_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
in affection. 15
_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
delicate tunes and amorous glances?[847] O Alexander, that soft 40
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 framed by art 45
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 red when 50
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 heart of the greatest conquerour of the world should 55
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 from the armour of Mars to the armes of 60
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: a haire curling by nature, not art; 65
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? Though she have heavenly gifts, 70
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. There is no surfet so dangerous 75
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 the torments of a king, unlesse he be a king, whose 85
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 neither be expressed nor endured. Cease 90
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 intolerable. 95
_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._