The Tragedy of Philotas

CERTAINE SMALL POEMS LATELY PRINTED. With the Tragedie of Philotas. Written by Samvel Daniel.

Carmen amat, quiſquis carmine digna gerit.

AT LONDON Printed by G. Eld for Simon Waterſon. 1605.

THE TRAGEDIE OF PHILOTAS

By Sam: Daniel.

AT LONDON Printed by G. E. for Simon Waterſon and Edward Blount. 1605.

To the Prince.

To you moſt hopeful Prince, not as you are

But as you may be, do I giue theſe lines:

That whē your iudgemēt ſhall ariue ſo far,

As t’ouerlooke th’intricate deſignes,

Of vncontented man: you may behold

With what encounters greateſt fortunes cloſe,

What dangers, what attempts, what manifold

Incumbrances ambition undergoes:

How hardly men digeſt felicity;

How to th’intemperat, to the prodigall,

To wantonneſſe, and vnto luxury,

Many things want, but to ambition all.

And you ſhall finde the greatest enemy

That man can haue, in his proſperity.

 Here ſhall you ſee how men diſguiſe their ends,

And playte bad courſes vunder pleaſing ſhews,

How well preſumption broken wayes defends,

Which cleere-eyed iudgement grauely doth diſcloſe.

Here ſhall you ſee how th’eaſie multitude

Tranſported, take the party of diſtreſſe;

And onely out of paſſion do conclude,

Not out of iudgement; of mens practiſes,

How pow’rs ar thoght to wrong, that wrongs debar,

And kings not held in danger, though they are.

Theſe ancient repreſentments of times paſt;

Tell vs that men haue, doo, and alwayes runne

The ſelfe ſame line of action, and do cast

Their courſe alike, and nothing can be donne,

(Whilst they, their ends, and nature are the ſame:

But will be wrought vpon the ſelfe-ſame frame.

  This benefit, moſt noble Prince, doth yeeld

The ſure recordes of books in which we finde

The tenure of our ſtate, how it was held

By all our anceſtors, and in what kinde

We hold the ſame, and likewiſe how in the end

This fraile poſſeſſion of felicitie,

Shall to our late poſteritie deſcend,

By the ſame pattent of like deſtinie.

In them we finde that nothing can accrew

To man, and his condition that is new.

  And though you have a Swannet of your owne,

Which on the bankes of Douen meditates

Sweet notes for you, and vnto your renowne

The glory of his Muſicke dedicates;

And in a loftie tune is ſet to ſound

The deepe reportes of Sullein tragedies.

Yet may this laſt of me be likewiſe found,

Amongst the vowes that others ſacrifize

Vnto the hope of you, that you one day,

May grace this now neglected harmonie:

Which ſet vnto your glorious actions, may

Record the ſame to all poſteritie.

  Though I the remnant of another time,

Am neuer like to ſee that happineſſe:

Yet for the zeale that I have borne to rime,

And to the Muſes wiſh that good ſucceſſe

To others trauaile, that in better place,

And better comfort, they may be incheerd

Who ſhall deſerue, and who ſhall haue the grace

To haue a Muſe held worthy to be heard.

And know, ſweete Prince, when you ſhall come to know,

That t is not in the powre of kings to raiſe

A ſpirit for verſe that is not borne thereto:

Nor are they borne in euery Princes dayes.

For late Elizas raigne, gaue birth to more

Than all the Kings of England did before.

 And it may be, the Genius of that time,

Would leaue to her the glory in that kind;

And that the vtmoſt powers of English Ryme,

Should be within her peacefull raigne confinde.

For ſince that time our ſongs could neuer thriue,

But laine as if forlorne: though in the prime

Of this new riſing ſeaſon, we did ſtriue

To bring the beſt we could vnto the time.

  And I although among the latter traine,

And leaſt of thoſe that ſung vnto this land,

Haue borne my part, though in an humble ſtraine,

And pleaſd the gentler that did vnderstand:

And neuer had my harmleſſe Pen at all

Diſtaind with any looſe immodeſtie,

Nor euer noted to be toucht with gall,

To aggrauate the worſt mans infamy.

But ſtill haue done the faireſt offices

To virtue and the time, yet naught preuailes,

And all our labours are without ſucceſſe,

For either fauour or our virtue failes.

And therefore ſince I haue out liud the date

Of former grace, acceptance, and delight,

I would my lines late-borne beyond the fate

Of her ſpent line, had neuer come to light.

So had I not bene tax’d for wiſhing well,

Nor now miſtaken by the cenſuring ſtage

Nor, in my fame and reputation fell,

Which I eſteeme more than what all the age

Or th’earth can giue. But yeares hath don this wrong,

To make me write too much, and liue too long.

  And yet I grieue for that vnfiniſht frame,

Which thou deare Muſe didſt vow to ſacrifize,

Vnto the Bed of peace, and in the ſame

Deſigne our happineſſe to memorize,

Muſt, as it is remaine, though as it is:

It ſhall to after times relate my zeale

To kings, and vnto right, to quietneſſe,

And to the vnion of the common-weale.

But this may now ſeeme a ſuperfluous vow,

We have this peace; and thou haſt ſung ynow

   And more than wilbe heard, and then as good

  As not to write, as not be vnderſtood.

                 Sam. Dan.

The Argvment.

PHILOTAS the ſonne of Parmenio, was a man of great eſtimation among the Macedonians, and next vnto Alexander held to be the moſt valiant of the Greekes¹: patient of trauaile, exceeding bountifull, and one that loued his men & friends better than any Nobleman of the Campe: but otherwiſe noted of vaineglorie and prodigallitie, inſomuch as his father hauing notice of his carriage, warned him to make himſelfe leſſe then he was, to auoide the enuie of the Campe, & the diſlike of the King, who grew ſuſpicious of him in reſpect of the greatneſſe of his father, and his owne popularitie, and by hauing intelligence of certeine vaunts of his vſed to Antigona a fayre Curtizan borne in the cittie of Pidna, with whome being in loue, he let fall many braue wordes and boſtes of a Soldier, to aduance his owne actions and his fathers, terming Alexander at euery worde, the young man. Which ſpeeches Antigona reuealing to a compa nion of hers, were at length brought to Craterus, who with the woman carryed them to Alexander, whereby Philotas lay open to all the aduantages that might worke his ouerthrow². And in the end concealing a conſpiracie (which was reueald vnto him) intended againſt the King, was there by ſuſpected to haue beene a partie in the plotte: but brought before Alexander, hee ſo defended himſelfe, that hee obtayned his pardon for that time, ſuppd with the King that night, and yet the next day notwithſtanding, was arraignd for the ſame fact, which he ſtoutlie denying, was afterward put to torture, and then confeſt his treaſon. And indeed Alexanders drawing a pedegree from heauen with aſſuming the Perſian magnificence; was the cauſe that with drew many the hearts of the nobilitie and people from him, and by the confeſſion of Philotas was that, which gaue a purpoſe to him and his father to haue ſubuerted the King aſſoone as he had eſtabliſhed Aſia, and freed them from other feares, which being by Epheſtion and Craterus, two the moſt eſpeciall Councellors of Alexander, grauely and prouidently diſcerned, was proſecuted in that maner as became their neereneſſe, and deareneſſe with their Lord and maiſter, & fitting to the ſafetie of the ſtate, in the caſe of ſo great an aſpirer: who no doubt, had he not beene preuented, (howſoeuer popularly in the Armie it might be otherwiſe deemed) he had turnd the courſe of gouernment vpon his Father and himſelfe, or elſe by his imbroylments made it a monſter of many heads, as it afterwards proued vpon the death of Alexander. The Chorus conſiſting of three Græcians, (as of three eſtates of a kingdome) and one Perſian, repreſenting the multitude and body of a people, who vulgarlie according to their affections carried rather with compaſſion on great mens miſfortunes, than with the conſideration of the cauſe, frame their imaginations by that ſquare, and cenſure what is done.

The Names Of The Actors.

Philotas.          

Chaliſthenes.        

Alexander.         

Epheſtion.          

Craterus.          

Thais a Curtizan,     

Antigona, ſometimes one of the Concubines of Darius.

Attaras.

Sostratus.

Chorus.

Cebalinus.

Polidamas.

Nichomachus.

Metron.

Clitus.

Perdiccas.

Three Græcians & a Perſian.            

The Tragedie Of Philotas.

Actvs I.

Philotas. Chaliſthenes.

Philotas reading his Fathers letter.

MAke thy ſelfe leſſe Philotas then thou art?

What meanes my father thus to write to me?

Leſſe than I am : in what? How can that bee?

Muſt I be then ſet vnderneath my hart?

Shall I let goe the holde I haue of grace

Gaynd with ſo hard aduentures of my bloud,

And ſuffer others mount into my place,

And from below, looke vp to where I ſtood?

Shall I degrade th’opinion of my worth?

By putting off imployment; as vndone

In ſpirit or grace: whilſt other men ſet forth

To get that ſtart of action I haue wonne?

As if ſuch men as I, had any place,

To ſtay betwixt their ruine, and their grace.

Can any go beyond me, but they will

Goe ouer me, and trample on my ſtate,

And make their fortunes good vpon my ill,

Whilſt feare hath powre to wound me worſe thā hate?

 Ch. Philotas, you deceiue your ſelfe in this,           

Your father meanes not you ſhould yeeld in place,

But in your popular dependences,

Your entertainements, guifts, and publique grace,

That doth in iealous Kings, diſtaſte the Peeres,

And makes you not the greater but in feares.

  Phi. Alas, what popular dependences

Do I retaine? can I ſhake off the zeale

Of ſuch as do out of their kindneſſes

Follow my fortunes in the common-weale.

  Cha. Indeed Philotas therein you ſay true:

They follow do, your fortunes, and not you.

  Phi. Yea, but I find their loue to me ſincere.

  Cha. Euen ſuch as to the Wolfe the Fox doth beare,

That viſits him but to partake his pray,

And ſeeing his hopes deceiu’d turnes to betray.

  Phi. I know they would if I in danger ſtood,

Runne vnto me with hazzard of their bloud.

  Cha. Yea like as men to burning houſes run,

Not to lend ayde, but to be lookers on.

  Phi. But I with bountie, and with gifts haue tyde

Their hearts ſo ſure, I know, they will not ſlide.

  Cha. Bountie & guifts looſe more than they do find,

Where many looke for good, few haue their mind:

Each thinkes he merits more then that he hath,

And ſo guifts laid for loue do catch men wrath.

  Phi. But many meerely out of loue attend.

  Cha. Yea, thoſe that loue and haue no other end:

Thinke you that men can loue you, when they know

You haue them not for friendſhip, but for ſhow?

And as you are ingag’d in your affaires,

And haue your ends, thinke, likewiſe they haue theirs.

  Phi. But I do truly from my hart affect

Vertue and worth where I doe find it ſet:

Beſides, my foes doe force me in effect

To make my partie of opinion great.

And I muſt arme me thus againſt their ſcornes.

Men muſt be ſhodd, that go among the thornes.    

  Cha. Ah good Philotas you your ſelfe beguile,

Tis not the way to quench the fire with oyle.

The meeke and humble Lambe with ſmall adoo,

Sucks his owne dam, we ſee, and others too.

In Courtes men longeſt liue, and keepe their rankes,

By taking iniuries, and giuing thankes.

  Phi. And is it ſo? Then neuer are theſe haires,

Like to attaine that ſober hew of gray,

I cannot plaſter and diſguiſe m’affaires,

In other colours then my heart doth lay.

Nor can I patiently endure this fond

And ſtrange proceeding of authoritie,

That hath ingroſt vp all into their hand,

By idoliuing feeble maieſtie,

And impiouſly do labour all they can

To make the King forget he is a man.

Whilſt they diuide the ſpoyles, and pray of powre,

And none at all reſpect the publique good:

Thoſe hands that guard and get vs what is our,

The Solderie, ingag’d to vent their bloud,

In worſe caſe ſeeme then Pallas old-growne Moyle

Th’ Athenians foſtred at their publique coſt;

For theſe poore ſoules conſum’d with tedious toile

Remayne neglected, hauing done their moſt.

And nothing ſhall bring home of all theſe wars,

But emptie age and bodies chargd with skarres.

  Ch. Philotas, all this publique care I feare

Is but ſome priuat touch of your diſlike.

Who ſeeing your owne deſignes not ſtand to ſquare

With your deſires, no others courſes like.

The griefe you take things are not ordered well,

Is that you feele your ſelfe I feare not well.

But when your fortunes ſhall ſtand paralel

With thoſe you enuy now, all will be well.

For you great men, I ſee are neuer more

Your end attain’d, the ſame you were before.

You with a finger can point out the ſtaynes
Of others errors now, and now condem

The traine of ſtate, whilſt your deſire remaines

without. But once got in you iumpe with them,

And interleague ye with iniquity,

And with a like neglect do temporize

And onley ſerue your owne commodity:

Your fortune then viewes things with other eyes.

For either greatneſſe doth transforme the hart

In t’other ſhapes of thoughts or certaynly

This vulgar honeſty doth dwell apart

From powre, and is ſome priuate quallity.

Or rather thoſe faire parts which we eſteeme

In ſuch as you, are not the ſame they ſeeme,

You double with your ſelues or els with vs.

And therefore now Philotas euen as good

T’imbrace the times, as ſwell and do no good.

  Ph. Alas Chaliſthenes you haue not layde

True leuell to my nature, but are wide

From what I am within: all you haue ſayde

Shall neuer make me of another ſide

Then that I am, and I do skorne to clyme

By ſhaking hands with this vnworthy time.

  Ch. The time, Philotas then will break thy neck.

  Ph. They dare not, friend, my faith will keepe my neck,

My ſeruice to the ſtate hath cauſioned

So ſurely for myne honor, as it ſhall

Make good the place my deedes haue purchaſed

With daunger, in the loue, and harts of all,

 Cha. Thoſe ſeruices, will ſerue as waights to charge

And preſſe you vnto death, if your foot faile

neuer ſo little vnderneath your charge

And will be deem’d, donne, for your owne auayle.

And who haue ſpirits to do the greateſt good,

May do moſt hurt if they remaine not good.

 Ph. Tuſh. They cannot want my ſeruice in the ſtate.

 Ch. Theſe times want not men to ſupply the ſtate.

 Ph. I feare not whilſt Parmenios forces ſtand.

 Chal. Water far off quenches not fire neere hand.

You may be faire diſpatcht, ere he can heare

Or if he heard, before he could be here.

And therefore doe not build vpon ſuch ſand,

It will deceiue your hopes, when all is doone

For though you were the minion of the land

If you breake out, be ſure you are vndonne.

When running with the current of the State,

Were you the weakeſt man of men aliue,

And in conuentions and in counſell ſate,

And did but ſleepe or nod, yet ſhall you thriue.

Theſe motiue ſpirits are neuer fit to riſe,

And tis a danger to be held ſo wiſe.

 Phil. What call you running with the ſtate; ſhall I

Combine with thoſe that do abuſe the ſtate?

Whoſe want of iudgement, wit and honeſty,

I am aſham’d to ſee, and ſeeing hate.

  Ch. Tuſh, tuſh, my Lord thinke not of what were fit:

The world is gouern’d more by forme, then witt.

He that will fret at Lords, and at the raine,

Is but a foole, and grieues himſelfe in vaine.

Cannot you great men ſuffer others to

Haue part in rule, but muſt haue all to do.

Now good my Lord conforme you to the reſt,

Let not your wings be greater then your neſt.

 Ph. ſolus. See how theſe vaine diſcourſiue Booke-men talke,

Out of thoſe ſhadowes of their airie powres,

And do not ſee how much they muſt defalke

Of their accounts, to make them gree with ours.

They little know to what neceſſities,

Our courſes ſtand allied, or how we are

Ingag’d in reputation other-wiſe

To be our ſelues in our particulare.

They thinke we can command our harts to lye.

Out of their place: and ſtill they preach to vs.

Pack-bearing Patience, that baſe property,

And ſilly gift of th’all enduring Aſs.

But let them talke their fill, it is but wind,

I muſt ſayle by the compaſſe of my minde,

Enters a Meſſenger.

My lord, the King calls for you, come my Lord away,

 Phi. Well then I know there’s ſome new ſtratagem

In hand, to be conſulted on to day.

That I am ſent for, with ſuch ſpeede, to him,

Whoſe youth and fortune cannot brooke delay.

But here’s a Sutor ſtandes t’impeach my haſt,

I would I had gone vp the priuie way:

Whereby we eſcape th’attending multitude,

Though I confeſſe, that in humanity

Tis better to deny, then to delude.

Enters Cebalinus.

My Lord Philotas I am come with news

Of great importance, that concerns vs all,

And well hath my good fortune met with you:

Who beſt can heare, and beſt diſcharge my care.

 Phi. Say what it is and pray-thee friend be briefe.

 Ceb. The caſe requires your patience, good my lord,

And therefore I muſt craue your eare a while.

  Phi. I cannot now be long from Alexander.

  Ceb. Nor Alexander will be long with vs,

Vnles you heare, and therefore know, the newes

I bring, concernes his life; and this it is:

There is one Dymnus here within the campe,

Whoſe low eſtate, and high affections,

Seeme to haue thruſt him int’outragious wayes.

This man, affecting one Nichomachus,

A youth, my brother, whom one day h’allures

Int’a Temple, where being both alone,

He breakes out in this ſort: Nichomacus

ſweet louely youth, ah, ſhould I not impart

To thee the deepeſt ſecrets of my hart,

My hart that hath no locke ſhut againſt thee,            

Would let it out ſometimes vnwares of me.

But as it iſſues from my faithfull loue,

So cloſe it vp in thine, and keepe it faſt:

Sweare to be ſecret, deare Nichomacus.

Sweare by the ſacred God-head of this place

To keepe my counſell, and I will reueale

A matter of the greateſt conſequence

That euer man imparted to his friend.

Youth and deſire drawne with a loue to know,

Swore to be ſecret, and to keepe it cloſe

Then Dymnus tels him, that within three dayes

There ſhould b’effected a conſpiracie

On Alexanders perſon, by his meanes

And diuers more of the Nobillitie.

To free their labours, and redeeme them home,

Which when Nichomacus my brother heard:

Is this your tale ſaith he? O God forbid

Mine oath ſhould tie my tongue to keepe in this.

This ougly ſinne of treaſon, which to tell

Mine oath compels me, faith againſt my faith

Muſt not be kept. My falſhood here is truth

And I muſt tell. Friend or friend not, Ile tell.

Dymnus amaz’d, hearing beyond conceipt

The ſelfe-willd youth vow to reueale their plot:

Stands ſtaring on him, drawing back his breath,

Or els his breath confounded with his thoughts

Buſied with death and horror, could not worke,

Not hauing leaſure now to thinke what was,

But what would be, his feares were runne before,

And at misfortune ere ſhe came to him.

At length yet, when his reaſon had reduc’d

His flying thoughts backe to ſome certaine ſtand,

Perceiuing yet ſome diſtance was betwixt

Death and his feares, which gaue him time to worke,

With his returning ſpirits he drew his ſword,

Puts it t’his owne then to my brothers throate,

Then laies it down, then wrings his hands, thē kneeles,

Then ſtedfaſt looks, then takes him in his armes,

Weeps on his necke, no word, but, O wilt thou?

Wilt thou, be the deſtruction of vs all?

And finding no relenting in the youth.

His miſeries grew furious, and againe

He takes his ſword, and ſweares to ſacrifice

To ſilence and their cauſe, his deareſt bloud.

The boy amaz’d, ſeeing no other way,

Was faine to vow, and promiſe ſecrecie;

And as if woon t’allow and take that part,

Prayes him tell, who were his complices.

Which, though perplext with griefe for what was done,

Yet thinking now t’haue gain’d him to his ſide,

Dymnus replies: No worſe than Loceus,

Demetrius of the priuie Chamber, and

Nicanor, Amyntas, and Archelopis,

Drocenus, Aphebetus, Leuculaus,

ſhall be th’aſſociats of Nichomacus.

This when my brother once had vnderſtood,

And after much adoe had got away,

He comes, and tels me all the whole diſcourſe:

Which here I haue related vnto you,

And here will I attend t’auouch the ſame,

Or bring my brother to confirme as much.

Whom now I left behinde, leſt the conſpirators

Seeing him here vnuſing to this place,

Suſpecting t’b’appeach’d, might ſhifts away.

 Phil. Well fellow, I haue heard thy ſtrange report,

And will finde time t’acquaint the King therewith.

Scena Secvnda.

Antigona and Thais

WHat can a free eſtate affoord me more

Than my incaptiu’d fortune doth allow?

Was I belou’d, inrich’d, and grac’d before?

Am I not lou’d, inrich’d, and graced now?

 Tha. Yea, but before thou wert a kings delight.

 Ant. I might be his, although he was not mine.

  Tha. His greatnes made thee greater in mens ſight.

  Ant. More great perhapps without, but not within:

My loue was then aboue me: I am now

Aboue my loue. Darius then had thouſands more

Philotas hath but me as I do know.

Nor none els will he haue, and ſo he ſwore.

  Tha. Nay, then you may belieue him, if he ſwore.

Alas, poore ſoule, ſhe neuer came to know

Her liberty, nor louers periuries.

 Ant. Stand I not better with a meaner loue,

That is alone to mee, than with theſe powres,

Who out of all proportion muſt b’aboue

And haue vs theirs, but they will not be ours.

And Thais although thou be a Grecian,

And I a Perſian, do not envie mee.

That I embrace the onely gallant man

Perſia, or Greece, or all the world can ſee.

Thou, who art intertein’d and grac’d by all

The flowre of honour els, do not diſpiſe.

That vnto me, poore captiue, ſhould befall

So great a grace in ſuch a worthies eyes.

 Tha.  Antigona, I enuy not thy loue,

But thinke thee bleſt t’enioy him in that ſort.

But tell me truly, Didſt thou euer proue

Whether he lou’d in earneſt or in ſporte

 Ant.  Thais, let m’a little glory in my grace,

Out of the paſſion of the ioy I feele

And tell the’a ſecret; but in any caſe,

As y’are a woman, do not it reueile.

One day, as I was ſitting all alone,

In comes Philotas from a victory

All bloud and duſt, yet iolly hauing wonne

The glory of the day moſt gallantly.

And warm’d with honour of his good Succeſſe,

Relates to me the dangers he was in:

Whereat I wondring, blam’d his forwardnes.

Faith wench, ſayes he, thus muſt we fight, toyle, win.

To make that young-man proud: thus is he borne:

Vpon the wings of our deſerts; our bloud

Sets him aboue himſelfe, and makes him skorne,

His owne, his countrey, and the Authors of his good.

My father was the firſt that out from Greece

Shewd him the way of Aſia, ſet him on

And by his proiect raisd the greateſt peece

Of this proud worke which now he treads vpon.

Parmenio without Alexander much hath wrought,

Without Parmenio, Alexander hath done nought.

But let him vſe his fortune whilſt he may,

Times haue their change, we muſt not ſtill be lead.

And ſweet Antigona thou mayſt one day

Yet, bleſſe the houre t’haue knowne Philotas bed.

Wherewith he ſweetly kiſt me, and now deeme,

If that ſo great, ſo wiſe, ſo rare a man,

Would, if he held me not in deare eſteeme

Haue vttred this t’a captiue Perſian.

But Thais I may no longer ſtay, for feare

My lord returne, and find me not within,

Whoſe eyes yet neuer ſaw me any where

But in his chamber, where I ſhould haue bene.

And therefore Thais farewell.

  Th. Fare well Antigona.

Now haue I that, which I deſired long

Layd in my lap by this fond woman here,

And meanes t’auenge me of a ſecret wrong

That doth concerne my reputation nere.

This gallant man, whom this foole in this wiſe

Vants to be hers, I muſt confeſſe t’haue lou’d,

And vs’d all th’engins of theſe conquering eyes,

Affections in his hie-built heart t’haue mou’d

Yet neuer could: for what my labour ſeekes

I ſee is loſt vpon vaine ignorance.

Whilſt he that is the glory of the Greekes

Virtues vpholder, honours countenance,

Out of this garniſh of his worthy parts

Is fall’n vpon this fooliſh Perſian,

To whom his ſecrets grauely he imparts,

Which ſhe as wiſely keepe and gouerne can:

Tis ſtrange to ſee the humour of theſe men,

Theſe great aſpiring ſpirits, that ſhould be wiſe

We women ſhall know all: for now and then

Out of the humour of their iollities

The ſmoake of their ambition muſt haue vent,

And out it comes what racks ſhould not reuaile,

For this her humour hath ſo much of wind,

That it will burſt it ſelfe if too cloſe pent,

And none more fit than vs their wiſedomes find,

Who will for loue or want of wit conceale.

For being the nature of great ſpirits, to loue

To be where they may be moſt eminent.

And rating of themſelues ſo farre aboue

Vs in conceit, with whom they do frequent,

Imagin how we wonder and eſteeme

All that they do or ſay; which makes them ſtriue

To make our admiration more extreame:

Which they ſuppoſe they cannot, leſſe they giue

Notice of their extreme and higheſt thoughts.

And then the opinion, that we loue them too,

Begets a confidence of ſecrecie,

Whereby what euer they intend to doo,

We ſhall be ſure to know it preſently.

 But faith, I ſcorne that ſuch a one as ſhee,

A ſilly wittied wench, ſhould haue this grace

To be preferr’d and honor’d before me,

Hauing but only beautie, and a face.

I that was euer courted by the Great

And gallant’ſt Peeres and Princes of the Eaſt,

Whom Alexander in the greateſt ſtate           

The earth did euer ſee him, made his gueſt.

There where this tongue obtained for her merit

Eternity of Fame: there where theſe hands

Did write in fire the glory of my ſpirit,

And ſet a trophey that for euer ſtands.

Thais action with the Grecian acts ſhal be

Inregiſtred alike. Thais, ſhe that fir’d

The ſtatelieſt palace th’ earth did euer ſee,

Darius houſe that to the clouds aſpir’d,

She is put backe behinde Antigona,

  But ſoone Philotas ſhall his error ſee,

Who thinkes that beautie beſt, mens paſſions fits,

For that they vſe our bodies, not our wittes:

And vnto Craterus will I preſently,

And him acquaint with all this whole diſcourſe,

Who I am ſure will take it well of vs,

For theſe great minions, who with enuious eye

Looke on each others greatneſſe, will be glad,

In ſuch a caſe of this importancie,

To haue th’aduantage that may here be had.

CHORVS.

WE as the Chorus of the vulgar, ſtand

Spectators heere, to ſee theſe great men play

Their parts both of obedience and command,

And cenſure all they doo, and all they ſay.

For though we be eſteemd but ignorant,

Yet are we capable of truth, and know

Where they do well, and where their actions want

The grace that makes them proue the beſt in ſhow.

And though we know not what they do within,

Where they attire, their myſteries of ſtate :

Yet know we by th’euents, what plottes haue beene,

And how they all without do perſonate,

  We ſee who well a meaner part became,               

  Faile in a greater, and diſgrace the ſame.

We ſee ſome worthy of aduancement deem’d,

Saue when they haue it: ſome againe haue got

Good reputation, and beene well eſteem’d

In place of greatneſſe, which before were not.

  We ſee affliction act a better ſcene,

 Than proſperous fortune which hath marr’d it cleane.

We ſee that all which we haue praiſd in ſome,

Haue onely beene their fortune, not deſart:

Some warre haue grac’d, whom peace doth ill become:

And luſtfull eaſe hath blemiſht all their part.

We ſee Philotas acts his goodneſſe ill,

And makes his paſſions to report of him

Worſe than he is: and we do feare he will

Bring his free nature to b’intrapt by them.

For ſure there is ſome engin cloſely laide

Againſt his grace and greatneſſe with the King:

And that unleſſe his humors proue more ſtaide,

We ſoone ſhall ſee his vtter ruining.

  And his affliction our compaſſion drawes,

 Which ſtill lookes on mens fortunes, not the cauſe,

Actvs 2. Scena I.

Alexander, Epheſtion, Craterus.

Alexander.

EPheſtion, thou doeſt Alexander loue

Craterus, thou the King: yet both you meete

In one ſelfe point of loyaltie and loue,

And both I finde like carefull, like diſcreet.

Therefore my faithfulſt Counſellours to you

I muſt a weightie accident impart,

Which lies ſo heauie, as I tell you true

I finde the burden much t’oppreſſe my hart.

  Ingratitude and ſtubburne carriage,

In one of whom my loue deſeru’d reſpect,

Is that which moues my paſſion into rage,

And is a thing I ought not to neglect.

  You ſee how I Philotas raiſed haue

Aboue his ranke, his Peeres, beyond his terme:

You ſee the place, the offices I gaue,

As th’earneſt of my loue to binde his firme.

But all, hee deeming rather his deſares,

Than the effects of my grace any way,

Beginnes to play moſt peremptorie parts,

As fitter to controule than to obay.

And I haue been inform’d, he foſters too,

The faction of that home-bent cowardize,

That would run backe from glory, and vndoo

All the whole wonder of our enterprize,

And one day to our ſelfe preſumes to write,

(Seeming our ſtile and title to obrayd,

Which th’oracles themeſelues held requiſite

And which not I, but men on me haue laid)

And ſayd he pitied thoſe who vnder him ſhould liue.

Who held himſelfe the ſonne of Iupiter.

Alas good man, as though what breath could giue,

Could make mine owne thoughts other than they are.

I that am Arbiter betwix my hart

And their opinion, know how it ſtands within,

And finde that my infirmities take part,

Of that ſame frailtie other men liue in.

And yet, what if I were diſpos’d to winke,

At th’entertain’d opinion ſpred ſo far.

And rather was content the world ſhould thinke.

Vs other than we are, than what we are.

In doing which, I know I am not gone

Beyond example, ſeeing that Maieſtie

Needs all the props of admiration

That may be got, to beare it vp on hye.

And much more mine, which but eu’n now begun

By miracles of fortune, and our worth,

Needs all the complements to reſt vpon

That reu’rence and opinion can bring forth,

Which this wiſe man conceiues not, and yet takes:

Vpon him to inſtruct vs what to do.

But theſe are but the floriſhes he makes,

Of greater malice he is bent vnto:

For ſure, methinks, I view within his face,

The map of change and innouacion:

I ſee his pride contented with no place,

Vnlesse it be the throne I ſit vpon.

 Ephe. Had I not heard this from your ſacred tongue,

Dear Souereigne, I would neuer haue beleeued

Philotas folly would haue done that wrong

T’ his owne worth and th’honours he receiued,

And yet me thought of late his carriage.

In ſuch exceeding pompe and gallantry,

And ſuch a world of followers, did preſage

That he affected popularity.

Eſpecially, ſince for his ſeruice done.

He was adiudg’d to haue the ſecond place

In honour with Antigona, which wonne,

To ſome th’opinion to be high in grace.

Then his laſt action leading the right winge,

And th’ ouerthrow he gaue, might happ inlarge

Th’opinion of himſelfe, conſidering,

Th’eſpeciall grace and honour of his charge.

Whereby perhaps in rating his owne worth,

His pride might vnder-value that great grace:

From whence it grew, and that which put him forth.

And made his fortune ſuting to the place.

But yet I thinke he is not ſo vnwiſe,

Although his fortune, youth and iollity.

Makes him thus mad, as he will enterprize

Ought againſt courſe, his faith, and loyalty.

And therefore, if your Grace did but withdraw,

Thoſe beames of fauour, which doo daze his witts:

He would be ſoone reduc’d t’his rank of awe.

And know himſelfe, and beare him as befits.

  Alex. Withdraw our grace,& how can that be donne.

Without ſome ſulliuation to inſue.   

Can he be ſafe brought in, being ſo far gone,

I hold it not. Say Craterus what thinke you.

 Cra. Souereigne, I know the man: I finde his ſpirit,

And malice ſhall not make me I proteſt.  

Speake other than I knoe his pride doth merit,

And what I ſpeake, is for you intereſt.

Which long ere this I would haue vttered,

But that I fear’d your Maieſtie would take,

That from ſome priuate grudge it rather bred,

Than out of care, for your deare ſiſters ſake.

Or rather, that I ſought to croſſe your grace,

Or, to confine your fauour within boundes,

And finding him to holde ſo high a place:

In that diuine conceit which ours confounds,

I thought the ſafeſt way to let it reſt,

In hope, that time ſome paſſage open would:

To let in thoſe cleere look: into that breſt

That doth but malice and confuſion hold.

And now I ſee you haue diſeem’d the man,

Whome I proteſt I hold moſt dangerous.

And that you ought, with all the ſpeed you can

Worke to repreſſe a ſpirit ſo mutinous:

For eu’n already he is ſwolne ſo high,

That his affections ouer-flowe the brime

Of his owne powres, not able to deny

Paſſage vnto the thoughts that gouerne him.

For but euen now I heard a ſtrange report

Of ſpeeches he ſhould vſe t’his Curtizan:

Vanting that he had done, and in what ſort,

He labourd to aduance that proud yong man.

(So terming of your ſacred maieſty)

With other ſuch extrauagant diſcourſe:

Whereof we ſhall attaine more certainty,

I doubt not ſhortly, and diſcry his courſe.         

Meane while, about your perſon (I aduiſe)

Your Grace ſhould call a more ſufficient guard,

And on his actions ſet ſuch wary eies,

As may thereof take ſpeciall good regard;

And note what perſons chiefly he frequents,

And who to him haue the moſt free acceſſe,

How he beſtowes his time, where he preſents

The large reuenue of his bounteouſneſſe.

And for his wench that lies betwixt his armes,

And knowes his heart, I will about with her,

She ſhal be wrought t’apply her vſuall charmes,

And I will make her my diſcouerer.

  Alex. This counſell Craterus we do well allow,

And giue thee many thanks for thy great care:

But yet we muſt beare faire, leſt he ſhould know

That we ſuſpect what his affections are:

For that you ſee he holds a ſide of powre,

Which might perhaps call vp ſome mutinie.

His father, old Parmenio at this howre,

Rules Medea with no leſſer powres than I;

Himſelfe, you ſee, gallantly followed,

Holds next to vs a ſpeciall gouernment;

Cænus, that with his Siſter married,

Hath vnder him againe commandement:

Amintas and Symanus his deare friends,

With both their honourable offices;

And then the priuate traine that on them tendes,

With all particular dependences,

Are motiues to aduiſe vs how to deale.

 Crat. Your Grace ſaies true, but yet theſe clouds of ſmooke

Vaniſh before the ſun of that reſpect    

Whereon mens long-inurd affections looke

With ſuch a natiue zeale, and ſo affect:

As that the vaine and ſhallow practiſes

Of no ſuch giddy traytor (if the thing,

Be tooke in time with due aduiſedneſſe:

Shall the leaſt ſhew of any fearing bring.

 Alex.   Well then to thee deare Craterus I refer

Th’eſpeciall care of this great buſines.

Scena Secvnda. 

Philotas,  Ceballinus.  Seruus.

Ceballinus.

MY lord, I here haue long attendance made,

Expecting to be call’d t’auouch my newes.

 Phi.  In troth my friend I haue not found the king

At any leaſure yet to heare the ſame.

  Ceb.  No, not at leaſure to prevent his death?

And is the matter of no more import?

I’l trie another. Yet me thinks ſuch men

As are the eyes and eares of princes, ſhould,

Not weigh ſo light ſuch an intelligence:

 Ser. My lord the ſumme you willed me to giue

The captaine that did viſit you to day:

To tell you plaine, your coffers yeeld it not,

 Phi.  How if they yeeld it not, haue I not then,

Apparell, plate iewells; why ſel them:

And go your way diſpatch and giue it him.

Me thinks I find the king much chaungd of late,

And vnto me his graces not ſo great³.

Although they ſeeme in ſhow all of one rate,

Yet by the touch I find them counterfeit:

For when I ſpeake, although I haue his eare

Yet do I ſee his mind is other where.

And when he ſpeakes to me I ſee he ſtriues,

To giue a coulor vnto what is not,

For he muſt thinke that we whoſe ſtates, whoſe liues.

Depend vpon his grace learne not by rote,

T’obſerue his actions, and to know his trym,

And though indeed Princes be manifold,

Yet haue they ſtill ſuch eyes to waite on them.

As are to piercing that they can beholde.

And penetrate the inwards of the hart,

That no deuice can ſet ſo cloſe a dore,

Betwixt their ſhewes and thoughtes, but that theirs art:

Of ſhadowing it, makes it appeare the more.

But many, malicing my ſtate of grace,

I know do worke, with all the power they haue

Vpon that eaſie nature, to diſplace

My fortunes, and my actions to depraue:

And though I know they ſeeke t’incloſe him in,

And faine would locke him vp and chamber him:

Yet will I neuer ſtoope, and ſeeke to win

My way by them, that came not in by them.

And skorne to ſtand on any other feet

Then theſe of mine owne worth; and what my plaine

And open actions cannot fairely get,

Baſeneſſe and ſmoothing them, ſhall neuer gaine.

And yet, I know my preſence and acceſſe,

Cleeres all theſe miſts which they haue raisd before:

Though with my back ſtreight turnes that happineſſe,

And they againe blow vp as much or more;

 Thus do we roule the ſtone of our owne toyle,

  And men ſuppoſe our hell, a heauen the while.

Scena 3.

Craterus. Antigona.

Antigona, there is no remedie,

You needs muſt iuſtifie the ſpeech you held,

With Thais, who will your conf’rence verifie,

And therefore now it can not be conceald.

  Ant.   O, my good lord, I pray you vrge me not,

Thais only of a cunning enuious wit,

Scorning a ſtranger ſhould haue ſuch a lott,

Hath out of her inuention forged it.    

 Crat. Why then, ſhall rackes and tortures force thee ſhow,

Both this and other matters which we know.

Thinke therefore, if t’were not a wiſer part,

T’accept ofreſt, rewards, preferment, grace,

And being perhaps, ſo beautious as thou art,

Of faire election for a neerer place,

To tell the truth, than to be obſtinate,

And fall with the misfortune of a man.

Who, in his dangerous and concuſſed ſtate,

No good to thee but ruine render can.

Reſolute thee of this choyce, and let me know

Thy minde at full, at my returning back.

 Ant. What ſhall I doo, ſhall I betray my loue,

Or die diſgrac’d? what do I make a doubt

Betray my Loue? O heauenly pow’rs aboue

Forbid that ſuch a thought ſhould iſſue out

Of this confuſed breſt: nay rather firſt

Let tortures, death, and horror do their worſt.

But out alas, this inconſiderate tongue,

Without my hearts conſent and priuitie,

Hath done already this vnwilling wrong,

And now it is no wiſdome to deny.

No wiſdome to denie! Yes, yes, that tongue

That thus hath beene the traitour to my hart,

Shall either powrefully redeeme that wrong,

Or neuer more ſhall words of breath impart,

Yet, what can my deniall profit him,

Whom they perhaps, whether I tell or not,

Are purpos’d, vpon matters know’n to them,

To ruinate on ſome diſcouered plot.

Let them do what they will. Let not thy hart

Seeme to be acceſſaire in a thought,

To giue the leaſt aduantage of thy part,

To haue a part of ſhame in what is wrought.

O this were well, if that my dangers could

Redeeme his perill, and his grace reſtore,

For which, I vow, my life I render would,

If this poore life could ſatisfie therefore.

But tis not for thy honour to forſake

Thy Loue for death, that lou’d thee in this fort,

Alas, what notice will the world take

Of ſuch reſpects in women of my ſort.

This act may yet put on ſo faire a cote

Vpon my ſoule profeſſion, as it may

Not bluſh t’appeare with thoſe of cleaneſt note,

And haue as hie a place with fame as they.

What do I talke of fame? do I not ſee

This faction of my fleſh, my feares, my youth

Already entred, and haue bent at me,

The ioyes of life, to batter downe my truth,

O my ſubdued thoughts what haue you done.

To let in feare and falſhood to my hart,

Whom though they haue ſurprizd they haue not won,

For ſtill my loue ſhall hold the deareſt part.

  Crat. Antigona, What, are you yet reſolu’d?

  Ant. Reſolu’d, my Lord t’indure all miſery.

  Crat. And ſo be ſure you ſhall if that b’your choice.

  Ant What will you haue me doo my Lord, I am

Content to ſay what you will haue me ſay.

 Crat. Then come go with me to Alexander.

Chorvs.

How doſt thou weare, and weary out thy dayes,

Reſtles ambition neuer at an end:

Whoſe trauails no herculean pillor ſtayes,

But ſtill beyond thy rest thy labors tend.

Aboue good fortune thou thy hopes do’st raiſe,

Still climing, and yet neuer canst aſcend:

  For when thou haſt attaind vnto the top,

 Of thy deſires thou haſt not yet got vp.

That height of fortune either ïs contrould.

By ſome more powrefull ouerlooking eie:

(That doth the fulneſſe of thy grace withhold)

Or counter-checkt with ſome concurrencie:

That it doth coſt farre more ado to hold,

The higth attaind, then was to get ſo hie.

  Where ſtand thou canſt not, but with carefull toyle,

  Now looſe thy hold without thy vtter ſpoile.

There doſt thou ſtruggle with thine owne diſtrust,

And others iealouſies, their counterplot:

Against ſome vnderworking pride that must,

Supplanted be, or els thou ſtandeſt not:

There wrong is paid with wrong, and he that thruſt:

Downe others, comes himſelfe to haue that lot.

  The ſame concuſſion doth afflict his breſt.

  That others ſhooke, oppreſſion is oppreſt

That either happines dwells not ſo hie,

Or els aboue. whereto pride cannot riſe:

And that the hy’ſt of means felicity,

But in the region of affliction lies:

And that we clime but vp to miſery,

High fortunes are but high calamities,

 It is not in that Sphere, where peace doth moue,

  Reſt dwels below it, happines aboue.

For in this hight of fortune are imbred,

Thoſe thundring fragors that affright the earth,

From thence haue all diſtempratures their head:

That brings forth deſolation, famine, dearth,

There certaine order is diſordered:

And there it is confuſion hath her birth.

  It is that high of fortune doth vndoo,

 Both her owne quietnes and others too.

Actvs Tertivs.

Alexander. Metron Ceballinus, Craterus.

Perdiccas. Epheſtion.

Come, Metron ſay of whom haſt thou receiued,

Th’ intelligence of this conſpiracie:

Contriud againſt our perſon, as thou ſayſt,

By Dymnus and ſome other of the Campe,

Is’t not ſome vaine report borne without cauſe,

That enuie or imagination drawes

From priuate ends to breed a publike feare.

T’amuze the world with things that neuer were,

  Met. Here may it pleaſe your highnes is the man,

One Ceballinus that brought me the newes.

  Ceb.O Alexander I haue ſau’d thy life.

I am the man that haue reueild their plot.

  Alex.And how cam’ſt thou to be informd thereof,

Ceb. By mine owne brother, one Nichomacus,

Whom Dymnus, chiefe of the conſpirators,

Acquainted with the whole of their intents,

  Alex. How long ſince is it, this was told to thee?

Ceb.About ſome three dayes, my Soueraigne Lord.

Alex. What, three dayes ſince? and haſt thou ſo long kept

The thing cōceald from vs, being of that weight. 

Guard, take and lay him preſently in hold:

  Ceb.O, may it pleaſe your grace I did not keepe,

The thing conceald one houre, but preſently,

Ran to acquaint Philotas therewithall,

Suppoſing him a man, ſo nere in place,

Would beſt reſpect a caſe that toucht ſo neare

And on him haue I waited theſe two dayes.

Expecting t’haue bene brought vnto your Grace,

And ſeeing him weigh it light, pretending that

Your Graces leaſure ſeru’d not fit to heare.

I, to the maiſter of your armory,

Addreſt my ſelfe forthwith, to Metron here,

Who, without making any more delay,

Preſt in vnto your grace being in your bath,

Locking me vp the while in th’armorie,

And all what I could ſhew reuealed hath.

  Alex.  If this be ſo then, fellow, I confeſſe,

Thy loyall care of vs was more than theirs,

Who had more reaſon theirs ſhould haue bin more,

Cauſe Dymnus to be preſently brought forth,

And call Philotas ſtraight, who now I ſee

Hath not deceiu’d me, in deceiuing me,

Who would haue thought one whom I held ſo nere.

Would from my ſafetie haue bene ſo farre off,

When moſt it ſhould and ought import his care,

And wherein his allegeance might make proofe

Of thoſe effects my fauours had deſeru’d,

And ought t’haue claym’d more duly at his hands

Then any of the reſt. But thus w’are ſeru’d,

When priuate grace out of proportion ſtands

And that we call vp men from of below:

From th’Element of baſer property,

And ſet them where they may behold and know

The way of might and worke of maieſtie.

Where ſe’ing thoſe rayes, which being ſent far off,

Reflect a heat of wonder and reſpect,

To ſaile nere hand, and not to ſhew that proofe,

(The obiect onely working that effect,)

Thinke ſeeing themſelues (though by our fauour) ſet.

Within the ſelfe ſame orbe of rule with vs,

Their light would ſhine alone if ours were ſet,

And ſo preſume t’obſcure or ſhadow vs.

But he ſhall know although his neerenes hath,

Not felt our heat, that we can burne him too.

And grace that ſhines can kindle vnto wrath:

And Alexander and the king are two.

But heere they bring vs Dymnus in whoſe face,

I ſee is gilt, diſpaire, horror and death.

 Guar. Yea death indeed, for ere he could b’attachd.

He ſtab’d himſelfe ſo deadly to the hart,

As tis impoſſible that he ſhould liue.

 Alex. Say Dymnus what haue I deſeru’d of thee:

That thou ſhould’ſt thinke worthier to be thy king,

Philotas then our ſelfe. Hold hold he ſinkes:

Guard keepe him vp get him to anſwere vs.

  Guar. H’hath ſpoke his laſt h’wil neuer answer more

Alex. Sorry I am for that, for now hath death,

Shut vs cleene out from knowing him within:

And lockt vp in his breſt all th’others harts,

But yet this deed argues the truth in groſſe,

Though we be batr’d it in particular.

Philotas? are you come looke here this man,

This Ceballinus ſhould haue ſuffred death:

Could it but haue been prou’d he had conceald

Th’intended treaſon from vs theſe two dayes;

Wherewith he ſayes he ſtreight acquainted thee:

Thinke the more nere thou art about our ſelfe,

The greater is the ſhame of thine offence.

And which had bene leſſe foule in him than thee.

 Phil.  Renouned Prince, for that my hart is cleare,

Amazement cannot ouercaſt my face,

And I muſt boldly with th’aſſured cheare,

Of my vnguilty conſcience tel your grace:

That this offence (thus hapning) was not made

By any the leaſt thought of ill in mee:

And that the keeping of it vnbewraid,

Was, that I held the rumour vaine to be.

Conſidering ſome, who were accusd were knowne

Your ancient and moſt loyall ſeruitours:

And ſuch, as rather would let out their owne:

Heart bloud, I know, than once indanger yours,

And for me then, vpon no certaine note,

But ou the brabbel of two wanton youthes,

T’haue tolde an idle tale, that would haue wrought,

In you diſtruſt, and wrong to others trueths,

And to no end, but only to haue made,

My ſelfe a ſcorne, and odious vnto all.

(For which I rather tooke the baite was laide:

Than els for any treachery at all.)

I muſt confeſſe, I thought the ſafeſt way,

To ſmoother it a while, to th’end I might:

If ſuch a thing could be, ſome proofs bewray,

That might yeeld probability of right.

Proteſting that mine owne vnſpotted thought

A like beliefe of others trueth did breed,

Iudging no impious wretch could haue been wrought

T’imagin ſuch a deteſtable deed.

And therefore, O dread Souereigne, do not way

Philotas faith by this his ouer-ſight,

But by his actions paſt, and only lay

Error t’his charge, not malice nor diſpight.

  Al. Well, lo thou haſt a fauourable iudge,

Whē though thou haſt not powre to cleere thy blame,

Yet hath he pow’r to pardon thee the ſame,

Which take not as thy right, but as his grace,

Since here the perſon alters not the caſe.

And here Philotas, I forgiue th’offence,

And to confirme the ſame, loe here’s my hand.

 Phi. O ſacred hand, the witneſſe of my life,

By thee I hold my ſafetie as ſecure,

As is my conſcience free from treacherie.

 Alex. Well, go t’your charge, & looke to our affaires,

For we to morrow purpoſe to remoue.    Exit.

  Alex. In troth I know not what to iudge herein,

Me thinks the man ſeemes ſurely cleare in this,

How euer otherwiſe his hopes haue beene,

Tranſported by his vnaduiſedneſſe:

It can not be, a guiltie conſcience ſhould

Put on ſo ſure a brow; or els by arte

His looks ſtand newtrall, ſeeming not to hold

Reſpondencie of int’reſt with his hart.

Sure, for my part, he hath diſſolu’d the knot

Of my ſuſpition, with ſo cleere a hand,

As that I thinke in this (what euer plot

Of miſchiefe it may be) he hath no hand

  Crat. My lord, the greater confidence he ſhewes,

Who is ſuſpected, ſhould be fear’d the more:

For danger from weake natures neuer growes,

Who muſt diſturbe the world, are built therefore.

 He more is to be feard that nothing feares,

 And malice most effects, that least appeares.

Preſumption of mens pow’re as well may breed,

Aſſuredneſſe, as innocencie may:

And miſchiefe ſeldome but by truſt doth ſpeed,

Who kings betray, firſt their beleefe betray.

I would your Grace had firſt conferr’d with us

Since you would needs ſuch clemency haue ſhownes

That we might yet but haue aduis’d you thus,

That he his danger neuer might haue knowne.

  In faules wherein an after-shame will liue.

  Tis better to conceale, than to forgiue.

For who are brought vnto the block of death,

Thinke rather on the perill they haue paſt:

Than on the grace which hath preſerud their breath,

And more their ſuffrings than their mercie taſte,

He now to plot your danger ſtill may liue.

But you his guilt not alwayes to forgiue.

 Know, that a man ſo ſwoll’n with diſcontent,

No grace can cure, nor pardon can reſtore:

He knowes how thoſe who once haue mercie ſpent,

Can neuer hope to haue it any more.

 But ſay, that through remorſe he calmer proue,

Will great Parmenio ſo attended on,

With that braue Armye foſtred in his loue:

Be thankfull for this grace you do his ſonne?

Some benefits are odious, ſo is this:

Where men are ſtill aſhamed to confeſſe,

To haue ſo done, as to deſerue to die

And euer do deſire, that men ſhould geſſe,

They rather had receiu’d an iniury,

Than life; ſince life they know in ſuch a caſe,

May be reſtor’d in all, but not in grace.

 Perd. And for my part, my liege, I hold this minde

That ſure, he would not haue ſo much ſuppreſt,

The notice of a treaſon in that kinde,

Vnleſſe he were a partie with the reſt:

Can it be thought that great Parmenios ſonne,

The generall commander of the horſe:

The minion of the campe, the only one,

Of ſecret counſell, and of free recourſe

ſhould not in three dayes ſpace haue found the king,

At leaſure t’heare three words of that import:

Whilſt he himſelfe in idle lauiſhing,

Did thouſands ſpend t’aduance his owne report?

  Cra. And if he gaue no credit to the youth,

Why did he two dayes ſpace delay him then?

As if he had beleeu’d it for a truth,

To hinder his addreſſe to other men:

If he had held it but a vaine conceipt,

I pray why had he not diſmiſt him ſtreight?

Men in their priuate dangers may be ſtoute:

But in th’occaſions and the feares of kings,

We ought not to be credulous, but doubt,

The intimation of the vaineſt things.

  Alex.Well, howſoeuer, we will yet this night,

Diſport and banquet in vnuſuall wiſe,

That it may ſeeme, we weigh this practiſe light,

How euer heauy, here, within it lies.

  Kings may not know diſtruſt, and though they feare,

They muſt not take acquaintance of their feare.

Scena 2.

Antigona. Thais.

  Ant. O Y’are a ſecret counſell-keeper, Thais,

In troth I little thought you ſuch a one:

 Tha. And why, Antigona, what haue I done.

 Ant.  You know ful wel, your cōſcience you bewraies,

 Tha.  Alas, good ſoule, would you haue me conceale:

That, which your ſelfe could not but needs reueale?

Thinke you, another can be more to you,

In what concernes them not, than you can be,

Whom it imports? Will others holde them true:

When you proue falſe to your one ſecrecie?

But yet this is no wonder: for we ſee,

Wiſer than we do lay their heads to gage:

For riotous expences of their tongues

Although it be a propertie belongs.

Eſpecially to vs, and euery age,

Can ſhew ſtrange preſidents what we haue ben,

In caſes of the greateſt plots of men.

And tis the Scene on this worlds ſtage we play,

Whoſe reuolution we with men conuert,

And are to act our parts as well as they:

Though commonly the weakeſt, yet a-part.

 For this great motion of a State we ſee,

Doth turne on many wheeles, and ſome though ſmale

Do yet the greater moue, who in degree.

Stirre thoſe who likewiſe turne the great’ſt of all.

For though we are not wiſe, we ſee the wiſe

By vs are made, or make vs parties ſtill,

In actions of the greateſt qualities

That they can manage, be they good or ill.

  Ant. I can not tell: but you haue made me doo,

That which muſt euermore afflict my hart,

And if this be my wofull part, t’vndo,

my deareſt loue, would I had had no part.

How haue I ſilly woman ſifted bene

Examind, tryde, flattred, terrifide,

By Craterus, the cunningeſt of men,

That neuer leaft me till I had diſcride

What euer of Philotas I had knowne.

 Tha. What is that all? perhapps I haue thereby

Done thee more good than thou canſt apprehend.

 Ant. Such good I rather you ſhould get then I.

If that can be a good t’accuſe my friend.

  Th. Alas thy accuſation did but quote

The margin of ſome text of greater note.

  Ant.But that us more than thou or I can tell.

 Th. Yes yes Antigona, I know it well.

For be thou ſure that alwayes thoſe who ſeeke

T’attacke the Lyon, ſo prouide, that ſtill,

Their toyles be ſuch as that he ſhall not skape

To turne his rage on thoſe that wrought his ill.

Philotas neither was ſo ſtrong nor high

But malice ouerlookt him, and diſcride,

Where he lay weake, where was his vanity,

And built her counter mounts vpon that ſide.

In ſuch ſort, as they would be ſure to raze

His fortunes with the engins of diſgrace.

And now mayſt thou, perhaps, come great hereby,

And gracious with his greateſt enemie.

For ſuch men thinke, they haue no full ſucces:

Vnleſſe they likewiſe gaine the miſtreſſes,

Of thoſe they maſter, and ſucced the place,

And fortunes of their loues with equall grace

 Ant.Loues! Out alas! Loue ſuch a one as hee,

That ſeeks t’ vndoo my Loue, and in him me.

  Th. Tuſh loue his fortunes, loue his ſtate, loue his place,

What euer greatneſſe doth, it muſt haue grace.

 Ant. I weigh not greatneſſe, I muſt pleaſe mine eye.

  Th. Th’eye nothing fairer ſees than dignity.

  Ant. But what is dignitie without our loue?

  Th. If we haue that, we can not want our loue,

  Ant. Why, that giues but the out-ſide of delight:

The day time joy, what comfort hath the night?

  Th. If powre procure not that, what can it doo?

  Ant. I know not how that can b’attaind vnto.

  Th. Nor will I teach thee, if thou knowſt it not.

T’is vaine, I ſee, to learne an Aſian wit.   Exit.

 Ant. If this be that great wit that learned skill,

You Greekes profeſſe let me be fooliſh ſtill,

So I be faithfull. And now, being here alone,

Let me record the heauy notes of mone.

Scena 3.

Craterus. Epheſtion. Clitus. &c.

My lords, you ſee the flexible conceipt,

Of our indangered ſouereigne: and you know:

How much his perill, and Philotas pride,

Imports the State and vs; and therefore now,

We either muſt oppoſe againſt deceipt,

Or be vndone: for now hath time diſcride,

An open paſſage to his fartheſt ends,

From whence, if negligence now put vs back,

Returne we neuer can without our wrack.

  And, good my lords, ſince you conceiue as much,

And that we ſtand alike, make not me proſecute

The cauſe alone, as if it did but touch

Only my ſelfe; and that I did both breed

And vrge theſe doubts out of a priuate griefe.

Indeed, I know, I might with much more eaſe,

Sit ſtill like others; and if dangers come:

Might thinke to ſhift for one, as well as they,

But yet the faith, the duty, and reſpect

We owe both to our ſouereigne and the ſtate,

My lords, I hold, requires another care,

  Eph. My lord, aſſure you we will take a time

To vrge a ſtricter count of Dymnus death.

  Crat. My Lords I ſay vnles this be the time,

You will apply your phyſicke after death.

You ſee the king inuited hath this night

Philotas with the reſt, and entertaines

Him with as kinde an vſage to our ſight,

As euer: and you ſee the cunning ſtraines

Of ſweet inſinuation, that are vſd

T’allure the eare of grace with falſe reports,

So that all this will come to be excusd

With one remoue; one action quite tranſports

The kings affections ouer to his hopes,

And ſets him ſo beyond the due regard

Of his owne ſafetie, as one enterprize,

May ſerue their turne, and may vs all ſurprize.

  Cli.But now, ſince things thus of themſelues breake out         

We haue aduantage to preuent the worſt,

And eu’ry day will yeeld vs more, no doubt,

For they are ſau’d, that thus are warned firſt.

  Cra.So, my lord Clitus, are they likewiſe warn’d

T’accelerate their plot, being thus bewraide.

  Cli.But that they can not now, it is too late

For treaſon taken ere the birth, doth come

Abortiue, and her wombe is made her tombe

  Cra. You do not know how far it hath put forth

The force of malice, nor how far is ſpred

Already the contagion of this ill.

  Clit. Why then there may ſome one be tortured

Of thoſe whom Ceballinus hath reueald

Whereby the reſt may be diſcouered.

  Cra. That one muſt be Philotas from whoſe head

All this corruption flowes, take him, take all.

  Cli.Philotas is not nam’d, and therefore may

Perhaps not be acquainted with this plot.

   Cra.That, his concealing the plot bewrayes,

And if we do not caſt to finde him firſt.

His wit (be ſure) hath layd ſo good a ground,

As he will be the laſt that will be found.

  Cli. But if he be not found, then in this caſe,

We do him more, by iniuring his grace.

  Cra. If that he be not found t’haue dealt in this,

Yet this will force out ſome ſuch thoughts of his,

As will vndoo him: for you ſeldome ſee,

Such men araign’d that euer quitted be:

  Eph. Well my Lord Craterus we will moue his Grace

(Though it be late) before he take his reſt,

That ſome courſe may be taken in this caſe,

And God ordaine, it may be for the beſt.

Exeunt.

Chorvs.

See how theſe great men cloth their priuate hate,

In thoſe faire coulours of the publique good:

And to effect their ends pretend the ſtate,

As if the ſtate by their affections ſtood.

And armd with powre and princes iealoſies,

Will put the leaſt conceipt of diſcontent:

Into the greateſt ranke of treacheries:

That no one action ſhall ſeeme innocent.

Yea, valour, honor, bounty, ſhall be made,

As acceſſaries vnto endes vniuſt:

And euen the ſeruice of the ſtate muſt lade,

The need full’st undertakings with distruſt.

  So that baſe vileneſſe idle luxurie

  Seeme ſafer far, than to do worthily.

Suſpicion full of eyes, and full of eares.

Doth thorow the tincture of her owne conceipt,

See all thinges in the coulours of her feares:

And truth it ſelfe muſt looke like to deceipt,

That what way s’euer the suſpected take,

Still, enuy will moſt cunningly forelay

The ambuſh of their ruine, or will make

Their humors of themſelues to take that way.

  But this is ſtill the fate of thoſe that are,

By nature or their fortunes eminent.

Who either carried in conceipt too far,

Do worke their owne or others diſcontent:

Or els are deemed fit to be ſuppreſt.

Not for they are, but that they may be ill,

Since ſtates haue euer had far more vnreſt,

By ſpirits of worth, then men of meaner skill:

 And find that thoſe do alwayes better proue,

 Wh’are equall to imployment not aboue.

For ſelfe opinion would be ſeene more wiſe

Than preſent counſels, cuſtomes, orders lawes,

And to the end to haue them otherwiſe,

The common wealth into combustion drawes.

 As if ordaind t’imbroyle the world with wit,

  Aſ well as groſeneſſe to diſhonour it.

Actvs 4. Scena I.

Attaras.  Sostratus.

Soſt. Can there be ſuch a ſudden change in Court

As you report? Is it to be belieud

That great Philotas, whom we all beheld

In grace laſt night, ſhould be arraignd to day.

   Att. It can be: and it is as I report

For ſtates of grace are no ſure holds in courts.

  Soſt. But yet tis ſtrange they ſhould be ouerthrowne

Before their certeine forfeitures were knowen.

  Att. Tuſh, it was breeding long, though ſuddenly

This thunder cracke comes but to breake out now.

  Soſt. The time I waited, and I waited long

Vntill Philotas, with ſome other Lords

Depart the Preſence, and as I conceiud,

I neuer ſaw the King in better mood,

Not yet Philotas euer in more grace

Can ſuch ſtormes grow, and yet no clouds appeare?

  Att. Yea, court ſtormes grow, when skies there ſeeme moſt cleare

It was about the deepeſt of the night  

The blackeſt houre of darkneſſe and of ſleepe

When, with ſome other lords, comes Craterus

Falles downe before the King, intreats, implores,

Coniures his Grace, as euer he would looke

To ſaue his perſon and the State from ſpoile,

Now to preuent Philotas practiſes.

Whom they had plainly found to be the man

Had plotted the deſtruction of them all.

 The King would faine haue put them off to time

And farther day, till better proofs were knowne

Which they perceiuing, preſt him ſtill the more

And reinforc’d his dangers and their owne.

And neuer left him till they had obtaind

Commiſſion t’apprehend Philotas ſtreight.

 Now, to make feare looke with more hideous face,

Or els, but to beget it out of forme,

And carefull preparations of diſtruſt:

About the Palace men in armour watch

In armour men about the King attend,

All paſſages and iſſuos were forelaid

With horſe, t’interrupt what euer newes

Should hence breake out into Parmenios campe.

I, with three hundred men in armour chargd

Had warrant to attach and to commit

The perſon of Philotas preſently:

And comming to his lodging where he lay,

Found him imburied in the ſoundeſt ſleepe

That euer man could be; where neither noice

Of clattring weapons, or our ruſhing in

With rude and trampling rumour, could diſſolue

The heauie humour of that drowſie brow

Which held perhaps his ſences now more faſt

As loth to leaue, becauſe it was the laſt.

  Soſt. Attaras, What, can treaſon ſleepe ſo ſound?

Will that lowd hand of Horror that ſtill beats,

Vpon the guiltie conſcience of diſtruſt:

Permit it t haue ſo reſolute a reſt?

  Att. I cannot tell: but thus we found him there,

Nor could we (I aſſure you) waken him:

Till thrice I call’d him by his name, and thrice

Had ſhooke him hard; and then at length he wakes,

And looking on me with a ſetled cheere,

Deare friend Attaras, what’s the the newes ſaid hee?

What vp ſo ſoone, to haſten the remoue,

Or rais’d by ſome alarme of ſome diſtruſt?

I tolde him, that the King had ſome diſtruſt.

Why, what will Nabarzanes play ſaith he

The villaine with the King, as he hath done

Alreadie with his miſerable Lord?

I ſeeing he would not or did not vnderſtand

His owne diſtreſſe, tolde him the charge I had:

Wherewith he roſe, and riſing vs’d theſe words:

O Alexander! now I ſee my foes,

Haue got aboue thy goodneſſe, and preuaild:

Againſt my innocencie and thy word.

And as we then inchain’d and fettred him,

Looking on that baſe furniture of ſhame,

Poore body (ſayd he) hath ſo many alarme:

Rais’d thee to bloud and danger from thy reſt,

T’inueſt thee with this armor now at laſt,

Is this the ſeruice I am call’d to now?

 But we, that were not to attend his plaints,

Couering his head with a diſgracefull weed:

Tooke and conuaid him ſuddainly to warde,

From whence he ſhal be inſtantly brought forth,

Heere to b’arraign’d before the King, who ſits,

(According to the Macedonian vſe)

In caſes capitall, himſelfe as Iudge.

  Soſt.  Well, then I ſee, who are ſo high aboue,

Are neere to lightning, that are neere to Ioue.

Scena Secvnda.

Alexander, with all his Councell, the dead body of Dymnus, the Reuealers of the conſpiracie, Philotas.

THe hainous treaſon of ſome few had like,

T’haue rent me from you, worthy ſoldiers,

But by the mercy of th’immortall Gods

I liue, and ioy your ſight, your reuerend ſight,

Which makes me more t’abhor thoſe parracides,

Not for mine owne reſpect, but for the wrong,

You had receiued, if their deſigne had ſtood,

Since I deſire but life to do you good.

  Bur how will you be mou’d, when you ſhall know,

Who were the men that did attempt this ſhame:

When I ſhall ſhow that which I grieue to ſhow:

And name ſuch, as would God I could not name.

But that the foulneſſe of their practiſe now:

Blots out all memory of what they were

And though I would ſuppreſſe them, yet I know,

This ſhame of theirs will neuer but appeare.

Parmenio is the man, a man you ſee

Bound by ſo many merits both to me

And to my father, and our ancient frend

A man of yeeres, experience, grauity,

Whoſe wicked miniſter Philotas is

Who heere Dimetrius, Luculaus, and

This Dymnus, whoſe dead body heere you ſee

With others, hath ſuborn’d to ſlaughter mee.

  And here comes Metron with Nichomacus

To whom this murdred wretch at firſt reueald

The proiect of this whole conſpiracie

T’auere as much as was diſcloſd to him.

 Nichomacus, Looke heere, aduiſe thee well,

What, do’ſt thou know this man that here lies dead?

  Nic.  My ſouereigne lord, I know him very well,

It is one Dymnus, who did three dayes ſince

Bewray to me a treaſon practiſed

By him and others, to haue ſlaine your grace.

  Alex.  Where or by whom, or when did he report

This wicked act ſhould be accompliſhed?

  Nic.   He ſayd, Within three dayes your maieſty

Should be within your chamber murthered

By ſpeciall men of the nobility

Of whom he many namd, and they were theſe:

Loceus, Demetrius and Archelopis

Nicanor, and Amintas, Luculeus

Droceus, with Aphebetus, and himſelfe.

  Mot.  Thus much his brother Ceballinus did

Reueale to me from our this youth’s report.

  Ceb. And ſo much, with the circumſtance of all

Did I into Philotas intimate.

  Alex.  Then, what hath been his minde, who did ſuppreſſe

The information of ſo foule a traine      

Your ſelues, my worthy ſouldiers, well may geſſe,

Which Dymnus death declares not to be vaine.

Poore Ceballinus not a moment ſtayes,

To rediſcharge himſelfe of ſuch a waight;

Philotas careleſſe, feareleſſe, nothing weighes

Nor ought reueales. His ſilence ſhewes deceipt,

And telles he was content it ſhould be done

Which, though he were no partie, makes him one.

 For he that knew vpon what pow’r he ſtood

And ſaw his fathers greatneſſe and his owne

Saw nothing in the way, which now withſtood

His vaſt deſires, but only this my crowne.

Which in reſpect that I am iſſuleſſe,

He thinks the rather caſſe to b’attaind

But yet Philotas is deceiud in this

I haue who ſhall inherit all I gaind,

In you I haue both children, kindred friends

You are the heires of all my purchaſes,

And Whilſt you liue I am not iſſuleſſe.

 And that theſe are not ſhadowes of my feares,

(For I feare nought but want of enemies,)

See what this intercepted letter beares,

And how Parmenio doth his ſonnes aduiſe:

This ſhewes their ends. Holde, read it Craterus.

 Crat. reads it. My ſonnes, Firſt haue a ſpeciall care vnto your ſelues

Then vnto thoſe which do depend on you.  

So ſhall you do what you intend to doo.

  Alex. See but how cloſe he writes, that if theſe lines

Should come vnto his ſonnes, as they are ſent,

They might incourage them in their deſſeignes,

If enterpriz’d, might mocke the ignorant

But now you ſee what was the thing was ment,

You ſee the fathers care, the ſonnes intent.

 And what if he, as a conſpirator,

Was not by Dymnus nam’d among the reſt:

That ſhewes not his innocencie, but his powre,

Whom they account too great to be ſuppreſt:

And rather will accuſe themſelues than him,

For that Whilſt he ſhall liue, there’s hope for them.

And how h’hath borne himſelfe in priuate ſorte.

I will not ſtand to vrge, it’s too well knowne,

Not what hath been his arrogant reporte:

T’imbaſe my actions, and to brag his owne.

Nor how he mockt my letter which I wrote::

To ſhew him of the ſtile beſtow’d on mee,

By th’Oracle of Ioue. Theſe things I thought

But weakneſſes, and words of vanity,

(Yet words that read the vlcers of his hart)

Which I ſuppreſt, and neuer ceaſt to yeald

The chiefe rewards of worth, and ſtill compart,

The beſt degrees and honors of the field.

In hope to win his loue, yet now at length,

There haue I danger where I looke for ſtrength:

I would to God my bloud had rather bene

Powr’d out, the offring of an enemy;

Than practiz’d to be ſlied by one of mine,

That one of mine ſhould haue this infamy.

Haue I been ſo reſeru’d from feares, to fall

There where I ought not to haue feard at all?

Haue you ſo oft aduis’d me to regard

The ſafety which you ſaw me running from,

When with ſome hote purſute I preſſed hard

My foes abrode; to periſh thus at home ?

   But now, that ſafety only reſts in you

Which you ſo oft haue wiſht me looke vnto.

And now vnto you boſome, muſt I fly

Without whoſe will I will not wiſh to liue:

And with your wils I can not, leſſe I giue

Due puniſhment vnto this treachery.

    Amyn. Attaras, bring the hatefull priſoner forth

This traitor, which hath ſought t’vndoo vs all,

To giue vs vp to ſlaughter, and to make

Our bloud aſ come, here in this barbarous land.

That none of vs ſhould haue returned backe,

Vnto our natiue countrey to our wiues

Our aged parents, kindred and our friends.

To make the body of this glorious hoſt

A moſt deformed trunke without a head,

Without the life or ſoule to guide the ſame.

   Canus.  O thou baſe traitor impious parracide,

Who mak’ſt me loath the bloud that match’d with thine

And if I might but haue my will. I vow

Thou ſhould’ſt not die by other hand than mine.

  Alex.Fie, Canus, what a barbarous courſe is this

He firſt muſt to his accuſation pleade.

And haue his triall, form all to our lawes

And let him make the beſt of his bad cauſe

Philotas, heere the Macedonians are,

To iudge your fact, what language wilt thou vſe?

 Phi. The Perſian language, if it pleaſe you grace:

For that, beſide the Macedonians, here

Are many that will better vnderſtand,

If I ſhall vſe the ſpeech your grace hath vs’d;

Which was, I hold, vnto no other end,

But that the moſt men here might vnderſtand.

  Alex.See how his natiue language he diſdaines,

But let him ſpeake at large, as he deſires,

So long as you remember he doth hate

Beſides the ſpeech, our glory and the ſtate.   Exits

 Phi.Black are the colours layd vpon the crime,

Wherewith my faith ſtands charg’d, my worthy lords:
That as behinde in fortune ſo in time,

I come too late to cleere the ſame with words.

My condemnation is gone out before

My innocency and my iuſt defence:

And takes vp all your hearts, and leaues no dore

For mine excuſe to haue an enterance.

That deſtitute of all compaſſion, now,

Betwixt an vpright conſcience of deſart

And an vniuſt diſgrace, I know not how

To ſatisfie the time, an mine owne hart.

Authoritie looks with ſo ſterne an eye

Vpon this wofull bar, an muſt haue ſtill

Such an aduantage ouer miſery

As that it will make good all that it will.

  He who ſhould only iudge my cauſe, is gone,

And why he would not ſtay, I do not ſee,

Since when my cauſe were heard, his powre alone,

As well might then condemne as ſet me free:

Nor can I by his abſence now be clear’d

Whoſe preſence hath condemn’d me thus vnheard.

And though the grieuance of a priſoners tongue,

May both ſuperfluous and diſgracefull ſeeme,

Which doth not ſue, but ſhewes the iudge his wrong:

Yet pardon me, I muſt not diſeſteme

My rightfull cauſe for being deſpis’d, nor muſt

Forſake my ſelfe, though I am left of all,

Feare can not make my innocence vniuſt

Vnto it ſelfe, to giue my truth the fall.

And I had rather, ſeeing how my fortune drawes,

My words ſhould be deformed than my cauſe.

  I know that nothing is more delicate

Than is the ſenſe and feeling of a ſtate:

The clap, the bruit, the feare but of a hurt

In Kings behalfs, thruſts with that violence

The ſubiects will, to proſecute report,

As they condemne ere they diſcerne th’offence.

 Eph. Philotas, you deceiue your ſelfe in this

That thinke to win compaſſion and beliefe

B’impugning iuſtice, and to make men geſſe

We do you wrong out of our heat of griefe,

Or that our place or paſſion did lay more

On your misfortune, than your one deſeart

Or haue not well diſcern’d your fact before,

Or would without due proofs your ſtate ſubuert,

  Theſe are the vſuall theames of traitors tongues

Who practiſe miſchiefs, and complaine of wrongs

Your treaſons are too manifeſtly knowne

To maſke in other liuery than their owne.

 Cra.Thinke not, that we are ſet to charge you here

With bare ſuſpitions, but with open fact,

And with a treaſon that appears as cleare

As is the ſun, and known to be your act.

 Ph. What is this treaſon? Who accuſes mee?

 Cra.The proceſſe of the whole conſpiracy.

 Ph. But where’s the men that names me to be one?

 Cra.Here, this dead traitor ſhewes you to be one.

 Ph.How can he, dead, accuſe me of the ſame

Whom, liuing, he nor did, nor yet could name.

 Cra. But we can other teſtimonie ſhow

From thoſe who were your chiefeſt complices.

 Ph. I am not to be adiudg’d in law you know           

By teftimony, but by witneſſes.⁴

Let them be here produc’d vnto my face

That can auouch m’a party in this caſe.

My Lords and fellowe ſouldiers if of thoſe

Whom Dymnus nominated, any one

Out of his torures will a word diſcloſe

To ſhew I was a party: I haue done.

Thinke not ſo great a number euer will

Endure their torments and themeſelues accuſe

And leaue me out. Since men in ſuch a caſe, ſtill

Will rather ſlander others than excuſe.

Calamitie malignant is, and he

That ſuffers iuſtly for his guiltineſſe

Eaſes his owne affliction, but to ſee

Others tormented in the ſame diſtreſſe,

And yet I feare not whatſoeuer they

By racks and tortures can be forſt to ſay.

Had I been one, would Dymnus haue conceald,

My name, being held to be the principall?

Would he not for his glory haue reueald

The beſt to him, to whom he muſt tell all?

Nay, if he falſly then had nam’d me one?

To grace himſelfe, muſt I of force be one.

 Alas, if Ceballinus had not come to me

And giuen me note of this conſpiracy

I had not ſtood here now, but bin as free

From queſtion, as I am from treachery.

That is the only cloud that thundereth

On my diſgrace. Which had I deemed true

Or could but haue deuind of Dymnus death

Philotas, had, my Lords, ſat there with you.

My fault was, to haue been too credulous

Wherein I ſhewd my weakneſſe I confeſſe. 

  Cra. Philotas what a monarch and confeſſe

Your imperfections and your weaknes?

 Phi. O Craterus, do not inſult vpon calamity,

It is a barberous groſnes to lay on

The weight of skorne where heauy miſery

To much already waies mens fortunes downe

For if the cauſe be ill I vndergo,

The law and not reproch muſt make it ſo.

 Can. There’s no reproch can euer be too much

To lay on traitors, whoſe deſearts are ſuch.

 Ph.Men vſe the moſt reproches, where they feare

The cauſe will better proue than they deſire.

 Can. But ſir, a traitors cauſe that is ſo cleere

As this of yours, will neuer need that feare.

 Phi. I am no traitor, but ſuſpected one,

For not beleuing a conſpiracie.

And meere ſuſpect, by law, condemneth none,

They are approued facts for which men die.

 Cra.  The law, in treaſons, doth the will correct,

With like ſeuereneſſe as it doth th’effect.

Th’affection is the eſſence of th’offence,

The execution only but the accidence,

To haue but will’d it, is to haue done the ſame.

 Phi. I did not erre in will, but in beliefe,

And if that be a traitor, then am I the chiefe.

 Cra. Yea, but your will made your beliefe conſent  

To hide the practiſe till th’accompliſhment.

 Phi. Beliefe turnes not by motions of our will,

And it was but the euent that made that ill.

Some facts men may excuſe, though not defend,

Where will and fortune haue a diuers end.

Th’example of my father made me feare

To be too forward to relate things heard.

Who writing to the King, wiſht him forbeare,

The potion his phiſition had prepar’d.

For that he heard Darius tempted had,

His faith, with many talents, to be vntrue.

And yet his druggs in th’end not prouing bad,

Did make my fathers care ſeeme more than due.

For oft, by an vntimely diligence,

A buſie faith may giue a prince offence.           

So that, what ſhall we doo? if wee reueale

Wee are deſpis’d; ſuſpected if conceale.

And as for this, where euer now thou bee

O Alexander, thou haſt pardon’d me.

Thou haſt alreadie giuen me thy hand,

The earneſt of thy reconciled hart.

And therefore now ô let thy goodneſſe ſtand,

Vnto thy word, and be thou as thou wert.

Yf thou beleuidſt me then, I am abſolud.

Yf pardon’d me, theſe fetters are diſſolu’d.

What haue I els deſeru’d ſince yeſter night,

When at thy table I ſuch grace did finde,

What hainous crime hath ſince been brought to light,

To wrong my faith, and to diuert thy mind?

That from a reſtfull quiet moſt profound,

Sleeping in my miſfortunes, made ſecure

Both by thy hand, and by a conſcience ſound,

I muſt be wak’t for Gyues, for robes impure

For all diſgrace that on me wrath could lay,

And ſee the worſt of ſhame, ere I ſaw day.

When I leaſt thought that others crueltie,

Should haue wrought more thē thine owne clemency.

  Cra. Philotas whatſoeuer gloſſe you lay,

Vpon your rotten cauſe, it is in vaine,

Your pride, your cariage, euer did bewray

Your diſcontent, your malice, and diſdaine.

You cannot palliat miſchiefe but it will,

Th’row all the faireſt couerings of deceipt

Be alwayes ſeene; we know thoſe ſtreames of ill,

Flow’d from that head that feed them with conceipt.

You foſter malcontent, you intertaine

All humors, you all factions muſt imbrace.

You vaunt your own exploits, and you diſdaine

The Kings proceedings, and his ſtile diſgrace.

You promiſe mountaines, and you draw men on,

With hopes of greater good than hath been ſeene.

You bragg’d of late, that ſome thing would be donne

Whereby your Concubine ſhould be a Queene.

And now we ſee the thing that ſhould be donne.

But, God be praiſd, we ſee you firſt vndonne.

 Phi. Ah, do not make my nature if it had,

So pliable a ſterne of diſpoſition,

To turne to euery kindneſſe, to be bad,

For doing good to men of all condition.

Make not your charitie t’interpret all

Is done for fauour, to be done for ſhow,

And that we, in our bounties prodigall,

Vpon our ends, not on mens needs beſtow.

Let not my one dayes errour make you tell,

That all my life-time I did neuer well.

And that be cauſe this fallen out to be ill,

That what I did, did tend vnto this ill.

It is vniuſt to ioyne t’a preſent fact

More of time paſt, than it hath euer had

Before to do withall, as if it lackt

Sufficient matter els to make it bad.

I do confeſſe indeed I wrote ſomthing.

Againſt this title of the ſonne of Ioue,

And that not of the King, but to the king,

I freely vs’d theſe words out of my loue,

And thereby hath that dangerous liberty

Of ſpeaking truth, with truſt on former grace

Betrai’d my meaning vnto emnity

And draw’n an argument of my diſgrace.

So that I ſee, though I ſpake what I ought,

It was not in that maner as I ought.

  And God forbid, that euer ſouldiers words

Should be made liable vnto miſdeedes,

When fainting in their march, tyrd in the fight,

Sicke in their tent, ſtopping in their wounds that bleedes,

Or haut and iolly after conqueſt gote

They ſhall out of their heat vſe words vnkind,

Their deeds deſerue, to haue them rather thought

The paſſion of the ſeaſon, than their minde.

For ſouldiers ioy, or wrath, is meaſureleſſe,

Rapt with an inſtant motion, and we blame,

We hate, we praiſe, we pitty in exceſſe

According as our preſent paſſions flame.

Sometimes to paſſe the Ocean we would faine

Sometimes to other worlds, and ſometimes ſlack

And idle, with our conqueſts, intertaine

A ſullen humor of returning back.

All which conceits one trumpets ſound doth end,

And each man running to his rankes doth loſe

What in our tents diſlike vs, and we ſpend

All that conceiued wrath vpon our foes.

And words, if they proceed of leuity

Are to be ſcorn’d; of madneſſe pittied

If out of malice or of iniury

To be remiſs’d or vnacknowledged:

For of themſelues, they vaniſh by diſdaine,

But if purſude, they will be thought not vaine.

 Cra.  But words, according to the perſon way,

If his deſignes are hainous, ſo are they:

They are the tinder of ſedition ſtill,

Wherewith you kindle fires inflame mens will.

 Phi.  Craterus, you haue th’aduantage of the day,

The law is yours, to ſay what you will ſay:

And yet doth all your gloſſe but beare the ſence

Only of my misfortune, not offence.

Had I pretended miſchiefe to the King.

Could not I haue effected it without

Dymnus? did not my free acceſſe bring

Continuall meanes t’haue brought the ſame about?

Was not I, ſince I heard the thing diſcride,

Alone, and arm’d, in priuate with his Grace?

What hindred me, that then I had not tride

T’haue done that miſchiefe, hauing time and place?

 Cra. Philotas, euen the Prouidence aboue,

Protectreſſe of the ſacred ſtate of Kings,

That neuer ſuffers treacherie to haue

Good counſell, neuer in this caſe but brings

Confuſion to the actors, did vndo

Your hearts in what you went about to do.

 Phi. But yet deſpaire, we ſee, doth thruſt men on,

Seeing no way els, t’vndo ere be vndon.

  Cra. That ſame deſpaire doth like wiſe let men fall know’n

In that amaze, they can do nought at all, 

  Phi. Well, well, my lords, my ſeruice hath made

The faith I owe my Souereigne and the State,

Philotas forwardneſſe hath euer ſhow’n

Vnto all nations, at how high a rate

I priz’d my King, and at how low my bloud,

To do him honour and my countrey good.  

  Eph. We blame not what y’haue been, but what you are:

We accuſe not heere your valour, but your fact,

Not to haue been a leader in the warre,

But an ill ſubiect in a wicked act:

Although we know, thruſt rather with the loue

Of your owne glory, than with dutie lead,

You haue done much; yet all your courſes proue

You tide ſtill your atchieuements to the head

Of your owne honour, when it had bin meet

You had them layd downe at your Souereignes feet.

God giues to Kings the honour to command,

To ſubiects all their glorie to obay,

Who ought in time of war as rampiers ſtand,

In peace as th’ornaments of State aray.

The King hath recompens’d your ſeruices

With better loue than you ſhew thankfulneſſe.

By grace he made you greater than you were

By nature; you receiu’d that which he was not tide

To giue to you: his gift was far more deere

Than all you did, in making you inploid.

But ſay your ſeruice hath deſeru’d it all,

This one offence hath made it odious all:

And therefore heere in vaine you vſe that meane,

To plead for life, which you haue cancell’d cleane.          

  Phi. My lord, you far miſtake me, if you deeme

I plead for life, that poore weake blaſt of breath,

From which ſo oft I ran with light eſteeme,

And ſo well haue acquainted me with death,

No, no, my lords, it is not that I feare

It is mine honour that I ſeeke to cleare.

And which, if my diſgraced cauſe would let

The language of my heart be vnderſtood,

Is all which I haue euer ſought to get

And which (o leaue me now) and take my bloud.

Let not your enuy go beyond the bound

Of what you ſeeke; my life ſtands in your way

That is your aime, take it and do not wounde

My reputation with that wrong, I pray.

If I muſt needs be made the ſacrifice

Of enuy, and that no oblation will

The wrath of Kings, but only bloud ſuffize,

Yet let me haue ſomething left that is not ill.

Is there no way to get vnto our liues

But firſt to haue our honour ouerthrowne?

Alas, though grace of Kings all greatneſſe giues

It can not giue vs vertue, that’s our owne

Though all be theirs our hearts and hands can do

Yet that by which we do is only ours:

The trophees that our bloud erects vnto

Their memorie, to glorifie their powres

Let them enjoy: yet noly to haue done

Worthy of grace, let not that be vndone.

Let that high ſwelling liuer of their fame

Leaue humble ſtreames, that feed them yet their name

  O my deare father, didſt thou bring that ſpirit

Thoſe hands of vallour, that ſo much haue done.

In this great worke of Aſia, this to merit

By doing worthily, to be vndone?

And haſt thou made this purchaſe of thy ſword

To get ſo great an Empire for thy Lord

And ſo diſgrac’d a graue for thee and thine,

T’extinguiſh by thy ſeruice all thy line?

  One of thy ſonnes by being too valourous

But fiue dayes ſince, yet ô well, loſt his breath

Thy neare Nicanor th’halfe arch of thy houſe,

And here now the other at the barr of death

Stands ouercharg’d with wrath in far worſe caſe

And is to be confounded with diſgrace.

Thy ſelfe muſt giue th’acquitance of thy blood

For others debts, to whom thou haſt done good.

Which, if they would a little time afford

Death would haue taken it without a ſword.

Such the rewards of great imploiments are

Hate killes in peace, whom Fortune ſpares in war.

And this is that high grace of Kings we ſeeke,

Whoſe fauour and whoſe wrath conſumes alike.

 Eph. Loe here the miſery of kings, whoſe cauſe

How euer iuſt it be, how euer ſtrong,

Yet in reſpect they may, their greatneſſe drawes

The world to thinke they euer do the wrong.

But this ſoule fact of yours, you ſtand vpon

Philotas, ſhall, beſide th’apparancy

Which all the world ſees plaine, ere we haue done

By your owne mouth be made to ſatiſfie.

The moſt ſtiffe partialiſt that will not ſee.

  Phi. My mouth will neuer proue ſo falſe I truſt

Vnto my heart, to ſhew it ſelfe vniuſt:

And what I here do ſpeake I know my lords

I ſpeake with mine owne mouth, but other where

What may be ſayd, I ſay, may be the words

Not of my breath, but fame that oft doth erre,

Let th’oracle of Ammon be inquir’d

About this fact, who, if it ſhall be true

Will neuer ſuffer thoſe who haue conſpird

Againſt Ioues ſonne, t’eſcape without their due;

But will reueale the truth: or if this ſhall

Not ſeeme conuenient, why then lay on all

The tortures that may force a tongue to tell

The ſecret’ſt thought that could imagin ill.

 Bel. What need we ſend to know more then we know

This were to giue you time to acquaint your friends

With your eſtate, till ſome combuſtion grow

Within the campe to haſten on your ends:

And that the golde and all the treaſury

Committed to your fathers cuſtody

In Medea, now might arme his deſp’rat troupes

To come vpon vs, and to cut our throtes.

What ſhall we aſke of Ioue that which he hath

Reueald already? But let’s ſend to giue

Thanks that by him, the king hath skapt the wrath

Of thee diſloyall traitor and doth liue.

  Guar. Let’s teare the wretch in pieces, let vs rend

With our owne hands the traitrous paracide.

  Alex. Peace Belon, ſilence louing ſouldiers.

You ſee, my lords, out of your iudgements graue

That all excuſes ſickly colours haue,

And he that hath thus falſe and faithles bene

Muſt finde out other gods and other men

Whom to forſweare, and whom he may deceiue;

No words of his can make vs more belieue

His impudence, and therefore ſeeing tis late,

We till morning, do diſmiſſe the court.

Actvs 5. Chorvs.

Chorus. Grecian and Perſian.

Per. Well then I ſee there is ſmall difference

Betwixt your ſtate and ours you ciuill Greeks.

You great contriuers of free gouernments,

Whoſe skill the world from out all countries ſeekes.

Thoſe whom you call your kings are but the ſame

As are our ſoueraigne tirants of the Eaſt,

I ſee they onely differ but in name,

Th’ effects they ſhew agree, or neere at leaſt.

Your great men here as our great Satrapaes

I ſee laid proſtrate are with baſeſt ſhame,

Vpon the leaſt ſuspect, or iealouſies

Your King, sconceiue or others enuyes frame,

Onely herein they differ, that your Prince

Proceeds by forme of law t’effect his end;

Our Perſian Monarch makes his frowne conuince           

The ſtrongeſt truth: his ſword the proces ends

With preſent death, and maks no more adoo,

He neuer ſtands to giue a gloſſe vnto

His violence, to make it to appeare

In other hew, then that it ought to beare.

Wherein plaine dealing beſt his courſe commends

For more h’offends who by the law offends

What need hath Alexander ſo to ſtriue

By all theſe ſhewes of forme, to find this man

Guilty of treaſon, when he doth contriue

To haue him ſo adiudgd, do what he can.

He muſt not be acquit, though he be clere

Th’offendor not th’offence is puniſht here.

And what auailes the fore-condemnd to ſpeake

How euer strong his cauſe, his ſtate is weake.

  Gre. Ah, but it ſatiſfies the world, and wee

Think that well don, which done by law we ſee.

  Per. And yet your law ſerues but your priuate ends

And to the compaſſe of your powre extends.

But it is for the maieſty of Kings

To ſit in iudgements thus themſelues with you?

  Gre. To do men iuſtice is the thing that bringes

The greateſt maiesty on earth to Kings.

 Per. That by their ſubalternate miniſters

May be performed as well, and with more grace

For to command it to be don infers

More glory then to doo. It doth imbaſe

Th’opinion of a powre t’inuulgar ſo

That ſacred preſence, which ſhould neuer go

Neuer be ſeene ,but euen as Gods below

Like to our Perſian Kings in glorious ſhow.

And who as ſtarres affixed to their Sphere

May not deſcend to be from what they are.  

  Gre. Where kings are ſo like gods, there ſubiects are not men.  

  Per. Your king begins this courſe, & what wil you be thē?

  Gre. Indeed ſince proſperous fortune gaue the raine

To head-ſtrong powre and luſt, I muſt confeſſe

We Grecians haue loſt deeply by our gayne,

And this our greatneſſe makes vs much the leſſe

For by th’acceſſion of theſe mighty ſtates

Which Alexander wonderouſly hath got

He hath forgot himſelfe, and vs, and rates

His ſtate aboue mankind, and ours at nought.

This hath thy pompe ô feeble Aſia wrought,

Thy baſe adornings hath tranſformd the King

Into that ſhape of pride, as he is brought

Out of his witts, out of acknowledging

From whence the glory of his greatneſſe springes,

And that it was our ſwords that wrought theſe thinges.

How well were we within the narrow bounds

Of our ſufficient yeelding Macedon,

Before our kings inlardgd then with our wounds

And made theſe ſalies of ambition.

Before they came to giue the regall law

To thoſe free states which kept their crownes in awe.

They by theſe large dominions are made more

But we become far weaker then before.

What get we now by winning but wide mindes

And weary bodyes with th’expence of bloud?

What ſhould ill doo, ſince happy fortune findes

But miſery, and is not good, though good?

Action begets ſtill action, and retaines

Our hopes beyond our wiſhes, drawing on

A neuer ending circle of our paines

That makes vs not haue donne, when we haue done.

What can giue bounds to Alexanders ends

Who countes the world but ſmall, that calles him great:

And his deſires beyond his pray distends

Like beaſts that murther more than they can eate?

When ſhall we looke his trauels will be donne,

That tends beyond the Ocean and the Sunne?

What diſcontentments will there ſtill ariſe

In ſuch a Campe of kings, to inter-ſhock

Each others greatneſſe, and what mutinies,

Will put him from his comforts, and will mock

His hopes, and neuer ſuffer him to haue

That which he hath of all which fortune gaue?

And from Philotas bloud (ó worthy man)

Whoſe body now rent on the torture lyes

Will flow that vaine of freſh conſpiracies,

As ouerflow him will, do what he can.

For cruelty doth not imbetter men

But them more wary makes than they haue ben.

  Per. Are not your great men free from tortures then

Muſt they be likewiſe rackt as other men?

  Gre. Treaſon affoords a priuiledg to none

Who like offends, hath puniſhment all one.

Scena 2.

Polidamas. Soſtratus.

Friend Soſtratus, come haue you euer knowne

Such a diſtracted face of court as now,

Such a diſtrſtfull eye, as men are growne

To feare themſelue and all; and do not know.

Where is the ſide that ſhakes not; who looks beſt

In this foule day, th’oppreſſor or th’oppreſt.

What poſting, what diſpatches, what aduice,

What ſearch, what running, what diſcoueries?

What rumors, what ſuggeſtions, what deuice

To cleere the king, pleaſe people, hold the wiſe,

Retaine the rude, cruſh the ſuſpected ſorte

At vnawares, ere they diſcerne th’are hurt.

So much the fall of ſuch a weighty peere

Doth ſhake the State, and with him tumble downe,

All whom his beame of fauour did vpbeare,

All who to reſt vpon his baſe were knowne:

And none, that did but touch vpon his loue

Are free from feare to periſh with his loue.

My ſelfe whom all the world haue know’n t’imbrace

Parmenio in th’intireneſſe of my hart,

And euer in all battels, euery chace

Of danger, fought ſtill next him on that part:

Was ſeazed on this laſt night, late in my bed,

And brought vnto the preſence of the king.

To pay I thought the tribute of my head,

But ô twas for a more abhorred thing :

I muſt redeeme my danger with the bloud

Of this deare friend, this deare Parmenios bloud.

His life muſt pay for mine, theſe hands muſt gore,

That worthy hart for whom they fought before.

  Sost. What, hath the King commanded ſuch a deed,

To make the harts of all his ſubiects bleed?

Muſt that olde worthy man Parmenio die?

Pol. O Soſtratus, he hath his doome to die,

And we muſt yeeld vnto neceſſity.

For comming to the king and there receiud

With vnexpected grace, he thus began:

Polidamas we both haue ben deceiud

In holding frienſhip with that faithleſſe man

Thou ſeeſt hath fought to out my throat and thine,

And thou muſt worke reuenge for thee and me:

And therefore haſte to Media ſpeedely,

Take theſe two letters here, the one from mee

Vnto my ſute and truſtie ſeruants there,

The other ſigned with Philotas ſeale,

As if the ſame t’his father written were:

Carrie them both, effect what I haue ſaid,