it is not ripe,—resembling precious stones that are polished with honie,[848] which the smoother they looke, the sooner they breake. It is thought wonderfull among the sea-men, that mugill,[849] of all fishes the swiftest, is found in the belly of the bret,[850] of all the slowest: and shall it not seeme monstrous to wise men that the 55 heart of the greatest conquerour of the world should be found in the hands of the weakest creature of nature,—of a woman, of a captive? Hermyns have faire skins, but foule livers; sepulchres fresh colours, but rotten bones; women faire faces, but false hearts. Remember, Alexander, thou hast a campe to governe, not a chamber. Fall not 60 from the armour of Mars to the armes of Venus, from the fierie assaults of warre to the maidenly skirmishes of love, from displaying the eagle in thine ensigne to set downe the sparrow. I sigh, Alexander, that, where fortune could not conquer, folly should overcome. But behold all the perfection that may bee in Campaspe: 65 a haire curling by nature, not art; sweete alluring eyes; a faire face made in despite of Venus; and a stately port in disdaine of Juno; a wit apt to conceive and quicke to answere; a skinne as soft as silke and as smooth as jet; a long white hand; a fine little foot,—to conclude, all parts answerable to the best part. What of this? 70 Though she have heavenly gifts, vertue and beautie, is shee not of earthly metall, flesh and bloud? You, Alexander, that would be a god, shew your selfe in this worse than a man, so soone to be both overseene and over-taken[851] in a woman, whose false teares know their true times, whose smooth words wound deeper than sharpe swords. 75 There is no surfet so dangerous as that of honie, nor any poyson so deadly as that of love: in the one physicke cannot prevaile, nor in the other counsell.
Alex. My case were light, Hephestion, and not worthy to be called love, if reason were a remedie, or sentences could salve that 80 sense cannot conceive. Little do you know and therefore sleightly doe you regard the dead embers in a private person or live coales in a great prince, whose passions and thoughts doe as farre exceed others in extremitie as their callings doe in majestie. An eclipse in the sunne is more than the falling of a starre: none can conceive 85 the torments of a king, unlesse he be a king, whose desires are not inferiour to their dignities. And then judge, Hephestion, if the agonies of love be dangerous in a subject, whether they be not more than deadly unto Alexander, whose deepe and not to bee conceived sighes cleave the heart in shivers, whose wounded thoughts can 90 neither be expressed nor endured. Cease then, Hephestion, with arguments to seeke to refell[852] that which with their deitie the gods cannot resist; and let this suffice to answere thee,—that it is a king that loveth, and Alexander, whose affections are not to bee measured by reason, being immortall, nor, I feare me, to be borne, being 95 intolerable.
Hep. I must needs yeeld, when neither reason nor counsell can bee heard.
Alex. Yeeld, Hephestion, for Alexander doth love, and therefore must obtaine. 100
Hep. Suppose shee loves not you? Affection commeth not by appointment or birth; and then as good hated as enforced.
Alex. I am a king, and will command.
Hep. You may, to yeeld to lust by force, but to consent to love by feare, you cannot. 105
Alex. Why? What is that which Alexander may not conquer as he list?
Hep. Why, that which you say the gods cannot resist,—love.
Alex. I am a conquerour, shee a captive; I as fortunate as shee 110 faire: my greatnesse may answere her wants, and the gifts of my minde the modestie of hers. Is it not likely, then, that she should love? Is it not reasonable?
Hep. You say that in love there is no reason; and, therefore, there can be no likelyhood. 115
Alex. No more, Hephestion! In this case I will use mine own counsell, and in all other thine advice: thou mayst be a good souldier, but never good lover. Call my page. [The Page comes forward.] Sirrah, goe presently to Apelles and will him to come to me without either delay or excuse. 120
Page. I goe.
[Exit.]
Alex. In the meane season, to recreate my spirits, being so neere, wee will goe see Diogenes. And see where his tub is.[853] [Crosses stage.] Diogenes!
Diog. Who calleth? 125
Alex. Alexander. How happened it that you would not come out of your tub to my palace?[854]
Diog. Because it was as farre from my tub to your palace as from your palace to my tub.
Alex. Why then, doest thou owe no reverence to kings? 130
Diog. No.
Alex. Why so?
Diog. Because they be no gods.
Alex. They be gods of the earth.
Diog. Yea, gods of earth. 135
Alex. Plato is not of thy minde.
Diog. I am glad of it.
Alex. Why?
Diog. Because I would have none of Diogenes minde but Diogenes. 140
Alex. If Alexander have any thing that may pleasure Diogenes, let me know, and take it.
Diog. Then take not from mee that you cannot give mee,—the light of the world.
Alex. What doest thou want? 145
Diog. Nothing that you have.
Alex. I have the world at command.
Diog. And I in contempt.
Alex. Thou shalt live no longer than I will.
Diog. But I shall die whether you will or no. 150
Alex. How should one learne to bee content?
Diog. Unlearne to covet.
Alex. Hephestion, were I not Alexander, I would wish to bee Diogenes!
Hep. He is dogged, but discreet; I cannot tell how sharpe, 155 with a kind of sweetnes; full of wit, yet too-too wayward.
Alex. Diogenes, when I come this way againe, I will both see thee and confer with thee.
Diog. Doe.[855]
[Enter Apelles.]
Alex. But here commeth Apelles. How now, Apelles, is Venus 160 face yet finished?
Apel. Not yet; beautie is not so soone shadowed whose perfection commeth not within the compasse either of cunning or of colour.
Alex. Well, let it rest unperfect; and come you with mee where 165 I will shew you that finished by nature that you have beene trifling about by art.
[Exeunt Alexander, Hephestion, and Apelles.
Actus tertius. Scæna prima.[856]
[Enter] Apelles, Campaspe [and a little behind them, Psyllus.]
Apel. Ladie, I doubt whether there bee any colour so fresh that may shadow a countenance so faire.
Camp. Sir, I had thought you had bin commanded to paint with your hand, not to glose[857] with your tongue; but as I have heard, it is the hardest thing in painting to set downe a hard favour,[858] which 5 maketh you to despaire of my face; and then[859] shall you have as great thankes to spare your labour as to discredit your art.
Apel. Mistris, you neither differ from your selfe nor your sexe; for, knowing your owne perfection, you seeme to disprayse that which men most commend, drawing them by that meane into an admiration 10 where, feeding themselves, they fall into an extasie; your modestie being the cause of the one, and of the other your affections.
Camp. I am too young to understand your speech, though old enough to withstand your devise. You have bin so long used to colours you can doe nothing but colour.[860] 15
Apel Indeed the colours I see, I feare will alter the colour I have.[861] But come, madam, will you draw neere?—for Alexander will be here anon. Psyllus, stay you here at the window. If any enquire for mee, answere, Non lubet esse domi.
Exeunt [Apelles and Campaspe.[862]]
Psyllus. It is alwayes my masters fashion when any faire gentle-woman 20 is to be drawne within to make me to stay without. But if hee should paint Jupiter like a bull, like a swanne, like an eagle, then must Psyllus with one hand grind colours and with the other hold the candle. But let him alone! The better hee shadowes her face, the more will he burne his owne heart. And now if any 25 man could meet with Manes, who, I dare say, lookes as leane as if Diogenes dropped out of his nose.[863]
[Enter Manes.]
Manes. And here comes Manes, who hath as much meate in his maw as thou hast honestie in thy head.
Psyllus. Then I hope thou art very hungry. 30
Manes. They that know thee know that.
Psyllus. But doest thou not remember that wee have certaine liquor to conferre withall.
Manes. I, but I have businesse; I must goe cry a thing.
Psyllus. Why, what hast thou lost? 35
Manes. That which I never had,—my dinner!
Psyllus. Foule lubber, wilt thou crie for thy dinner?
Manes. I meane I must crie,—not as one would say "crie," but "crie,"[864] that is, make a noyse.
Psyllus. Why foole, that is all one; for, if thou crie, thou must 40 needs make a noyse.
Manes. Boy, thou art deceived: crie hath divers significations, and may be alluded to many things; knave but one,[865] and can be applyed but to thee.
Psyllus. Profound Manes! 45
Manes. Wee Cynickes are mad fellowes. Didst thou not finde I did quip thee?
Psyllus. No, verily! Why, what's a quip?
Manes. Wee great girders call it a short saying of a sharpe wit, with a bitter sense in a sweet word. 50
Psyllus. How canst thou thus divine, divide, define, dispute, and all on the sodaine?
Manes. Wit will have his swing! I am bewitcht, inspired, inflamed, infected.
Psyllus. Well then will I not tempt thy gybing spirit. 55
Manes. Doe not, Psyllus, for thy dull head will bee but a grind-stone for my quicke wit, which if thou whet with overthwarts,[866] periisti, actum est de te! I have drawne bloud at ones braines with a bitter bob.
Psyllus. Let me crosse my selfe; for I die if I crosse thee. 60
Manes. Let me doe my businesse. I my selfe am afraid lest my wit should waxe warme, and then must it needs consume some hard head with fine and prettie jests. I am sometimes in such a vaine that, for want of some dull pate to worke on, I begin to gird my selfe. 65
Psyllus. The gods shield me from such a fine fellow, whose words melt wits like waxe.
Manes. Well then, let us to the matter. In faith, my master meaneth to morrow to flie.
Psyllus. It is a jest. 70
Manes. Is it a jest to flie? Shouldest thou flie so soone, thou shouldest repent it in earnest.
Psyllus. Well, I will be the cryer.
Manes and Psyllus (one after another). O ys! O ys! O ys![867] All manner of men, women, or children, that will come to morrow 75 into the market place betweene the houres of nine and ten shall see Diogenes the Cynicke—flie.[868]
Psyllus. I doe not thinke he will flie.
Manes. Tush, say "flie!"
Psyllus. Flie. 80
Manes. Now let us goe; for I will not see him againe till midnight,—I have a backe way into his tub.
Psyllus. Which way callest thou the backe way, when every way is open?
Manes. I meane to come in at his backe. 85
Psyllus. Well, let us goe away, that we may returne speedily.
Exeunt.
Actus tertius. Scæna secunda.[869]
[Enter] Apelles, Campaspe.
Apel. I shall never draw your eyes well, because they blinde mine.[870]
Camp. Why then, paint mee without eyes, for I am blind.[871]
Apel. Were you ever shadowed before of any?
Camp. No; and would you could so now shadow me that I 5 might not be perceived of any.[872]
Apel. It were pitie but that so absolute[873] a face should furnish Venus temple amongst these pictures.
Camp. What are these pictures?
Apel. This is Læda, whom Jove deceived in likenesse of a swan. 10
Camp. A faire woman, but a foule deceit.
Apel. This is Alcmena, unto whom Jupiter came in shape of Amphitrion, her husband, and begate Hercules.
Camp. A famous sonne, but an infamous fact.
Apel. Hee might doe it, because hee was a god. 15
Camp. Nay, therefore it was evill done because he was a god.
Apel. This is Danae, into whose prison Jupiter drizled a golden showre, and obtained his desire.
Camp. What gold can make one yeeld to desire?
Apel. This is Europa, whom Jupiter ravished; this, Antiopa.[874] 20
Camp. Were all the gods like this Jupiter?
Apel. There were many gods in this like Jupiter.
Camp. I thinke in those dayes love was well ratified among men on earth when lust was so full authorised by the gods in Heaven.
Apel. Nay, you may imagine there were women passing amiable 25 when there were gods exceeding amorous.
Camp. Were women never so faire, men would be false.
Apel. Were women never so false, men would be fond.
Camp. What counterfeit is this, Apelles?
Apel. This is Venus, the goddesse of love. 30
Camp. What, bee there also loving goddesses?
Apel. This is shee that hath power to command the very affections of the heart.
Camp. How is she hired,—by prayer, by sacrifice, or bribes?
Apel. By prayer, sacrifice, and bribes. 35
Camp. What prayer?
Apel. Vowes irrevocable.
Camp. What sacrifice?
Apel. Hearts ever sighing, never dissembling.
Camp. What bribes? 40
Apel. Roses and kisses. But were you never in love?
Camp. No; nor love in me.
Apel. Then have you injuried many.
Camp. How so?
Apel. Because you have been loved of many. 45
Camp. Flattered, perchance, of some.
Apel. It is not possible that a face so faire and a wit so sharpe, both without comparison, should not be apt to love.
Camp. If you begin to tip your tongue with cunning, I pray dip your pensill in colours and fall to that you must doe, not that you 50 would doe.
Actus tertius. Scæna tertia.[875]
[Enter] Clytus [and] Parmenio.
Clytus. Parmenio, I cannot tell how it commeth to passe that in Alexander now a dayes there groweth an unpatient kind of life: in the morning he is melancholy, at noone solemne, at all times either more sowre or severe than hee was accustomed.
Par. In kings causes I rather love to doubt[876] than conjecture, 5 and thinke it better to bee ignorant than inquisitive: they have long eares and stretched armes;[877] in whose heads suspition is a proofe, and to be accused is to be condemned.
Clytus. Yet betweene us there can bee no danger to find out the cause, for that there is no malice to withstand it. It may be an unquenchable 10 thirst of conquering maketh him unquiet; it is not unlikely his long ease hath altered his humour; that he should be in love, it is not[878] impossible.
Par. In love, Clytus? No, no; it is as farre from his thought as treason in ours. He, whose ever-waking eye, whose never-tired 15 heart, whose body patient of labour, whose mind unsatiable of victorie, hath alwayes beene noted, cannot so soone be melted into the weake conceits of love. Aristotle told him there were many worlds; and that he hath not conquered one that gapeth for all galleth Alexander. But here he cometh. 20
[Enter Alexander and Hephestion.]
Alex. Parmenio and Clytus, I would have you both readie to goe into Persia about an ambassage no lesse profitable to me than to your selves honourable.
Clytus. Wee are readie at all commands, wishing nothing else but continually to be commanded. 25
Alex. Well then, withdraw yourselves till I have further considered of this matter.
Exeunt Clytus and Parmenio.
Now wee will see how Apelles goeth forward. I doubt mee that nature hath overcome art, and her countenance his cunning.
Hep. You love, and therefore think any thing. 30
Alex. But not so farre in love with Campaspe as with Bucephalus,[879] if occasion serve either of conflict or[880] conquest.
Hep. Occasion cannot want if will doe not. Behold all Persia swelling in the pride of their owne power, the Scythians carelesse what courage or fortune can do, the Egyptians dreaming in the 35 southsayings of their augures and gaping over the smoake of their beasts intralls. All these, Alexander, are to be subdued, if that world be not slipped out of your head which you have sworne to conquer with that hand.
Alex. I confesse the labour's fit for Alexander, and yet recreation 40 necessarie among so many assaults, bloudie wounds, intolerable troubles. Give me leave a little, if not to sit, yet to breath. And doubt not but Alexander can, when hee will, throw affections as farre from him as he can cowardise. But behold Diogenes talking with one at his tub.[881] 45
Crysus. One penny, Diogenes; I am a Cynicke.
Diog. Hee made thee a begger that first gave thee any thing.
Crysus. Why, if thou wilt give nothing, no bodie will give thee.
Diog. I want nothing till the springs drie and the earth perish.
Crysus. I gather for the gods. 50
Diog. And I care not for those gods which want money.
Crysus. Thou art not a right[882] Cynick, that wilt give nothing.
Diog. Thou art not, that wilt begge any thing.
Crysus [crossing to Alexander]. Alexander! King Alexander! Give a poore Cynick a groat.[883] 55
Alex. It is not for a king to give a groat.
Crysus. Then give me a talent.[884]
Alex. It is not for a begger to aske a talent. Away!
[Exit Crysus. Alexander crosses to the part of the stage opposite the tub of Diogenes where Apelles and Campaspe are.] 60
Apelles![885]
Apel. Here.
Alex. Now, gentlewoman, doth not your beautie put the painter to his trumpe?
Camp. Yes, my lord, seeing so disordered a countenance, hee feareth hee shall shadow a deformed counterfeite. 65
Alex. Would he could colour the life with the feature! And mee thinketh, Apelles, were you as cunning as report saith you are, you may paint flowres as well with sweet smels as fresh colours, observing in your mixture such things as should draw neere to their savours. 70
Apel. Your Majestie must know, it is no lesse hard to paint savours than vertues; colours can neither speake nor thinke.
Alex. Where doe you first begin when you draw any picture?
Apel. The proportion of the face in just compasse as I can.
Alex. I would begin with the eye, as a light to all the rest. 75
Apel. If you will paint, as you are a king, Your Majestie may beginne where you please; but as you would bee a painter, you must begin with the face.
Alex. Aurelius[886] would in one houre colour foure faces.
Apel. I marvaile in halfe an houre hee did not foure. 80
Alex. Why, is it so easie?
Apel. No; but he doth it so homely.
Alex. When will you finish Campaspe?
Apel. Never finish; for alwayes in absolute beauty there is somewhat above art. 85
Alex. Why should not I by labour be as cunning as Apelles?
Apel. God shield you should have cause to be so cunning[887] as Apelles!
Alex. Me thinketh foure colours are sufficient to shadow any countenance; and so it was in the time of Phydias.[888] 90
Apel. Then had men fewer fancies and women not so many favours.[889] For now, if the haire of her eyebrowes be blacke, yet must the haire of her head be yellow;[890] the attire of her head must bee different from the habit of her bodie, else would the picture seeme like the blazon of ancient armory,[891] not like the sweet delight 95 of new-found amiablenesse.[892] For, as in garden knots[893] diversitie of odours make a more sweete savour, or as in musique divers strings cause a more delicate consent,[894] so, in painting, the more colours, the better counterfeit,—observing black for a ground, and the rest for grace. 100
Alex. Lend me thy pensill, Apelles; I will paint, and thou shalt judge.
Apel. Here.
Alex. The coale[895] breakes.
Apel. You leane too hard. 105
Alex. Now it blackes not.
Apel. You leane too soft.
Alex. This is awrie.
Apel. Your eye goeth not with your hand.
Alex. Now it is worse. 110
Apel. Your hand goeth not with your minde.
Alex. Nay, if all be too hard or soft,—so many rules and regards that ones hand, ones eye, ones minde must all draw together,—I had rather bee setting of a battell than blotting of a boord.[896] But how have I done here? 115
Apel. Like a king.
Alex. I thinke so; but nothing more unlike a painter.[897] Well, Apelles, Campaspe is finished as I wish. Dismisse her, and bring presently her counterfeit after me.
Apel. I will. 120
Alex. [as he crosses the stage.] Now, Hephestion, doth not this matter cotton as I would?[898] Campaspe looketh pleasantly; libertie will encrease her beautie, and my love shall advance her honour.
Hep. I will not contrarie your Majestie; for time must weare out that love hath wrought, and reason weane what appetite nursed. 125
[Campaspe passes on her way to the farther door.]
Alex. How stately shee passeth by, yet how soberly, a sweete consent in her countenance, with a chaste disdaine, desire mingled with coynesse, and—I cannot tell how to terme it—a curst, yeelding modesty![899]
Hep. Let her passe. 130
Alex. So shee shall for the fairest on the earth!
Exeunt [Alexander and Hephestion at one side of the stage, Apelles at the other.]
Actus tertius. Scæna quarta.[900]
[Enter] Psyllus [and] Manes.
Psyllus. I shall be hanged for tarrying so long.
Manes. I pray God my master be not flowne before I come!
[Enter Apelles.]
Psyllus. Away, Manes, my master doth come.
[Exit Manes.]
Apel. Where have you beene all this while?
Psyllus. Nowhere but here. 5
Apel. Who was here sithens my comming?
Psyllus. Nobodie.
Apel. Ungracious wag, I perceive you have beene a loytering! Was Alexander nobodie?
Psyllus. He was a king, I meant no mean bodie. 10
Apel. I will cudgell your bodie for it, and then will I say it was no bodie, because it was no honest bodie. Away, in! Exit Psyllus. Unfortunate Apelles, and therefore unfortunate because Apelles! Hast thou by drawing her beautie brought to passe that thou canst scarce draw thine owne breath? And by so much the more hast 15 thou increased thy care by how much the more hast thou[901] shewed thy cunning? Was it not sufficient to behold the fire and warme thee, but with Satyrus thou must kisse the fire and burne thee? O Campaspe, Campaspe! Art must yeeld to nature, reason to appetite, wisdome to affection! Could Pigmalion entreate by prayer 20 to have his ivory turned into flesh, and cannot Apelles obtaine by plaints to have the picture of his love changed to life? Is painting so farre inferiour to carving? Or dost thou, Venus, more delight to bee hewed with chizels then shadowed with colours? What Pigmalion, or what Pyrgoteles, or what Lysippus is hee,[902] that ever 25 made thy face so faire or spread thy fame so farre as I? Unlesse, Venus, in this thou enviest mine art, that in colouring my sweet Campaspe I have left no place by cunning to make thee so amiable.[903] But, alas, shee is the paramour to a prince! Alexander, the monarch of the earth, hath both her body and affection. For what 30 is it that kings cannot obtaine by prayers, threats, and promises? Will not shee thinke it better to sit under a cloth of estate[904] like a queene than in a poore shop like a huswife, and esteeme it sweeter to be the concubine of the lord of the world than spouse to a painter in Athens? Yes, yes, Apelles, thou maist swimme against the 35 streame with the crab, and feede against the winde with the deere, and peck against the steele with the cockatrice:[905] starres are to be looked at, not reached at; princes to be yeelded unto, not contended with; Campaspe to be honoured, not obtained; to be painted, not possessed of thee. O faire face! O unhappy hand! And why 40 didst thou drawe it—so faire a face? O beautifull countenance, the expres image of Venus, but somwhat fresher, the only patterne of that eternitie which Jupiter dreaming, asleepe, could not conceive againe waking! Blush, Venus, for I am ashamed to ende thee! Now must I paint things unpossible for mine art but agreeable 45 with my affections,—deepe and hollow sighes, sad and melancholie thoughtes, woundes and slaughters of conceits, a life posting to death, a death galloping from life, a wavering constancie, an unsetled resolution, and what not, Apelles? And what but Apelles?[906] But as they that are shaken with a feaver are to be warmed with 50 cloathes, not groanes, and as he that melteth in a consumption is to be recured by colices,[907] not conceits, so the feeding canker of my care, the never-dying worme of my heart, is to be killed by counsell, not cries, by applying of remedies, not by replying of reasons. And sith in cases desperate there must be used medicines that are 55 extreame, I will hazard that little life that is left, to restore the greater part that is lost; and this shall be my first practise,—for wit must worke where authoritie is not,—as soone as Alexander hath viewed this portraiture, I will by devise give it a blemish, that by that meanes she may come againe to my shop; and then as 60 good it were to utter my love and die with deniall as conceale it and live in dispaire.
Song by Apelles.
Cupid and my Campaspe playd
At cardes for kisses; Cupid payd.
He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows,65
His mothers doves, and teeme of sparows;
Looses them, too. Then, downe he throwes
The corrall of his lippe, the rose
Growing on's cheek,—but none knows how,—
With these, the cristall of his brow,70
And then the dimple of his chinne;
All these did my Campaspe winne.
At last, hee set her both his eyes;
Shee won, and Cupid blind did rise.
O love! has shee done this to thee?75
What shall, alas, become of mee?
[Exit Apelles.]
Actus quartus. Scæna prima.[908]
[Enter] Solinus, Psyllus, [and] Granichus.[909]
Sol. This is the place, the day, the time, that Diogenes hath appointed to flie.
Psyllus. I will not loose the flight of so faire a foule as Diogenes is though my master cudgell my no body as he threatned.
Gran. What, Psyllus, will the beast wag his wings to day? 5
[Enter Manes.]
Psyllus. Wee shall heare; for here commeth Manes. Manes, will it be?
Manes. Be? He were best be as cunning as a bee, or else shortly he will not bee at all.
Gran. How is hee furnished to flie? Hath he feathers? 10
Manes. Thou art an asse! Capons, geese, and owles, have feathers. He hath found Dedalus old waxen wings,[910] and hath beene peecing them this moneth, he is so broad in the shoulders. O, you shall see him cut the ayre even like a tortoys!
Sol. Me thinkes so wise a man should not bee so mad; his body 15 must needs be too heavie.
Manes. Why, hee hath eaten nothing this seven night but corke and feathers.
Psyllus [aside]. Touch him,[911] Manes.
Manes. Hee is so light that hee can scarce keepe him from flying 20 at midnight.
Populus intrat.
Manes. See they begin to flocke, and, behold, my master bustels himselfe to flie.
[They draw nearer the tub.]
Diog.[912] You wicked and bewitched Athenians, whose bodies make the earth to groane, and whose breathes infect the ayre with stench, 25 come ye to see Diogenes flie? Diogenes commeth to see you sinke. Yea,[913] call me dogge! So I am, for I long to gnaw the bons in your skins. Yee tearme me an hater of men! No, I am a hater of your manners. Your lives, dissolute, not fearing death, will prove your deaths desperat, not hoping for life. What do you else 30 in Athens but sleepe in the day and surfeit in the night,—backe-gods in the morning with pride, in the evening belly-gods with gluttony! You flatter kings, and call them gods. Speak truth of your selves and confesse you are divels! From the bee you have taken, not the honey, but the wax, to make your religion, framing it to the 35 time, not to the truth. Your filthy lust you colour under a courtly colour of love, injuries abroad under the title of policies at home; and secret malice creepeth under the name of publike justice. You have caused Alexander to drie up springs and plant vines, to sow rocket and weed endiff,[914] to sheare sheepe, and shrine[915] foxes. All 40 conscience is sealed[916] at Athens: swearing commeth of a hot mettle; lying of a quick wit; flattery of a flowing tongue; undecent talke of a merry disposition. All things are lawfull at Athens: either you think there are no gods, or I must think ye are no men. You build as though you should live for ever and surfeit as though 45 you should die to morrowe. None teacheth true philosophie but Aristotle, because hee was the kings schoole-master! O times! O men! O corruption in manners! Remember that greene grasse must turne to drie hay. When you sleepe, you are not sure to wake; and when you rise, not certaine to lie downe. Looke you never so 50 high, your heads must lie level with your feet. Thus have I flowne over[917] your disordered lives; and if you will not amend your manners, I will studie to flie further from you, that I may bee neerer to honestie.[918]
Sol. Thou ravest, Diogenes, for thy life is different from thy 55 words. Did not I see thee come out of a brothell house? Was it not a shame?
Diog. It was no shame to goe out, but a shame to goe in.
Gran. It were a good deede, Manes, to beate thy master.
Manes. You were as good eate my master. 60
One of the People. Hast thou made us all fooles, and wilt thou not flie?
Diog. I tell thee, unlesse thou be honest, I will flie.[919]
People. Dog, dog, take a bone!
Diog. Thy father need feare no dogs, but dogs thy father.[920] 65
People. We will tell Alexander that thou reprovest him behinde his back.
Diog. And I will tell him that you flatter him before his face.
People. Wee will cause all the boyes in the streete to hisse at thee.
Diog. Indeede, I thinke the Athenians have their children readie 70 for any vice, because they bee Athenians.
[Exeunt Populus and Solinus.]
Manes. Why, master, meane you not to flie?
Diog. No, Manes, not without wings.
Manes. Everybody will account you a lyar.
Diog. No, I warrant you, for I will alwayes say the Athenians 75 are mischevous.
Psyllus. I care not; it was sport enough for mee to see these old huddles[921] hit home.
Gran. Nor I.
Psyllus. Come, let us goe; and hereafter when I meane to rayle 80 upon any body openly, it shall bee given out, I will flie.
Exeunt.
Actus quartus. Scæna secunda.[922]
[Enter] Campaspe.[923]
Camp. sola. Campaspe, it is hard to judge whether thy choyce be more unwise or thy chance unfortunate. Doest thou preferre—but stay, utter not that in wordes which maketh thine eares to glow with thoughts. Tush, better thy tongue wagge than thy heart breake! Hath a painter crept further into thy minde than a 5 prince;—Apelles, than Alexander? Fond wench, the basenes of thy minde bewraies the meannesse of thy birth. But, alas, affection is a fire which kindleth as well[924] in the bramble as in the oake, and catcheth hold where it first lighteth, not where it may best burne. Larkes, that mount aloft in the ayre, build their neasts 10 below in the earth; and women that cast their eyes upon kings may place their hearts upon vassals. A needle will become thy fingers better than a lute, and a distaffe is fitter for thy hand than a scepter. Antes live safely till they have gotten wings, and juniper is not blowne up till it hath gotten an high top: the meane estate is without 15 care as long as it continueth without pride. [Enter Apelles.] But here commeth Apelles, in whom I would there were the like affection.
Apel. Gentlewoman, the misfortune I had with your picture will put you to some paines to sit againe to be painted. 20
Camp. It is small paines for mee to sit still, but infinite for you to draw still.
Apel. No, madame; to painte Venus was a pleasure, but to shadow the sweete face of Campaspe, it is a heaven!
Camp. If your tongue were made of the same flesh that your 25 heart is, your words would bee as your thoughts are; but, such a common thing it is amongst you to commend that oftentimes for fashion sake you call them beautifull whom you know blacke.
Apel. What might men doe to be beleeved?
Camp. Whet their tongue on their hearts. 30
Apel. So they doe, and speake as they thinke.
Camp. I would they did!
Apel. I would they did not!
Camp. Why, would you have them dissemble?
Apel. Not in love, but their love.[925] But will you give mee leave 35 to aske you a question without offence?
Camp. So that you will answere mee another without excuse.
Apel. Whom doe you love best in the world?
Camp. He that made me last in the world.
Apel. That was a god. 40
Camp. I had thought it had beene a man. But whom doe you honour most, Apelles?
Apel. The thing that is likest you, Campaspe.
Camp. My picture?
Apel. I dare not venture upon your person. But come, let us 45 go in: for Alexander will thinke it long till we returne.
Exeunt.
Actus quartus. Scæna tertia.[926]
[Enter] Clytus [and] Parmenio.
Clytus. We heare nothing of our embassage,—a colour[927] belike to bleare our eyes or tickle our eares or inflame our hearts. But what doth Alexander in the meane season but use for tantara,—sol, fa, la;[928] for his hard couch, downe beds; for his handfull of water, his standing-cup of wine?[929] 5
Par. Clytus, I mislike this new delicacie and pleasing peace, for what else do we see now than a kind of softnes in every mans minde: bees to make their hives in souldiers helmets;[930] our steeds furnished with footclothes of gold, insteede of sadles of steele; more time to be required to scowre the rust of our weapons than 10 there was wont to be in subduing the countries of our enemies. Sithence Alexander fell from his hard armour to his soft robes, behold the face of his court: youths that were wont to carry devises of victory in their shields engrave now posies of love in their ringes; they that were accustomed on trotting horses to 15 charge the enemie with a launce, now in easie coches ride up and down to court ladies; in steade of sword and target to hazard their lives, use pen and paper to paint their loves; yea, such a feare and faintnesse is growne in court that they wish rather to heare the blowing of a horne to hunt than the sound of a trumpet to fight. 20 O Philip, wert thou alive to see this alteration,—thy men turned to women, thy souldiers to lovers, gloves worne in velvet caps,[931] in stead of plumes in graven helmets,—thou wouldest either dye among them for sorrow or counfound[932] them for anger.
Clytus. Cease, Parmenio, least in speaking what becommeth thee 25 not, thou feele what liketh thee not: truth is never with out a scracht face; whose tongue although it cannot be cut out, yet must it be tied up.
Par. It grieveth me not a little for Hephestion, who thirsteth for honour, not ease; but such is his fortune and neernesse in 30 friendship to Alexander that hee must lay a pillow under his head when hee would put a target in his hand. But let us draw in, to see how well it becomes them to tread the measures in a daunce[933] that were wont to set the order for a march.
Exeunt.
Actus quartus. Scæna quarta.[934]
[Enter] Apelles [and] Campaspe.
Apel. I have now, Campaspe, almost made an ende.
Camp. You told mee, Apelles, you would never end.
Apel. Never end my love, for it shal be[935] eternall.
Camp. That is, neither to have beginning nor ending.
Apel. You are disposed to mistake; I hope you do not mistrust. 5
Camp. What will you say, if Alexander perceive your love?
Apel. I will say it is no treason to love.
Camp. But how if hee will not suffer thee to see my person?
Apel. Then will I gaze continually on thy picture.
Camp. That will not feede thy heart. 10
Apel. Yet shall it fill mine eye. Besides, the sweet thoughts, the sure hopes, thy protested faith, wil cause me to embrace thy shadow continually in mine armes, of the which by strong imagination I will make a substance.
Camp. Wel, I must be gone. But this assure your selfe, that I 15 had rather be in thy shop grinding colours than in Alexander's court following higher fortunes. [As she crosses the stage[936]] Foolish wench, what hast thou done? That, alas, which cannot be undone; and therefore I feare me undone. But content is such a life; I care not for aboundance. O Apelles, thy love commeth from the 20 heart but Alexander's from the mouth! The love of kings is like the blowing of winds, which whistle sometimes gently among the leaves and straight waies turne the trees up by the rootes; or fire, which warmeth afarre off, and burneth neere hand; or the sea, which maketh men hoise their sailes in a flattering calme, and to 25 cut their mastes in a rough storme. They place affection by times, by policy, by appoyntment. If they frowne, who dares call them unconstant; if bewray secrets, who will tearme them untrue; if fall to other loves, who trembles not, if hee call them unfaithfull? In kings there can bee no love but to queenes; for as neere must 30 they meete in majestie as they doe in affection. It is requisite to stand aloofe from kings love, Jove, and lightening.
Exit.
Apel.[937] Now, Apelles, gather thy wits together. Campaspe is no lesse wise then faire; thy selfe must be no lesse cunning then faithfull.[938] It is no small matter to be rivall with Alexander. 35
[Enter Page of Alexander.]
Page. Apelles, you must come away quickly with the picture the king thinketh that now you have painted it, you play with it.
Apel. If I would play with pictures, I have enough at home.
Page. None, perhaps, you like so well.
Apel. It may be I have painted none so well. 40
Page. I have knowen many fairer faces.
Apel. And I many better boyes.
Exeunt.
Actus quintus. Scæna prima.[939]
[Enter] Sylvius, Perim, Milo, Trico, [and] Manes. [Diogenes in his tub.][940]
Syl. I have brought my sons, Diogenes, to be taught of thee.
Diog. What can thy sonnes do?
Syl. You shall see their qualities. Dance, sirha!
Then Perim danceth.
How like you this? Doth he well?
Diog. The better, the worser.[941] 5
Syl. The musicke very good.
Diog. The musitions very bad, who onely study to have their strings in tune, never framing their manners to order.
Syl. Now shall you see the other. Tumble, sirha!
Milo tumbleth.
How like you this? Why do you laugh? 10
Diog. To see a wagge that was borne to breake his neck by destinie to practise it by art.
Milo. This dogge will bite me; I will not be with him.
Diog. Feare not boy; dogges eate no thistles.
Perim. I marvell what dogge thou art, if thou be a dogge. 15
Diog. When I am hungry, a mastife; and when my belly is full, a spannell.
Syl. Dost thou beleeve[942] that there are any gods, that thou art so dogged?
Diog. I must needs beleeve there are gods, for I thinke thee an 20 enemie to them.
Syl. Why so?
Diog. Because thou hast taught one of thy sonnes to rule his legges and not to follow learning, the other to bend his bodie every way and his minde no way. 25
Perim. Thou doest nothing but snarle and barke, like a dogge.
Diog. It is the next[943] way to drive away a theefe.
Syl. Now shall you heare the third, who sings like a nightingale.
Diog. I care not; for I have a nightingale to sing[944] her selfe.
Syl. Sing, sirha! 30
Tryco singeth.
Song.[945]
What[946] bird so sings yet so dos wayle?
O 'tis the ravish'd[947] nightingale.
"Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu," shee cryes;
And still her woes at midnight rise.
Brave prick song,[948] who is't now we heare? 35
None but the larke so shrill and cleare.
How at heavens gats[949] she claps her wings,
The morne not waking till shee sings!
Heark, heark, with what a pretty throat
Poore Robin Red-breast tunes his note! 40
Heark how the jolly cuckoes sing
"Cuckoe," to welcome in the spring;
"Cuckoe," to welcome in the spring.
Syl. Loe, Diogenes! I am sure thou canst not doe so much.
Diog. But there is never a thrush but can. 45
Syl. What hast thou taught Manes, thy man?
Diog. To be as unlike as may be thy sons.
Manes. He hath taught me to fast, lie hard, and run away.
Syl. How sayest thou, Perim, wilt thou bee with him?
Perim. I, so he will teach me first to runne away. 50
Diog. Thou needest not be taught, thy legges are so nimble.
Syl. How sayest thou, Milo, wilt thou be with him?
Diog. Nay, hold your peace; hee shall not.
Syl. Why?
Diog. There is not roome enough for him and me to tumble 55 both in one tub.
Syl. Well, Diogenes, I perceive my sonnes brooke not thy manners.
Diog. I thought no lesse, when they knew my vertues.
Syl. Farewell, Diogenes; thou neededst not have scraped rootes, 60 if thou wouldst have followed Alexander.
Diog. Nor thou have followed Alexander, if thou hadst scraped rootes.[950]
Exeunt [all except Diogenes.]
Actus quintus. Scæna secunda.[951]
[Enter Apelles.[952]]
Apel. I feare mee, Apelles, that thine eyes have blabbed that which thy tongue durst not! What little regard hadst thou! Whilest Alexander viewed the counterfeit of Campaspe, thou stoodest gazing on her countenance. If he espie or but suspect, thou must needs twice perish,—with his hate and thine owne love. 5 Thy pale lookes when he blushed, thy sad countenance when he smiled, thy sighes when he questioned, may breed in him a jelousie, perchance a frenzie. O love! I never before knew what thou wert, and now hast thou made me that I know not what my selfe am! Onely this I know, that I must endure intolerable passions 10 for unknowne pleasures. Dispute not the cause, wretch, but yeeld to it; for better it is to melt with desire than wrastle with love. Cast thy selfe on thy carefull bed; be content to live unknown, and die unfound.[953] O Campaspe, I have painted thee in my heart! Painted? Nay, contrary to mine arte, imprinted; and that in such 15 deepe characters that nothing can rase it out, unlesse it rubbe my[954] heart out.
Exit.
Actus quintus. Scæna tertia.[955]
[Enter] Milectus, Phrygius, [and] Lais.[956] [Diogenes is in his tub.]
Mil. It shall goe hard but this peace shall bring us some pleasure.
Phry. Downe with armes, and up with legges! This is a world for the nonce![957]
Lais. Sweet youths, if you knew[958] what it were to save your sweet blood, you would not so foolishly go about to spend it. 5 What delight can there be in gashing, to make foule scarres in faire faces, and crooked maimes in streight legges, as though men, being borne goodly by nature, would of purpose become deformed by folly,—and all, forsooth for a new-found tearme, called valiant, a word which breedeth more quarrels than the sense can commendation? 10
Mil. It is true, Lais, a feather-bed hath no fellow. Good drinke makes good blood, and shall pelting[959] words spill it?
Phry. I meane to enjoy the world, and to draw out my life at the wire-drawers; not to curtall it off at the cutlers. 15
Lais. You may talke of warre, speake bigge, conquer worlds with great words; but stay at home, where in steade of alarums you shall have dances, for hot battailes with fierce men, gentle skirmishes with faire women. These pewter coates[960] can never sit so well as satten doublets. Beleeve me, you cannot conceive the 20 pleasure of peace unlesse you despise the rudenes of warre.
Mil. It is so. But see Diogenes prying over his tub! Diogenes what sayest thou to such a morsell? [Pointing to Lais.]
Diog. I say I would spit it out of my mouth, because it should not poyson my stomacke. 25
Phry. Thou speakest as thou art; it is noe meate for dogges.
Diog. I am a dogge, and philosophy rates[961] me from carrion.
Lais. Uncivil wretch, whose manners are answerable to thy calling, the time was thou wouldest have had my company, had it not beene, as thou saidst, too deare. 30
Diog. I remember there was a thing that I repented mee of, and now thou hast tolde it. Indeed, it was too deare of nothing,[962] and thou deare to no bodie.
Lais. Downe, villaine, or I will have thy head broken!
Mil. Will you couch?[963] 35
Phry. Avant, curre! Come, sweet Lays, let us goe to some place and possesse peace. But first let us sing; there is more pleasure in tuning of a voyce, than in a volly of shot.
[A Song.]
Mil. Now let us make hast, least Alexander finde us here!
Exeunt [all except Diogenes.]
Actus quintus. Scæna quarta.[964]
[Enter] Alexander, Hephestion, [and] Page.[965] [Diogenes is in his tub.]
Alex. Methinketh, Hephestion, you are more melancholy than you were accustomed; but I perceive it is all for Alexander. You can neither brooke this peace nor my pleasure. Bee of good cheare; though I winke, I sleepe not.
Hep. Melancholy I am not, nor well content; for, I know not 5 how, there is such a rust crept into my bones with this long ease that I feare I shall not scowre it out with infinite labours.
Alex. Yes, yes, if all the travailes of conquering the world will set either thy bodie or mine in tune, we will undertake them. But what thinke you of Apelles? Did yee ever see any so perplexed? 10 He neither answered directly to any question, nor looked stedfastly upon any thing. I hold my life the painter is in love.
Hep. It may be; for commonly we see it incident in artificers to be enamoured of their owne workes, as Archidamus of his wooden dove, Pygmalion of his ivorie image,[966] Arachne of her 15 woven swanne,[967]—especially painters, who playing with their owne conceits, now coveting[968] to draw a glancing eie, then a rolling, now a winking, still mending it, never ending it, till they be caught with it, and then, poore soules, they kisse the colours with their lips, with which before they were loth to taint their fingers. 20
Alex. I will find it out. Page, goe speedily for Apelles. Will him to come hither; and when you see us earnestly in talke, sodainly crie out, "Apelles shop is on fire!"
Page. It shall be done.
Alex. Forget not your lesson. 25
[Exit Page.]
Hep. I marvell what your devise shal be.
Alex. The event shall prove.
Hep. I pittie the poore painter if he be in love.
Alex. Pitie him not, I pray thee. That severe gravity set aside, what doe you thinke of love? 30
Hep. As the Macedonians doe of their hearbe beet,—which looking yellow in the ground and blacke in the hand,—thinke it better seene than toucht.
Alex. But what doe you imagine it to be?
Hep. A word, by superstition thought a god, by use turned to 35 an humour, by selfe-will made a flattering madnesse.
Alex. You are too hard-hearted to thinke so of love. Let us goe to Diogenes. [They cross the stage.] Diogenes, thou mayst thinke it somewhat that Alexander commeth to thee againe so soone.
Diog. If you come to learne, you could not come soone enough; 40 if to laugh, you be come too soone.
Hep. It would better become thee to be more courteous and frame thy self to please.
Diog. And you better to bee lesse, if you durst displease.
Alex. What doest thou thinke of the time we have here? 45
Diog. That we have little and lose much.
Alex. If one be sicke, what wouldst thou have him doe?
Diog. Bee sure that hee make not his physician his heire.
Alex. If thou mightest have thy will, how much ground would content thee? 50
Diog. As much as you in the end must be contented withall.
Alex. What, a world?
Diog. No, the length of my bodie.
Alex. [aside]. Hephestion, shall I bee a little pleasant with him?
Hep. [aside]. You may; but hee will be very perverse with you. 55
Alex. [aside]. It skils not;[969] I cannot be angry with him. Diogenes, I pray thee what doest thou thinke of love?
Diog. A little worser than I can of hate.
Alex. And why?
Diog. Because it is better to hate the things which make to love 60 than to love the things which give occasion of hate.
Alex. Why, bee not women the best creatures in the world?
Diog. Next men and bees.
Alex. What doest thou dislike chiefly in a woman?
Diog. One thing. 65
Alex. What?
Diog. That she is a woman.
Alex. In mine opinion thou wert never borne of a woman, that thou thinkest so hardly of women. [Enter Apelles.] But now commeth Apelles, who I am sure is as farre from thy thoughts as 70 thou art from his cunning. Diogenes, I will have thy cabin[970] removed neerer to my court, because I will be a philosopher.
Diog. And when you have done so, I pray you remove your court further from my cabin, because I will not be a courtier.
Alex. But here commeth Apelles. Apelles, what peece of work 75 have you now in hand?
Apel. None in hand, if it like your Majestie; but I am devising a platforme[971] in my head.
Alex. I thinke your hand put it in your head. Is it nothing about Venus? 80
Apel. No, but something above[972] Venus.
[The Page runs in.]
Page. Apelles, Apelles, looke aboute[972] you! Your shop is on fire!
Apel. [starting off]. Aye mee, if the picture of Campaspe be burnt, I am undone! 85
Alex. Stay, Apelles; no haste. It is your heart is on fire, not your shop; and if Campaspe hang there, I would shee were burnt. But have you the picture of Campaspe? Belike you love her well, that you care not though all be lost, so she be safe.
Apel. Not love her! But your Majestie knowes that painters in 90 their last workes are said to excell themselves; and in this I have so much pleased my selfe, that the shadow as much delighteth mee, being an artificer, as the substance doth others, that are amorous.
Alex. You lay your colours grosly.[973] Though I could not paint in your shop, I can spie into your excuse. Be not ashamed, Apelles; 95 it is a gentlemans sport to be in love. [To the Page.] Call hither Campaspe. [Exit Page.] Methinkes[974] I might have beene made privie to your affection: though my counsell had not bin necessary, yet my countenance might have beene thought requisite. But Apelles, forsooth, loveth under hand; yea, and under Alexanders 100 nose, and—but I say no more!
Apel. Apelles loveth not so; but hee liveth to doe as Alexander will.
[Re-enter Page with Campaspe.]
Alex. Campaspe, here is newes. Apelles is in love with you.
Camp. It pleaseth your Majestie to say so. 105
Alex. [aside]. Hephestion, I will trie her too.—Campaspe, for the good qualities I know in Apelles and the vertue I see in you, I am determined you shall enjoy one another. How say you, Campaspe, would you say, "I?"
Camp. Your hand-maid must obey if you command. 110
Alex. [aside]. Thinke you not, Hephestion, that she would faine be commanded.
Hep. [aside]. I am no thought-catcher, but I ghesse unhappily.[975]
Alex. I will not enforce marriage where I cannot compell love.
Camp. But your Majestie may move a question where you be 115 willing to have a match.
Alex. [aside]. Beleeve me, Hephestion, these parties are agreed; they would have mee both priest and witnesse.—Apelles, take Campaspe! Why move yee not? Campaspe, take Apelles! Will it not be? If you be ashamed one of the other, by my consent you 120 shall never come together. But dissemble not, Campaspe. Doe you love Apelles?
Camp. Pardon, my lord; I love Apelles.
Alex. Apelles, it were a shame for you, being loved so openly of so faire a virgin, to say the contrairie. Do you love Campaspe? 125
Apel. Onely Campaspe!
Alex. Two loving wormes, Hephestion! I perceive Alexander cannot subdue the affections of men, though he[976] conquer their countries. Love falleth, like a dew, as well upon the low grasse as upon the high cedar.[977] Sparkes have their heate, ants their gall, 130 flies their spleene. Well, enjoy one another. I give her thee frankly, Apelles. Thou shalt see that Alexander maketh but a toy of love and leadeth affection in fetters, using fancie as a foole to make him sport or a minstrell to make him merry. It is not the amorous glance of an eye can settle an idle thought in the heart. 135 No, no, it is childrens game, a life for seamsters and schollers; the one, pricking in clouts,[978] have nothing else to think on; the other, picking fancies out of books, have little else to marvaile at. Go, Apelles, take with you your Campaspe; Alexander is cloyed with looking on that which thou wondrest at.[979] 140
Apel. Thankes to your Majestie on bended knee: you have honoured Apelles.
Camp. Thankes with bowed heart: you have blessed Campaspe.
Exeunt [Apelles and Campaspe].
Alex. Page, goe warne Clytus and Parmenio and the other lords to be in a readinesse; let the trumpet sound; strike up the drumme; 145 and I will presently into Persia. How now, Hephestion, is Alexander able to resist love as he list?
Hep. The conquering of Thebes was not so honourable as the subduing of these thoughts.
Alex. It were a shame Alexander should desire to command the 150 world, if he could not command himselfe. But come, let us goe. I will trie whether I can better beare my hand with my heart[980] than I could with mine eye. And, good Hephestion, when all the world is wonne and every country is thine and mine, either find me out another to subdue, or, of[981] my word I will fall in love. 155
Exeunt.
FINIS