ALEXANDER

Is it a Band of stubborn Souldi rs Captain? Philoxenus We thank thee! Yet hark! There is a secr to we would know of thee, And you must tell Us: on your faith you must. Nay, no Court oil (by your leave) no flattery We are but man, this very trun ke of ours, Is but a Vessel filled with human bloo And we trust not that Parasite Like I in non-Latin alphabet . All the destroying vices of frail man, I may be subject to, but what base looseness, Or supple Luxury, didst thou ere obscure So to benumne our sense, that thou shouldst think We could be pleased with such effeminate Presents, * Know sir our eyes shall have that abstinence er That will not look on them, on boys, of women, Exit Phi . Hence then, and present some coward with them, Give me a spectacle would please the Gods, And make them bend their Ivory brows to the Earth, A man, a Soldier, trong with his wounds, amongst fate and ruin, upright and unshaped, His mind eing all his guard, his wall, and armour, And if he fallen, till noble wrath remains, In his amazed Trunk: not ll the darts Stuck in his sides, making him a one wound, A right his courage, but wrath lending weapons, Himself does seem a new and horrid War, Nor are those Milksops which beguile the time, With tealing minutes from their Ladies lips Such as the Gods do love; foras the Wind Loses it's force, if it be not opposed With woods of strong and stubborn planted trees So virtue, if it uva ke in trodden paths That breaks up honours gap, and makes the way Through paths of death, that flame burns strong Which is resisted: valour hines in wrong: Of Alexanders Soldiers be this said, War was a peace, when he the army led. in non-Latin alphabet Most fortunate young man, whose worth is crowned With everlasting Trophies of renown, How hath he set thee on the wings of Fame Which soar i'th middle region of high glory Proposed to all, a never dying story.