[_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 thirst of conquering maketh him unquiet; it is not 10
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 necessarie among so many assaults, bloudie wounds, 40
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 of new-found amiablenesse.[892] For, as in garden 95
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._]