Chapter XIX: Appendix (2)

_Hep._ You said you would aske every one of them a question
which yesternight none of us could answere.[824] 85

_Alex._ I will. Plato, of all beasts which is the subtilest?

_Plato._ That which man hitherto never knew.

_Alex._ Aristotle, how should a man be thought a god?

_Aris._ In doing a thing unpossible for a man.

_Alex._ Crisippus, which was first, the day or the night? 90

_Aris._ The day, by a day.

_Alex._ Indeede, strange questions must have strange answers.
Cleanthes, what say you, is life or death the stronger?

_Cle._ Life, that suffereth so many troubles.

_Alex._ Crates, how long should a man live? 95

_Crates._ Till hee thinke it better to die than to live.

_Alex._ Anaxarchus, whether doth the sea or the earth bring forth
most creatures?

_Anax._ The earth, for the sea is but a part of the earth.

_Alex._ Hephestion, me thinkes they have answered all well, and 100
in such questions I meane often to trie them.

_Hep._ It is better to have in your court a wise man than in your
ground a golden mine. Therefore would I leave war, to study
wisdom, were I Alexander.

_Alex._ So would I, were I Hephestion.[825] But come, let us goe 105
and give release, as I promised, to our Theban thralls.[826]
_Exeunt_ [_Alexander, Hephestion, Parmenio, and Clytus._]

_Plato._ Thou art fortunate, Aristotle, that Alexander is thy
scholler.

_Aris._ And all you happy that he is your soveraigne.

_Crisip._ I could like the man well, if he could be contented to 110
bee but a man.

_Aris._ He seeketh to draw neere to the gods in knowledge, not to be a
god.
[_Enter_ DIOGENES.[827]]

_Plato._ Let us question a little with Diogenes why he went not
with us to Alexander. Diogenes, thou didst forget thy duety, that 115
thou wentst not with us to the king.

_Diog._ And you your profession that went to the king.

_Plato._ Thou takest as great pride to be peevish as others do glory
to be vertuous.

_Diog._ And thou as great honour, being a philosopher, to be 120
thought court-like, as others shame, that be courtiers, to be
accounted philosophers.

_Aris._ These austere manners set aside, it is well knowne that
thou didst counterfeite money.[828]

_Diog._ And thou thy manners, in that thou didst not counterfeite 125
money.[829]

_Aris._ Thou hast reason to contemne the court, being both in bodie
and minde too crooked for a courtier.

_Diog._ As good be crooked and indevour to make my selfe straight,
from the court, as bee straight and learne to be crooked at the
court. 130

_Cris._ Thou thinkest it a grace to be opposite against Alexander.

_Diog._ And thou to be jump with Alexander.

_Anax._ Let us goe, for in contemning him we shal better please
him than in wondering at him.

_Aris._ Plato, what doest thou thinke of Diogenes? 135

_Plato._ To be Socrates furious.[830] Let us go. _Exeunt Philosophi._

[_Diogenes moves about with a lantern as if seeking something._]

[_Enter_] PSYLLUS, MANES, [_and_] GRANICHUS.[831]

_Psyllus._ Behold, Manes, where thy master is, seeking either for
bones for his dinner or pinnes for his sleeves. I will goe salute
him.

_Manes._ Doe so; but mum, not a word that you saw Manes! 140

_Gran._ Then stay thou behinde, and I will goe with Psyllus.

[_Manes stands apart._]

_Psyllus._ All hayle, Diogenes, to your proper person.

_Diog._ All hate to thy peevish conditions.

_Gran._ O dogge!

_Psyllus._ What doest thou seeke for here? 145

_Diog._ For a man and a beast.

_Gran._ That is easie without thy light to bee found: be not all
these men?[832]

_Diog._ Called men.

_Gran._ What beast is it thou lookest for? 150

_Diog._ The beast my man Manes.

_Psyllus._ Hee is a beast indeed that will serve thee.

_Diog._ So is he that begat thee.

_Gran._ What wouldest thou do, if thou shouldst find Manes?

_Diog._ Give him leave to doe as hee hath done before. 155

_Gran._ What's that?

_Diog._ To run away.

_Psyllus._ Why, hast thou no neede of Manes?

_Diog._ It were a shame for Diogenes to have neede of Manes
and for Manes to have no neede of Diogenes.[833] 160

_Gran._ But put the case he were gone, wouldst thou entertaine
any of us two?

_Diog._ Upon condition.

_Psyllus._ What?

_Diog._ That you should tell me wherefore any of you both were 165
good.

_Gran._ Why, I am a scholler and well seene in philosophy.

_Psyllus._ And I a prentice and well seene in painting.

_Diog._ Well then, Granichus, be thou a painter to amend thine
ill face; and thou, Psyllus, a philosopher to correct thine evill 170
manners. But who is that? Manes?

_Manes_ [_coming forward slowly_]. I care not who I were, so I were
not Manes.

_Gran._ You are taken tardie.

_Psyllus._ Let us slip aside, Granichus, to see the salutation 175
betweene Manes and his master. [_They draw back._]

_Diog._ Manes, thou knowest the last day[834] I threw away my dish,
to drinke in my hand, because it was superfluous;[835] now I am
determined to put away my man and serve my selfe, _quia non egeo
tui vel te_. 180

_Manes._ Master, you know a while agoe I ran away; so doe I
meane to doe againe, _quia scio tibi non esse argentum_.

_Diog._ I know I have no money, neither will I[836] have ever a man,
for I was resolved long sithence to put away both my slaves,--money
and Manes. 185

_Manes._ So was I determined to shake off[837] both my dogges,--hunger
and Diogenes.

_Psyllus._ O sweet consent[838] betweene a crowde[839] and a Jewes
harpe!

_Gran._ Come, let us reconcile them.

_Psyllus._ It shall not neede, for this is their use: now doe they 190
dine one upon another. _Exit Diogenes._

_Gran._ [_coming forward with Psyllus_]. How now, Manes, art thou
gone from thy master?

_Manes._ No, I did but now binde my selfe to him.

_Psyllus._ Why, you were at mortall jarres! 195

_Manes._ In faith, no; we brake a bitter jest one upon another.

_Gran._ Why, thou art as dogged as he.

_Psyllus._ My father knew them both little whelps.

_Manes._ Well, I will hie me after my master.

_Gran._ Why, is it supper time with Diogenes? 200

_Manes._ I, with him at all time when he hath meate.

_Psyllus._ Why then, every man to his home; and let us steale
out againe anone.

_Gran._ Where shall we meete?

_Psyllus._ Why at _Alae[840] vendibili suspensa hædera non est
opus_. 205

_Manes._ O Psyllus, _habeo te loco parentis_; thou blessest me.
_Exeunt._

Actus secundus.[841] Scæna prima.[842]

ALEXANDER, HEPHESTION, [_and_] PAGE.[843]

_Alex._ Stand aside, sir boy, till you be called. [_The Page stands
aside._] Hephestion, how doe you like the sweet face of Campaspe?

_Hep._ I cannot but commende the stout courage of Timoclea.

_Alex._ Without doubt Campaspe had some great man to her
father. 5

_Hep._ You know Timoclea had Theagines to her brother.

_Alex._ Timoclea still in thy mouth! Art thou not in love?

_Hep._ Not I.

_Alex._ Not with Timoclea, you meane. Wherein you resemble
the lapwing, who crieth most where her nest is not.[844] And so 10
you lead me from espying your love with Campaspe,--you crie
Timoclea.

_Hep._ Could I as well subdue kingdomes as I can my thoughts, or
were I as farre from ambition as I am from love, all the world
would account mee as valiant in armes as I know my selfe moderate
in affection. 15

_Alex._ Is love a vice?

_Hep._ It is no vertue.

_Alex._ Well, now shalt thou see what small difference I make
between Alexander and Hephestion. And, sith thou hast been 20
alwaies partaker of my triumphes, thou shalt bee partaker of my
torments. I love, Hephestion, I love! I love Campaspe,--a
thing farre unfit for a Macedonian, for a king, for Alexander.
Why hangest thou downe thy head, Hephestion, blushing to heare
that which I am not ashamed to tell? 25

_Hep._ Might my words crave pardon and my counsell credit, I
would both discharge the duetie of a subject, for so I am, and the
office of a friend, for so I will.

_Alex._ Speake Hephestion; for, whatsoever is spoken, Hephestion
speaketh to Alexander. 30

_Hep_. I cannot tell, Alexander, whether the report be more
shamefull to be heard or the cause sorrowful to be beleeved? What,
is the son of Philip, king of Macedon, become the subject of
Campaspe, the captive of Thebes? Is that minde whose greatnes the
world could not containe drawn within the compasse of an idle, 35
alluring eie? Wil you handle the spindle with Hercules[845] when
you should shake the speare with Achilles? Is the warlike sound
of drum and trump turned to the soft noise of lyre and lute, the
neighing of barbed[846] steeds, whose lowdnes filled the aire with
terrour and whose breathes dimmed the sun with smoake, converted to
delicate tunes and amorous glances?[847] O Alexander, that soft 40
and yeelding minde should not bee in him whose hard and unconquerd
heart hath made so many yeeld. But you love! Ah griefe! But whom?
Campaspe. Ah shame! A maide, forsooth, unknowne, unnoble,--and
who can tell whether immodest?--whose eyes are framed by art 45
to enamour, and whose heart was made by nature to enchant. I, but
shee is beautifull. Yea, but not therefore chaste. I, but she is
comely in all parts of the bodie. But shee may bee crooked in
some part of the minde. I, but shee is wise. Yea, but she is a
woman. Beautie is like the blackberry, which seemeth red when 50
it is not ripe,--resembling precious stones that are polished with
honie,[848] which the smoother they looke, the sooner they breake.
It is thought wonderfull among the sea-men, that mugill,[849] of
all fishes the swiftest, is found in the belly of the bret,[850]
of all the slowest: and shall it not seeme monstrous to wise men
that the heart of the greatest conquerour of the world should 55
be found in the hands of the weakest creature of nature,--of a
woman, of a captive? Hermyns have faire skins, but foule livers;
sepulchres fresh colours, but rotten bones; women faire faces, but
false hearts. Remember, Alexander, thou hast a campe to governe,
not a chamber. Fall not from the armour of Mars to the armes of 60
Venus, from the fierie assaults of warre to the maidenly skirmishes
of love, from displaying the eagle in thine ensigne to set downe
the sparrow. I sigh, Alexander, that, where fortune could not
conquer, folly should overcome. But behold all the perfection
that may bee in Campaspe: a haire curling by nature, not art; 65
sweete alluring eyes; a faire face made in despite of Venus; and a
stately port in disdaine of Juno; a wit apt to conceive and quicke
to answere; a skinne as soft as silke and as smooth as jet; a long
white hand; a fine little foot,--to conclude, all parts answerable
to the best part. What of this? Though she have heavenly gifts, 70
vertue and beautie, is shee not of earthly metall, flesh and bloud?
You, Alexander, that would be a god, shew your selfe in this worse
than a man, so soone to be both overseene and over-taken[851] in a
woman, whose false teares know their true times, whose smooth words
wound deeper than sharpe swords. There is no surfet so dangerous 75
as that of honie, nor any poyson so deadly as that of love: in the
one physicke cannot prevaile, nor in the other counsell.

_Alex._ My case were light, Hephestion, and not worthy to be called
love, if reason were a remedie, or sentences could salve that 80
sense cannot conceive. Little do you know and therefore sleightly
doe you regard the dead embers in a private person or live coales
in a great prince, whose passions and thoughts doe as farre exceed
others in extremitie as their callings doe in majestie. An eclipse
in the sunne is more than the falling of a starre: none can
conceive the torments of a king, unlesse he be a king, whose 85
desires are not inferiour to their dignities. And then judge,
Hephestion, if the agonies of love be dangerous in a subject,
whether they be not more than deadly unto Alexander, whose deepe
and not to bee conceived sighes cleave the heart in shivers, whose
wounded thoughts can neither be expressed nor endured. Cease 90
then, Hephestion, with arguments to seeke to refell[852] that which
with their deitie the gods cannot resist; and let this suffice to
answere thee,--that it is a king that loveth, and Alexander, whose
affections are not to bee measured by reason, being immortall,
nor, I feare me, to be borne, being intolerable. 95

_Hep._ I must needs yeeld, when neither reason nor counsell can
bee heard.

_Alex._ Yeeld, Hephestion, for Alexander doth love, and therefore
must obtaine. 100

_Hep._ Suppose shee loves not you? Affection commeth not by
appointment or birth; and then as good hated as enforced.

_Alex._ I am a king, and will command.

_Hep._ You may, to yeeld to lust by force, but to consent to love
by feare, you cannot. 105

_Alex._ Why? What is that which Alexander may not conquer
as he list?

_Hep._ Why, that which you say the gods cannot resist,--love.

_Alex._ I am a conquerour, shee a captive; I as fortunate as shee 110
faire: my greatnesse may answere her wants, and the gifts of my
minde the modestie of hers. Is it not likely, then, that she should
love? Is it not reasonable?

_Hep._ You say that in love there is no reason; and, therefore,
there can be no likelyhood. 115

_Alex._ No more, Hephestion! In this case I will use mine own
counsell, and in all other thine advice: thou mayst be a good
souldier, but never good lover. Call my page. [_The Page comes
forward._] Sirrah, goe presently to Apelles and will him to come to
me without either delay or excuse. 120

_Page._ I goe. [_Exit._]

_Alex._ In the meane season, to recreate my spirits, being so
neere, wee will goe see Diogenes. And see where his tub is.[853]
[_Crosses stage._] Diogenes!

_Diog._ Who calleth? 125

_Alex._ Alexander. How happened it that you would not come
out of your tub to my palace?[854]

_Diog._ Because it was as farre from my tub to your palace as
from your palace to my tub.

_Alex._ Why then, doest thou owe no reverence to kings? 130

_Diog._ No.

_Alex._ Why so?

_Diog._ Because they be no gods.

_Alex._ They be gods of the earth.

_Diog._ Yea, gods of earth. 135

_Alex._ Plato is not of thy minde.

_Diog._ I am glad of it.

_Alex._ Why?

_Diog._ Because I would have none of Diogenes minde but Diogenes. 140

_Alex._ If Alexander have any thing that may pleasure Diogenes, let me
know, and take it.

_Diog._ Then take not from mee that you cannot give mee,--the light of
the world.

_Alex._ What doest thou want? 145

_Diog._ Nothing that you have.

_Alex._ I have the world at command.

_Diog._ And I in contempt.

_Alex._ Thou shalt live no longer than I will.

_Diog._ But I shall die whether you will or no. 150

_Alex._ How should one learne to bee content?

_Diog._ Unlearne to covet.

_Alex._ Hephestion, were I not Alexander, I would wish to bee
Diogenes!

_Hep._ He is dogged, but discreet; I cannot tell how sharpe, 155
with a kind of sweetnes; full of wit, yet too-too wayward.

_Alex._ Diogenes, when I come this way againe, I will both see thee
and confer with thee.

_Diog._ Doe.[855] [_Enter_ APELLES.]

_Alex._ But here commeth Apelles. How now, Apelles, is Venus 160
face yet finished?

_Apel._ Not yet; beautie is not so soone shadowed whose perfection
commeth not within the compasse either of cunning or of
colour.

_Alex._ Well, let it rest unperfect; and come you with mee where 165
I will shew you that finished by nature that you have beene trifling
about by art.
[_Exeunt Alexander, Hephestion, and Apelles._

Actus tertius. Scæna prima.[856]

[_Enter_] APELLES, CAMPASPE [_and a little behind them_, PSYLLUS.]

_Apel._ Ladie, I doubt whether there bee any colour so fresh that may
shadow a countenance so faire.

_Camp._ Sir, I had thought you had bin commanded to paint with your
hand, not to glose[857] with your tongue; but as I have heard, it
is the hardest thing in painting to set downe a hard favour,[858]
which maketh you to despaire of my face; and then[859] shall you 5
have as great thankes to spare your labour as to discredit your art.

_Apel._ Mistris, you neither differ from your selfe nor your sexe;
for, knowing your owne perfection, you seeme to disprayse that which
men most commend, drawing them by that meane into an admiration 10
where, feeding themselves, they fall into an extasie; your modestie
being the cause of the one, and of the other your affections.

_Camp._ I am too young to understand your speech, though old enough
to withstand your devise. You have bin so long used to colours you
can doe nothing but colour.[860] 15

_Apel_ Indeed the colours I see, I feare will alter the colour I
have.[861] But come, madam, will you draw neere?--for Alexander
will be here anon. Psyllus, stay you here at the window. If any
enquire for mee, answere, _Non lubet esse domi._
_Exeunt_ [_Apelles and Campaspe._[862]]

_Psyllus._ It is alwayes my masters fashion when any faire
gentle-woman is to be drawne within to make me to stay without. 20
But if hee should paint Jupiter like a bull, like a swanne, like an
eagle, then must Psyllus with one hand grind colours and with the
other hold the candle. But let him alone! The better hee shadowes
her face, the more will he burne his owne heart. And now if any 25
man could meet with Manes, who, I dare say, lookes as leane as if
Diogenes dropped out of his nose.[863] [_Enter_ MANES.]

_Manes._ And here comes Manes, who hath as much meate in his
maw as thou hast honestie in thy head.

_Psyllus._ Then I hope thou art very hungry. 30

_Manes._ They that know thee know that.

_Psyllus._ But doest thou not remember that wee have certaine
liquor to conferre withall.

_Manes._ I, but I have businesse; I must goe cry a thing.

_Psyllus._ Why, what hast thou lost? 35

_Manes._ That which I never had,--my dinner!

_Psyllus._ Foule lubber, wilt thou crie for thy dinner?

_Manes._ I meane I must crie,--not as one would say "crie,"
but "crie,"[864] that is, make a noyse.

_Psyllus._ Why foole, that is all one; for, if thou crie, thou must 40
needs make a noyse.

_Manes._ Boy, thou art deceived: crie hath divers significations,
and may be alluded to many things; knave but one,[865] and can be
applyed but to thee.

_Psyllus._ Profound Manes! 45

_Manes._ Wee Cynickes are mad fellowes. Didst thou not finde
I did quip thee?

_Psyllus._ No, verily! Why, what's a quip?

_Manes._ Wee great girders call it a short saying of a sharpe wit,
with a bitter sense in a sweet word. 50

_Psyllus._ How canst thou thus divine, divide, define, dispute, and
all on the sodaine?

_Manes._ Wit will have his swing! I am bewitcht, inspired, inflamed,
infected.

_Psyllus._ Well then will I not tempt thy gybing spirit. 55

_Manes._ Doe not, Psyllus, for thy dull head will bee but
a grind-stone for my quicke wit, which if thou whet with
overthwarts,[866] _periisti, actum est de te_! I have drawne bloud
at ones braines with a bitter bob.

_Psyllus._ Let me crosse my selfe; for I die if I crosse thee. 60

_Manes._ Let me doe my businesse. I my selfe am afraid lest my wit
should waxe warme, and then must it needs consume some hard head
with fine and prettie jests. I am sometimes in such a vaine that,
for want of some dull pate to worke on, I begin to gird my selfe. 65

_Psyllus._ The gods shield me from such a fine fellow, whose
words melt wits like waxe.

_Manes._ Well then, let us to the matter. In faith, my master
meaneth to morrow to flie.

_Psyllus._ It is a jest. 70

_Manes._ Is it a jest to flie? Shouldest thou flie so soone, thou
shouldest repent it in earnest.

_Psyllus._ Well, I will be the cryer.

_Manes and Psyllus_ (_one after another_). O ys! O ys! O ys![867] All
manner of men, women, or children, that will come to morrow into 75
the market place betweene the houres of nine and ten shall see
Diogenes the Cynicke--flie.[868]

_Psyllus._ I doe not thinke he will flie.

_Manes._ Tush, say "flie!"

_Psyllus._ Flie. 80

_Manes._ Now let us goe; for I will not see him againe till
midnight,--I have a backe way into his tub.

_Psyllus._ Which way callest thou the backe way, when every way
is open?

_Manes._ I meane to come in at his backe. 85

_Psyllus._ Well, let us goe away, that we may returne speedily.
_Exeunt._

Actus tertius. Scæna secunda.[869]

[_Enter_] APELLES, CAMPASPE.

_Apel._ I shall never draw your eyes well, because they blinde
mine.[870]

_Camp._ Why then, paint mee without eyes, for I am blind.[871]

_Apel._ Were you ever shadowed before of any?

_Camp._ No; and would you could so now shadow me that I 5
might not be perceived of any.[872]

_Apel._ It were pitie but that so absolute[873] a face should furnish
Venus temple amongst these pictures.

_Camp._ What are these pictures?

_Apel._ This is Læda, whom Jove deceived in likenesse of a swan. 10

_Camp._ A faire woman, but a foule deceit.

_Apel._ This is Alcmena, unto whom Jupiter came in shape of
Amphitrion, her husband, and begate Hercules.

_Camp._ A famous sonne, but an infamous fact.

_Apel._ Hee might doe it, because hee was a god. 15

_Camp._ Nay, therefore it was evill done because he was a god.

_Apel._ This is Danae, into whose prison Jupiter drizled a golden
showre, and obtained his desire.

_Camp._ What gold can make one yeeld to desire?

_Apel._ This is Europa, whom Jupiter ravished; this, Antiopa.[874] 20

_Camp._ Were all the gods like this Jupiter?

_Apel._ There were many gods in this like Jupiter.

_Camp._ I thinke in those dayes love was well ratified among men
on earth when lust was so full authorised by the gods in Heaven.

_Apel._ Nay, you may imagine there were women passing amiable 25
when there were gods exceeding amorous.

_Camp._ Were women never so faire, men would be false.

_Apel._ Were women never so false, men would be fond.

_Camp._ What counterfeit is this, Apelles?

_Apel._ This is Venus, the goddesse of love. 30

_Camp._ What, bee there also loving goddesses?

_Apel._ This is shee that hath power to command the very affections
of the heart.

_Camp._ How is she hired,--by prayer, by sacrifice, or bribes?

_Apel._ By prayer, sacrifice, and bribes. 35

_Camp._ What prayer?

_Apel._ Vowes irrevocable.

_Camp._ What sacrifice?

_Apel._ Hearts ever sighing, never dissembling.

_Camp._ What bribes? 40

_Apel._ Roses and kisses. But were you never in love?

_Camp._ No; nor love in me.

_Apel._ Then have you injuried many.

_Camp._ How so?

_Apel._ Because you have been loved of many. 45

_Camp._ Flattered, perchance, of some.

_Apel._ It is not possible that a face so faire and a wit so sharpe,
both without comparison, should not be apt to love.

_Camp._ If you begin to tip your tongue with cunning, I pray dip
your pensill in colours and fall to that you must doe, not that you 50
would doe.

Actus tertius. Scæna tertia.[875]

[_Enter_] CLYTUS [_and_] PARMENIO.

_Clytus._ Parmenio, I cannot tell how it commeth to passe that in
Alexander now a dayes there groweth an unpatient kind of life:
in the morning he is melancholy, at noone solemne, at all times
either more sowre or severe than hee was accustomed.

_Par._ In kings causes I rather love to doubt[876] than conjecture, 5
and thinke it better to bee ignorant than inquisitive: they have
long eares and stretched armes;[877] in whose heads suspition is a
proofe, and to be accused is to be condemned.

_Clytus._ Yet betweene us there can bee no danger to find out the
cause, for that there is no malice to withstand it. It may be an
unquenchable thirst of conquering maketh him unquiet; it is not 10
unlikely his long ease hath altered his humour; that he should be
in love, it is not[878] impossible.

_Par._ In love, Clytus? No, no; it is as farre from his thought
as treason in ours. He, whose ever-waking eye, whose never-tired 15
heart, whose body patient of labour, whose mind unsatiable of
victorie, hath alwayes beene noted, cannot so soone be melted into
the weake conceits of love. Aristotle told him there were many
worlds; and that he hath not conquered one that gapeth for all
galleth Alexander. But here he cometh. 20

[_Enter_ ALEXANDER _and_ HEPHESTION.]

_Alex._ Parmenio and Clytus, I would have you both readie to
goe into Persia about an ambassage no lesse profitable to me than
to your selves honourable.

_Clytus._ Wee are readie at all commands, wishing nothing else
but continually to be commanded. 25

_Alex._ Well then, withdraw yourselves till I have further considered
of this matter. _Exeunt Clytus and Parmenio._

Now wee will see how Apelles goeth forward. I doubt mee that
nature hath overcome art, and her countenance his cunning.

_Hep._ You love, and therefore think any thing. 30

_Alex._ But not so farre in love with Campaspe as with
Bucephalus,[879] if occasion serve either of conflict or[880]
conquest.

_Hep._ Occasion cannot want if will doe not. Behold all Persia
swelling in the pride of their owne power, the Scythians carelesse
what courage or fortune can do, the Egyptians dreaming in the 35
southsayings of their augures and gaping over the smoake of their
beasts intralls. All these, Alexander, are to be subdued, if that
world be not slipped out of your head which you have sworne to
conquer with that hand.

_Alex._ I confesse the labour's fit for Alexander, and yet
recreation necessarie among so many assaults, bloudie wounds, 40
intolerable troubles. Give me leave a little, if not to sit, yet
to breath. And doubt not but Alexander can, when hee will, throw
affections as farre from him as he can cowardise. But behold
Diogenes talking with one at his tub.[881] 45

_Crysus._ One penny, Diogenes; I am a Cynicke.

_Diog._ Hee made thee a begger that first gave thee any thing.

_Crysus._ Why, if thou wilt give nothing, no bodie will give thee.

_Diog._ I want nothing till the springs drie and the earth perish.

_Crysus._ I gather for the gods. 50

_Diog._ And I care not for those gods which want money.

_Crysus._ Thou art not a right[882] Cynick, that wilt give nothing.

_Diog._ Thou art not, that wilt begge any thing.

_Crysus_ [_crossing to Alexander_]. Alexander! King Alexander!
Give a poore Cynick a groat.[883] 55

_Alex._ It is not for a king to give a groat.

_Crysus._ Then give me a talent.[884]

_Alex._ It is not for a begger to aske a talent. Away! [_Exit
Crysus. Alexander crosses to the part of the stage opposite the tub of
Diogenes where Apelles and Campaspe are._] 60
Apelles![885]

_Apel._ Here.

_Alex._ Now, gentlewoman, doth not your beautie put the painter
to his trumpe?

_Camp._ Yes, my lord, seeing so disordered a countenance, hee
feareth hee shall shadow a deformed counterfeite. 65

_Alex._ Would he could colour the life with the feature! And mee
thinketh, Apelles, were you as cunning as report saith you are,
you may paint flowres as well with sweet smels as fresh colours,
observing in your mixture such things as should draw neere to their
savours. 70

_Apel._ Your Majestie must know, it is no lesse hard to paint
savours than vertues; colours can neither speake nor thinke.

_Alex._ Where doe you first begin when you draw any picture?

_Apel._ The proportion of the face in just compasse as I can.

_Alex._ I would begin with the eye, as a light to all the rest. 75

_Apel._ If you will paint, as you are a king, Your Majestie may
beginne where you please; but as you would bee a painter, you
must begin with the face.

_Alex._ Aurelius[886] would in one houre colour foure faces.

_Apel._ I marvaile in halfe an houre hee did not foure. 80

_Alex._ Why, is it so easie?

_Apel._ No; but he doth it so homely.

_Alex._ When will you finish Campaspe?

_Apel._ Never finish; for alwayes in absolute beauty there is
somewhat above art. 85

_Alex._ Why should not I by labour be as cunning as Apelles?

_Apel._ God shield you should have cause to be so cunning[887] as
Apelles!

_Alex._ Me thinketh foure colours are sufficient to shadow any
countenance; and so it was in the time of Phydias.[888] 90

_Apel._ Then had men fewer fancies and women not so many
favours.[889] For now, if the haire of her eyebrowes be blacke,
yet must the haire of her head be yellow;[890] the attire of her
head must bee different from the habit of her bodie, else would the
picture seeme like the blazon of ancient armory,[891] not like the
sweet delight of new-found amiablenesse.[892] For, as in garden 95
knots[893] diversitie of odours make a more sweete savour, or as
in musique divers strings cause a more delicate consent,[894] so,
in painting, the more colours, the better counterfeit,--observing
black for a ground, and the rest for grace. 100

_Alex._ Lend me thy pensill, Apelles; I will paint, and thou shalt
judge.

_Apel._ Here.

_Alex._ The coale[895] breakes.

_Apel._ You leane too hard. 105

_Alex._ Now it blackes not.

_Apel._ You leane too soft.

_Alex._ This is awrie.

_Apel._ Your eye goeth not with your hand.

_Alex._ Now it is worse. 110

_Apel._ Your hand goeth not with your minde.

_Alex._ Nay, if all be too hard or soft,--so many rules and regards
that ones hand, ones eye, ones minde must all draw together,--I had
rather bee setting of a battell than blotting of a boord.[896] But
how have I done here? 115

_Apel._ Like a king.

_Alex._ I thinke so; but nothing more unlike a painter.[897] Well,
Apelles, Campaspe is finished as I wish. Dismisse her, and bring
presently her counterfeit after me.

_Apel._ I will. 120

_Alex._ [_as he crosses the stage._] Now, Hephestion, doth not this
matter cotton as I would?[898] Campaspe looketh pleasantly; libertie
will encrease her beautie, and my love shall advance her honour.

_Hep._ I will not contrarie your Majestie; for time must weare
out that love hath wrought, and reason weane what appetite nursed. 125
[_Campaspe passes on her way to the farther door._]

_Alex._ How stately shee passeth by, yet how soberly, a sweete
consent in her countenance, with a chaste disdaine, desire mingled
with coynesse, and--I cannot tell how to terme it--a curst, yeelding
modesty![899]

_Hep._ Let her passe. 130

_Alex._ So shee shall for the fairest on the earth!

_Exeunt_ [_Alexander and Hephestion at one side of the stage, Apelles at the other._]

Actus tertius. Scæna quarta.[900]

[_Enter_] PSYLLUS [_and_] MANES.

_Psyllus._ I shall be hanged for tarrying so long.

_Manes._ I pray God my master be not flowne before I come!
[_Enter Apelles._]

_Psyllus._ Away, Manes, my master doth come. [_Exit Manes._]

_Apel._ Where have you beene all this while?

_Psyllus._ Nowhere but here. 5

_Apel._ Who was here sithens my comming?

_Psyllus._ Nobodie.

_Apel._ Ungracious wag, I perceive you have beene a loytering! Was
Alexander nobodie?

_Psyllus._ He was a king, I meant no mean bodie. 10

_Apel._ I will cudgell your bodie for it, and then will I say it
was no bodie, because it was no honest bodie. Away, in! _Exit
Psyllus._ Unfortunate Apelles, and therefore unfortunate because
Apelles! Hast thou by drawing her beautie brought to passe that
thou canst scarce draw thine owne breath? And by so much the
more hast thou increased thy care by how much the more hast 15
thou[901] shewed thy cunning? Was it not sufficient to behold the
fire and warme thee, but with Satyrus thou must kisse the fire
and burne thee? O Campaspe, Campaspe! Art must yeeld to nature,
reason to appetite, wisdome to affection! Could Pigmalion entreate
by prayer to have his ivory turned into flesh, and cannot 20
Apelles obtaine by plaints to have the picture of his love changed
to life? Is painting so farre inferiour to carving? Or dost thou,
Venus, more delight to bee hewed with chizels then shadowed with
colours? What Pigmalion, or what Pyrgoteles, or what Lysippus is
hee,[902] that ever made thy face so faire or spread thy fame 25
so farre as I? Unlesse, Venus, in this thou enviest mine art, that
in colouring my sweet Campaspe I have left no place by cunning to
make thee so amiable.[903] But, alas, shee is the paramour to a
prince! Alexander, the monarch of the earth, hath both her body and
affection. For what is it that kings cannot obtaine by prayers, 30
threats, and promises? Will not shee thinke it better to sit under
a cloth of estate[904] like a queene than in a poore shop like a
huswife, and esteeme it sweeter to be the concubine of the lord of
the world than spouse to a painter in Athens? Yes, yes, Apelles,
thou maist swimme against the streame with the crab, and feede 35
against the winde with the deere, and peck against the steele with
the cockatrice:[905] starres are to be looked at, not reached at;
princes to be yeelded unto, not contended with; Campaspe to be
honoured, not obtained; to be painted, not possessed of thee. O
faire face! O unhappy hand! And why didst thou drawe it--so 40
faire a face? O beautifull countenance, the expres image of Venus,
but somwhat fresher, the only patterne of that eternitie which
Jupiter dreaming, asleepe, could not conceive againe waking! Blush,
Venus, for I am ashamed to ende thee! Now must I paint things
unpossible for mine art but agreeable with my affections,--deepe 45
and hollow sighes, sad and melancholie thoughtes, woundes and
slaughters of conceits, a life posting to death, a death galloping
from life, a wavering constancie, an unsetled resolution, and
what not, Apelles? And what but Apelles?[906] But as they that
are shaken with a feaver are to be warmed with cloathes, not 50
groanes, and as he that melteth in a consumption is to be recured
by colices,[907] not conceits, so the feeding canker of my care,
the never-dying worme of my heart, is to be killed by counsell,
not cries, by applying of remedies, not by replying of reasons.
And sith in cases desperate there must be used medicines that
are extreame, I will hazard that little life that is left, to 55
restore the greater part that is lost; and this shall be my first
practise,--for wit must worke where authoritie is not,--as soone as
Alexander hath viewed this portraiture, I will by devise give it a
blemish, that by that meanes she may come againe to my shop; and
then as good it were to utter my love and die with deniall as 60
conceale it and live in dispaire.

SONG BY APELLES.

Cupid and my Campaspe playd
At cardes for kisses; Cupid payd.
He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows, 65
His mothers doves, and teeme of sparows;
Looses them, too. Then, downe he throwes
The corrall of his lippe, the rose
Growing on's cheek,--but none knows how,--
With these, the cristall of his brow, 70
And then the dimple of his chinne;
All these did my Campaspe winne.
At last, hee set her both his eyes;
Shee won, and Cupid blind did rise.
O love! has shee done this to thee? 75
What shall, alas, become of mee? [_Exit Apelles._]

Actus quartus. Scæna prima.[908]

[_Enter_] SOLINUS, PSYLLUS, [_and_] GRANICHUS.[909]

_Sol._ This is the place, the day, the time, that Diogenes hath
appointed to flie.

_Psyllus._ I will not loose the flight of so faire a foule as Diogenes
is though my master cudgell my no body as he threatned.

_Gran._ What, Psyllus, will the beast wag his wings to day? 5
[_Enter Manes._]

_Psyllus._ Wee shall heare; for here commeth Manes. Manes, will it be?

_Manes._ Be? He were best be as cunning as a bee, or else shortly he
will not bee at all.

_Gran._ How is hee furnished to flie? Hath he feathers? 10

_Manes._ Thou art an asse! Capons, geese, and owles, have feathers. He
hath found Dedalus old waxen wings,[910] and hath beene peecing them
this moneth, he is so broad in the shoulders. O, you shall see him cut
the ayre even like a tortoys!

_Sol._ Me thinkes so wise a man should not bee so mad; his body 15
must needs be too heavie.

_Manes._ Why, hee hath eaten nothing this seven night but corke and
feathers.

_Psyllus_ [_aside_]. Touch him,[911] Manes.

_Manes._ Hee is so light that hee can scarce keepe him from flying 20
at midnight. _Populus intrat._

_Manes._ See they begin to flocke, and, behold, my master bustels
himselfe to flie. [_They draw nearer the tub._]

_Diog._[912] You wicked and bewitched Athenians, whose bodies
make the earth to groane, and whose breathes infect the ayre
with stench, come ye to see Diogenes flie? Diogenes commeth 25
to see you sinke. Yea,[913] call me dogge! So I am, for I long
to gnaw the bons in your skins. Yee tearme me an hater of men!
No, I am a hater of your manners. Your lives, dissolute, not
fearing death, will prove your deaths desperat, not hoping for
life. What do you else in Athens but sleepe in the day and 30
surfeit in the night,--backe-gods in the morning with pride, in
the evening belly-gods with gluttony! You flatter kings, and call
them gods. Speak truth of your selves and confesse you are divels!
From the bee you have taken, not the honey, but the wax, to make
your religion, framing it to the time, not to the truth. Your 35
filthy lust you colour under a courtly colour of love, injuries
abroad under the title of policies at home; and secret malice
creepeth under the name of publike justice. You have caused
Alexander to drie up springs and plant vines, to sow rocket and
weed endiff,[914] to sheare sheepe, and shrine[915] foxes. All
conscience is sealed[916] at Athens: swearing commeth of a 40
hot mettle; lying of a quick wit; flattery of a flowing tongue;
undecent talke of a merry disposition. All things are lawfull at
Athens: either you think there are no gods, or I must think ye are
no men. You build as though you should live for ever and surfeit as
though you should die to morrowe. None teacheth true philosophie 45
but Aristotle, because hee was the kings schoole-master! O times!
O men! O corruption in manners! Remember that greene grasse must
turne to drie hay. When you sleepe, you are not sure to wake; and
when you rise, not certaine to lie downe. Looke you never so 50
high, your heads must lie level with your feet. Thus have I flowne
over[917] your disordered lives; and if you will not amend your
manners, I will studie to flie further from you, that I may bee
neerer to honestie.[918]

_Sol._ Thou ravest, Diogenes, for thy life is different from thy 55
words. Did not I see thee come out of a brothell house? Was it
not a shame?

_Diog._ It was no shame to goe out, but a shame to goe in.

_Gran._ It were a good deede, Manes, to beate thy master.

_Manes._ You were as good eate my master. 60

_One of the People._ Hast thou made us all fooles, and wilt thou not
flie?

_Diog._ I tell thee, unlesse thou be honest, I will flie.[919]

_People._ Dog, dog, take a bone!

_Diog._ Thy father need feare no dogs, but dogs thy father.[920] 65

_People._ We will tell Alexander that thou reprovest him behinde
his back.

_Diog._ And I will tell him that you flatter him before his face.

_People._ Wee will cause all the boyes in the streete to hisse at
thee.

_Diog._ Indeede, I thinke the Athenians have their children readie 70
for any vice, because they bee Athenians.
[_Exeunt Populus and Solinus._]

_Manes._ Why, master, meane you not to flie?

_Diog._ No, Manes, not without wings.

_Manes._ Everybody will account you a lyar.

_Diog._ No, I warrant you, for I will alwayes say the Athenians 75
are mischevous.

_Psyllus._ I care not; it was sport enough for mee to see these old
huddles[921] hit home.

_Gran._ Nor I.

_Psyllus._ Come, let us goe; and hereafter when I meane to rayle 80
upon any body openly, it shall bee given out, I will flie. _Exeunt._

Actus quartus. Scæna secunda.[922]

[_Enter_] CAMPASPE.[923]

_Camp. sola._ Campaspe, it is hard to judge whether thy choyce be
more unwise or thy chance unfortunate. Doest thou preferre--but
stay, utter not that in wordes which maketh thine eares to glow
with thoughts. Tush, better thy tongue wagge than thy heart
breake! Hath a painter crept further into thy minde than a 5
prince;--Apelles, than Alexander? Fond wench, the basenes of thy
minde bewraies the meannesse of thy birth. But, alas, affection is
a fire which kindleth as well[924] in the bramble as in the oake,
and catcheth hold where it first lighteth, not where it may best
burne. Larkes, that mount aloft in the ayre, build their neasts 10
below in the earth; and women that cast their eyes upon kings may
place their hearts upon vassals. A needle will become thy fingers
better than a lute, and a distaffe is fitter for thy hand than a
scepter. Antes live safely till they have gotten wings, and juniper
is not blowne up till it hath gotten an high top: the meane estate
is without care as long as it continueth without pride. [_Enter 15
Apelles._] But here commeth Apelles, in whom I would there were the
like affection.

_Apel._ Gentlewoman, the misfortune I had with your picture will
put you to some paines to sit againe to be painted. 20

_Camp._ It is small paines for mee to sit still, but infinite for you
to draw still.

_Apel._ No, madame; to painte Venus was a pleasure, but to
shadow the sweete face of Campaspe, it is a heaven!

_Camp._ If your tongue were made of the same flesh that your 25
heart is, your words would bee as your thoughts are; but, such a
common thing it is amongst you to commend that oftentimes for
fashion sake you call them beautifull whom you know blacke.

_Apel._ What might men doe to be beleeved?

_Camp._ Whet their tongue on their hearts. 30

_Apel._ So they doe, and speake as they thinke.

_Camp._ I would they did!

_Apel._ I would they did not!

_Camp._ Why, would you have them dissemble?

_Apel._ Not in love, but their love.[925] But will you give mee 35
leave to aske you a question without offence?

_Camp._ So that you will answere mee another without excuse.

_Apel._ Whom doe you love best in the world?

_Camp._ He that made me last in the world.

_Apel._ That was a god. 40

_Camp._ I had thought it had beene a man. But whom doe you
honour most, Apelles?

_Apel._ The thing that is likest you, Campaspe.

_Camp._ My picture?

_Apel._ I dare not venture upon your person. But come, let us 45
go in: for Alexander will thinke it long till we returne. _Exeunt._

Actus quartus. Scæna tertia.[926]

[_Enter_] CLYTUS [_and_] PARMENIO.

_Clytus._ We heare nothing of our embassage,--a colour[927]
belike to bleare our eyes or tickle our eares or inflame our
hearts. But what doth Alexander in the meane season but use for
_tantara_,--_sol_, _fa_, _la_;[928] for his hard couch, downe beds;
for his handfull of water, his standing-cup of wine?[929] 5

_Par._ Clytus, I mislike this new delicacie and pleasing peace, for
what else do we see now than a kind of softnes in every mans minde:
bees to make their hives in souldiers helmets;[930] our steeds
furnished with footclothes of gold, insteede of sadles of steele; more
time to be required to scowre the rust of our weapons than there 10
was wont to be in subduing the countries of our enemies. Sithence
Alexander fell from his hard armour to his soft robes, behold the
face of his court: youths that were wont to carry devises of victory
in their shields engrave now posies of love in their ringes; they
that were accustomed on trotting horses to charge the enemie with 15
a launce, now in easie coches ride up and down to court ladies; in
steade of sword and target to hazard their lives, use pen and paper to
paint their loves; yea, such a feare and faintnesse is growne in court
that they wish rather to heare the blowing of a horne to hunt than the
sound of a trumpet to fight. O Philip, wert thou alive to see this 20
alteration,--thy men turned to women, thy souldiers to lovers, gloves
worne in velvet caps,[931] in stead of plumes in graven helmets,--thou
wouldest either dye among them for sorrow or counfound[932] them for
anger.

_Clytus._ Cease, Parmenio, least in speaking what becommeth thee 25
not, thou feele what liketh thee not: truth is never with out a
scracht face; whose tongue although it cannot be cut out, yet
must it be tied up.

_Par._ It grieveth me not a little for Hephestion, who thirsteth
for honour, not ease; but such is his fortune and neernesse in 30
friendship to Alexander that hee must lay a pillow under his head
when hee would put a target in his hand. But let us draw in, to
see how well it becomes them to tread the measures in a daunce[933]
that were wont to set the order for a march. _Exeunt._

Actus quartus. Scæna quarta.[934]

[_Enter_] APELLES [_and_] CAMPASPE.

_Apel._ I have now, Campaspe, almost made an ende.

_Camp._ You told mee, Apelles, you would never end.

_Apel._ Never end my love, for it shal be[935] eternall.

_Camp._ That is, neither to have beginning nor ending.

_Apel._ You are disposed to mistake; I hope you do not mistrust. 5

_Camp._ What will you say, if Alexander perceive your love?

_Apel._ I will say it is no treason to love.

_Camp._ But how if hee will not suffer thee to see my person?

_Apel._ Then will I gaze continually on thy picture.

_Camp._ That will not feede thy heart. 10

_Apel._ Yet shall it fill mine eye. Besides, the sweet thoughts,
the sure hopes, thy protested faith, wil cause me to embrace thy
shadow continually in mine armes, of the which by strong imagination
I will make a substance.

_Camp._ Wel, I must be gone. But this assure your selfe, that I
had rather be in thy shop grinding colours than in Alexander's 15
court following higher fortunes. [_As she crosses the stage_[936]]
Foolish wench, what hast thou done? That, alas, which cannot be
undone; and therefore I feare me undone. But content is such a
life; I care not for aboundance. O Apelles, thy love commeth from
the heart but Alexander's from the mouth! The love of kings is 20
like the blowing of winds, which whistle sometimes gently among
the leaves and straight waies turne the trees up by the rootes;
or fire, which warmeth afarre off, and burneth neere hand; or the
sea, which maketh men hoise their sailes in a flattering calme,
and to cut their mastes in a rough storme. They place affection 25
by times, by policy, by appoyntment. If they frowne, who dares
call them unconstant; if bewray secrets, who will tearme them
untrue; if fall to other loves, who trembles not, if hee call them
unfaithfull? In kings there can bee no love but to queenes; for as
neere must they meete in majestie as they doe in affection. It 30
is requisite to stand aloofe from kings love, Jove, and lightening.
_Exit._

_Apel._[937] Now, Apelles, gather thy wits together. Campaspe is
no lesse wise then faire; thy selfe must be no lesse cunning then
faithfull.[938] It is no small matter to be rivall with Alexander. 35

[_Enter_ PAGE _of_ ALEXANDER.]

_Page._ Apelles, you must come away quickly with the picture
the king thinketh that now you have painted it, you play with it.

_Apel._ If I would play with pictures, I have enough at home.

_Page._ None, perhaps, you like so well.

_Apel._ It may be I have painted none so well. 40

_Page._ I have knowen many fairer faces.

_Apel._ And I many better boyes. _Exeunt._

Actus quintus. Scæna prima.[939]

[_Enter_] SYLVIUS, PERIM, MILO, TRICO, [_and_] MANES. [DIOGENES _in his
tub_.][940]

_Syl._ I have brought my sons, Diogenes, to be taught of thee.

_Diog._ What can thy sonnes do?

_Syl._ You shall see their qualities. Dance, sirha!
_Then Perim danceth._
How like you this? Doth he well?

_Diog._ The better, the worser.[941] 5

_Syl._ The musicke very good.

_Diog._ The musitions very bad, who onely study to have their
strings in tune, never framing their manners to order.

_Syl._ Now shall you see the other. Tumble, sirha!
_Milo tumbleth._
How like you this? Why do you laugh? 10

_Diog._ To see a wagge that was borne to breake his neck by
destinie to practise it by art.

_Milo._ This dogge will bite me; I will not be with him.

_Diog._ Feare not boy; dogges eate no thistles.

_Perim._ I marvell what dogge thou art, if thou be a dogge. 15

_Diog._ When I am hungry, a mastife; and when my belly is full, a
spannell.

_Syl._ Dost thou beleeve[942] that there are any gods, that thou art
so dogged?

_Diog._ I must needs beleeve there are gods, for I thinke thee an 20
enemie to them.

_Syl._ Why so?

_Diog._ Because thou hast taught one of thy sonnes to rule his legges
and not to follow learning, the other to bend his bodie every way and
his minde no way. 25

_Perim._ Thou doest nothing but snarle and barke, like a dogge.

_Diog._ It is the next[943] way to drive away a theefe.

_Syl._ Now shall you heare the third, who sings like a nightingale.

_Diog._ I care not; for I have a nightingale to sing[944] her selfe.

_Syl._ Sing, sirha! 30

TRYCO _singeth_.

SONG.[945]

What[946] bird so sings yet so dos wayle?
O 'tis the ravish'd[947] nightingale.
"Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu," shee cryes;
And still her woes at midnight rise.
Brave prick song,[948] who is't now we heare? 35
None but the larke so shrill and cleare.
How at heavens gats[949] she claps her wings,
The morne not waking till shee sings!
Heark, heark, with what a pretty throat
Poore Robin Red-breast tunes his note! 40
Heark how the jolly cuckoes sing
"Cuckoe," to welcome in the spring;
"Cuckoe," to welcome in the spring.

_Syl._ Loe, Diogenes! I am sure thou canst not doe so much.

_Diog._ But there is never a thrush but can. 45

_Syl._ What hast thou taught Manes, thy man?

_Diog._ To be as unlike as may be thy sons.

_Manes._ He hath taught me to fast, lie hard, and run away.

_Syl._ How sayest thou, Perim, wilt thou bee with him?

_Perim._ I, so he will teach me first to runne away. 50

_Diog._ Thou needest not be taught, thy legges are so nimble.

_Syl._ How sayest thou, Milo, wilt thou be with him?

_Diog._ Nay, hold your peace; hee shall not.

_Syl._ Why?

_Diog._ There is not roome enough for him and me to tumble both in 55
one tub.

_Syl._ Well, Diogenes, I perceive my sonnes brooke not thy manners.

_Diog._ I thought no lesse, when they knew my vertues.

_Syl._ Farewell, Diogenes; thou neededst not have scraped rootes, 60
if thou wouldst have followed Alexander.

_Diog._ Nor thou have followed Alexander, if thou hadst scraped
rootes.[950] _Exeunt_ [_all except Diogenes._]

Actus quintus. Scæna secunda.[951]

[_Enter_ APELLES.[952]]

_Apel._ I feare mee, Apelles, that thine eyes have blabbed that
which thy tongue durst not! What little regard hadst thou! Whilest
Alexander viewed the counterfeit of Campaspe, thou stoodest gazing
on her countenance. If he espie or but suspect, thou must needs
twice perish,--with his hate and thine owne love. Thy pale lookes 5
when he blushed, thy sad countenance when he smiled, thy sighes
when he questioned, may breed in him a jelousie, perchance a
frenzie. O love! I never before knew what thou wert, and now hast
thou made me that I know not what my selfe am! Onely this I know,
that I must endure intolerable passions for unknowne pleasures. 10
Dispute not the cause, wretch, but yeeld to it; for better it is
to melt with desire than wrastle with love. Cast thy selfe on thy
carefull bed; be content to live unknown, and die unfound.[953] O
Campaspe, I have painted thee in my heart! Painted? Nay, contrary
to mine arte, imprinted; and that in such deepe characters that 15
nothing can rase it out, unlesse it rubbe my[954] heart out. _Exit._

Actus quintus. Scæna tertia.[955]

[_Enter_] MILECTUS, PHRYGIUS, [_and_] LAIS.[956] [DIOGENES _is in his
tub_.]

_Mil._ It shall goe hard but this peace shall bring us some pleasure.

_Phry._ Downe with armes, and up with legges! This is a world for the
nonce![957]