TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT

Part the Second

By Christopher Marlowe

1587

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

Tamburlaine, King of Persia.

     Zenocrate, wife to Tamburlaine.

Tamburlaine’s sons:

Calyphas.

     Perdicas, Servant to Calyphas.

Amyras.

Celebinus.

Tamburlaine’s Kings:

Techelles, King of Fez.

Theridamas, King of Argier.

Usumcasane, King of Morocco.

Other Kings:

Orcanes, King of Natolia.

King of Trebizond.

King of Soria.

King of Jerusalem.

King of Amasia.

Gazellus, Viceroy of Byron.

Uribassa.

Sigismund, King of Hungary.

Lords of Buda and Bohemia:

Frederick.

Baldwin.

Callapine, son to Bajazeth.

Almeda, his Keeper.

Captain of Balsera.

     Olympia, wife of the Captain of Balsera.

     His Son.

Maximus.

Physicians.

Another Captain.

Lords, Citizens, Soldiers, Turkish Concubines, &c.

THE PROLOGUE.

 

The general welcomes Tamburlaine received,

When he arrivèd last upon the stage,

Hath made our poet pen his Second Part,

Where death cuts off the progress of his pomp,

And murderous fates throw all his triumphs down.

But what became of fair Zenocrate,

And with how many cities' sacrifice

He celebrated her sad funeral,

Himself in presence shall unfold at large.

ACT I.

SCENE I.

Enter Orcanes, King of Natolia,

Gazellus, Viceroy of Byron,

Uribassa, and their Train, with drums and trumpets.

Orc.  Egregious viceroys of these eastern parts,

Placed by the issue of great Bajazeth,

And sacred lord, the mighty Callapine,

Who lives in Egypt, prisoner to that slave

Which kept his father in an iron cage; −

Now have we marched from fair Natolia

Two hundred leagues, and on Danubius' banks

Our warlike host, in complete armour, rest,

Where Sigismund, the king of Hungary,

Should meet our person to conclude a truce.

What! Shall we parley with the Christiän,

Or cross the stream, and meet him in the field?

Gaz.  King of Natolia, let us treat of peace;

We are all glutted with the Christians' blood,

And have a greater foe to fight against, −

Proud Tamburlaine, that, now in Asiä,

Near Guyron's head doth set his conquering feet,

And means to fire Turkey as he goes.

'Gainst him, my lord, must you address your power.

Urib.  Besides, King Sigismund hath brought from Christendom

More than his camp of stout Hungarians −

Sclavonians, Almain rutters, Muffes, and Danes,

That with the halberd, lance, and murdering axe,

Will hazard that we might with surety hold.

Orc.  Though from the shortest northern parallel,

Vast Grantland, compassed with the Frozen Sea,

(Inhabited with tall and sturdy men,

Giants as big as hugy Polypheme,)

Millions of soldiers cut the arctic line,

Bringing the strength of Europe to these arms,

Our Turkey blades shall glide through all their throats,

And make this champion mead a bloody fen.

Danubius' stream, that runs to Trebizond,

Shall carry, wrapped within his scarlet waves,

As martial presents to our friends at home,

The slaughtered bodies of these Christiäns.

The Terrene Main, wherein Danubius' falls,

Shall by this battle be the Bloody Sea.

The wandering sailors of proud Italy

Shall meet those Christians, fleeting with the tide,

Beating in heaps against their argosies,

And make fair Europe, mounted on her bull,

Trapped with the wealth and riches of the world,

Alight, and wear a woeful mourning weed.

Gaz.  Yet, stout Orcanes, Prorex of the world,

Since Tamburlaine hath mustered all his men,

Marching from Cairo northward with his camp,

To Alexandria and the frontier towns,

Meaning to make a conquest of our land,

'Tis requisite to parley for a peace

With Sigismund, the King of Hungary,

And save our forces for the hot assaults

Proud Tamburlaine intends Natolia.

Orc.  Viceroy of Byron, wisely hast thou said.

My realm, the centre of our empery,

Once lost, all Turkey would be overthrown,

And for that cause the Christians shall have peace.

Sclavonians, Almain rutters, Muffes, and Danes,

Fear not Orcanes, but great Tamburlaine;

Nor he, but Fortune, that hath made him great.

We have revolted Grecians, Albanese,

Sicilians, Jews, Arabians, Turks, and Moors,

Natolians, Syrians, black Egyptiäns,

Illyrians, Thracians, and Bithynians,

Enough to swallow forceless Sigismund,

Yet scarce enough t' encounter Tamburlaine.

He brings a world of people to the field,

From Scythia to the oriental plage

Of India, where raging Lantchidol

Beats on the regions with his boisterous blows,

That never seaman yet discoverèd.

All Asia is in arms with Tamburlaine,

Even from the midst of fiery Cancer's tropic,

To Amazonia under Capricorn,

And thence as far as Archipelago,

All Afric is in arms with Tamburlaine;

Therefore, viceroy, the Christians must have peace.

Enter Sigismund, Frederick, Baldwin,

and their Train, with drums and trumpets.

Sigis.  Orcanes, (as our legates promised thee,)

We, with our peers, have crossed Danubius' stream

To treat of friendly peace or deadly war.

Take which thou wilt, for as the Romans used,

I here present thee with a naked sword;

Wilt thou have war, then shake this blade at me;

If peace, restore it to my hands again,

And I will sheathe it to confirm the same.

Orc.  Stay, Sigismund. Forget'st thou I am he

That with the cannon shook Vienna walls,

And made it dance upon the continent,

As when the massy substance of the earth

Quiver about the axle-tree of Heaven?

Forget'st thou that I sent a shower of darts,

Mingled with powdered shot and feathered steel,

So thick upon the blink-eyed burghers' heads,

That thou thyself, then county palatine,

The King of Boheme, and the Austric Duke,

Sent heralds out, which basely on their knees,

In all your names, desired a truce of me?

Forget'st thou that to have me raise my siege,

Wagons of gold were set before my tents,

Stamped with the princely fowl, that in her wings

Carries the fearful thunderbolts of Jove?

How canst thou think of this, and offer war?

Sigis.  Vienna was besieged, and I was there,

Then county palatine, but now a king,

And what we did was in extremity.

But now, Orcanes, view my royal host

That hides these plains, and seems as vast and wide,

As doth the desert of Arabia

To those that stand on Bagdet's lofty tower;

Or as the ocean to the traveller

That rests upon the snowy Apennines;

And tell me whether I should stoop so low,

Or treat of peace with the Natolian king.

Gaz.  Kings of Natolia and of Hungary,

We came from Turkey to confirm a league,

And not to dare each other to the field.

A friendly parley might become ye both.

Fred.   And we from Europe, to the same intent,

Which if your general refuse or scorn,

Our tents are pitched, our men stand in array,

Ready to charge you ere you stir your feet.

Orc.  So prest are we: but yet, if Sigismund

Speak as a friend, and stand not upon terms,

Here is his sword, − let peace be ratified

On these conditions, specified before,

Drawn with advice of our ambassadors.

Sigis.  Then here I sheathe it, and give thee my hand,

Never to draw it out, or manage arms

Against thyself or thy confederates,

But whilst I live will be a truce with thee.

Orc.  But, Sigismund, confirm it with an oath,

And swear in sight of Heaven and by thy Christ.

Sigis.  By him that made the world and saved my soul,

The son of God and issue of a Maid,

Sweet Jesus Christ, I solemnly protest

And vow to keep this peace inviolable.

Orc.  By sacred Mahomet, the friend of God,

Whose holy Alcoran remains with us,

Whose glorious body, when he left the world,

Closed in a coffin mounted up the air,

And hung on stately Mecca's temple roof,

I swear to keep this truce inviolable;

Of whose conditions and our solemn oaths,

Signed with our hands, each shall retain a scroll

As memorable witness of our league.

Now, Sigismund, if any Christian king

Encroach upon the confines of thy realm,

Send word, Orcanes of Natolia

Confirmed this league beyond Danubius' stream,

And they will, trembling, sound a quick retreat;

So am I feared among all nations.

Sigis.  If any heathen potentate or king

Invade Natolia, Sigismund will send

A hundred thousand horse trained to the war,

And backed by stout lanciers of Germany,

The strength and sinews of the Imperial seat.

Orc.  I thank thee, Sigismund; but, when I war,

All Asia Minor, Africa, and Greece,

Follow my standard and my thundering drums.

Come, let us go and banquet in our tents.

I will dispatch chief of my army hence

To fair Natolia and to Trebizond,

To stay my coming 'gainst proud Tamburlaine.

Friend Sigismund and peers of Hungary,

Come, banquet and carouse with us a while,

And then depart we to our territories.

[Exeunt.]

ACT I, SCENE II.

Enter Callapine with Almeda, his Keeper.

Call.  Sweet Almeda, pity the ruthful plight

Of Callapine, the son of Bajazeth,

Born to be monarch of the western world,

Yet here detained by cruèl Tamburlaine.

Alm.  My lord, I pity it, and with my heart

Wish your release; but he whose wrath is death,

My sovereign lord, renownèd Tamburlaine,

Forbids you further liberty than this.

Call.  Ah, were I now but half so eloquent

To paint in words what I'll perform in deeds,

I know thou wouldst depart from hence with me.

Alm.  Not for all Afric; therefore move me not.

Call.  Yet hear me speak, my gentle Almeda.

Alm.  No speech to that end, by your favour, sir.

Call.  By Cairo runs −

Alm.  No talk of running, I tell you, sir.

Call.  A little further, gentle Almeda.

Alm.  Well, sir, what of this?

Call.  By Cairo runs to Alexandria bay

Darote’s stream, wherein at anchor lies

A Turkish galley of my royal fleet,

Waiting my coming to the river side,

Hoping by some means I shall be released,

Which, when I come aboard, will hoist up sail,

And soon put forth into the Terrene Sea,

Where, 'twixt the isles of Cyprus and of Crete,

We quickly may in Turkish seas arrive.

Then shalt thou see a hundred kings and more,

Upon their knees, all bid me welcome home,

Amongst so many crowns of burnished gold,

Choose which thou wilt, all are at thy command;

A thousand galleys, manned with Christian slaves,

I freely give thee, which shall cut the Straits,

And bring armados from the coasts of Spain

Fraughted with gold of rich America;

The Grecian virgins shall attend on thee,

Skilful in music and in amorous lays,

As fair as was Pygmalion's ivory girl

Or lovely Iö metamorphosèd.

With naked negroes shall thy coach be drawn,

And, as thou rid'st in triumph through the streets,

The pavement underneath thy chariot wheels

With Turkey carpets shall be coverèd,

And cloth of arras hung about the walls,

Fit objects for thy princely eye to pierce.

A hundred bassoes, clothed in crimson silk,

Shall ride before thee on Barbarian steeds;

And when thou goest, a golden canopy

Enchased with precious stones, which shine as bright

As that fair veil that covers all the world,

When Phoebus, leaping from his hemisphere,

Descendeth downward to th' Antipodes,

And more than this − for all I cannot tell.

Alm.  How far hence lies the galley, say you?

Call.  Sweet Almeda, scarce half a league from hence.

Alm.  But need we not be spied going aboard?

Call.  Betwixt the hollow hanging of a hill,

And crookèd bending of a craggy rock,

The sails wrapt up, the mast and tacklings down,

She lies so close that none can find her out.

Alm.  I like that well. But tell me, my lord, if I should

let you go, would you be as good as your word? Shall

I be made a king for my labour?

Call.  As I am Callapine the Emperor,

And by the hand of Mahomet I swear

Thou shalt be crowned a king, and be my mate.

Alm.  Then here I swear, as I am Almeda,

Your keeper under Tamburlaine the Great,

(For that's the style and title I have yet,)

Although he sent a thousand armèd men

To intercept this haughty enterprise,

Yet would I venture to conduct your grace,

And die before I brought you back again.

Call.  Thanks, gentle Almeda; Then let us haste,

Lest time be past, and lingering let us both.

Alm.  When you will, my lord, I am ready.

Call.  Even straight; and farewell, cursèd Tamburlaine.

Now go I to revenge my father's death.

[Exeunt.]

ACT I, SCENE III.

Enter Tamburlaine , Zenocrate, and their three sons,

Calyphas, Amyras, and Celebinus,

with drums and trumpets.

Tamb.  Now, bright Zenocrate, the world's fair eye,

Whose beams illuminate the lamps of Heaven,

Whose cheerful looks do clear the cloudy air,

And clothe it in a crystal livery;

Now rest thee here on fair Larissa plains,

Where Egypt and the Turkish empire part,

Between thy sons, that shall be emperors,

And every one commander of a world.

Zeno.  Sweet Tamburlaine, when wilt thou leave these arms,

And save thy sacred person free from scathe,

And dangerous chances of the wrathful war?

Tamb.  When Heaven shall cease to move on both the poles,

And when the ground, whereon my soldiers march,

Shall rise aloft and touch the hornèd moon,

And not before, my sweet Zenocrate.

Sit up, and rest thee like a lovely queen;

So, now she sits in pomp and majesty,

When these, my sons, more precious in mine eyes

Than all the wealthy kingdoms I subdued,

Placed by her side, look on their mother's face

But yet methinks their looks are amorous,

Not martial as the sons of Tamburlaine:

Water and air, being symbolized in one,

Argue their want of courage and of wit;

Their hair, as white as milk, and soft as down,

(which should be like the quills of porcupines,

As black as jet, and hard as iron or steel)

Bewrays they are too dainty for the wars;

Their fingers made to quaver on a lute,

Their arms to hang about a lady's neck,

Their legs to dance and caper in the air,

Would make me think them bastards, not my sons,

But that I know they issued from thy womb,

That never looked on man but Tamburlaine.

Zeno.  My gracious lord, they have their mother's looks,

But when they list, their conquering father's heart.

This lovely boy, the youngest of the three,

Not long ago bestrid a Scythian steed,

Trotting the ring, and tilting at a glove,

Which when he tainted with his slender rod,

He reined him straight, and made him so curvet,

As I cried out for fear he should have fall'n.

Tamb.  Well done, my boy, thou shalt have shield and lance,

Armour of proof, horse, helm, and curtle-axe,

And I will teach thee how to charge thy foe,

And harmless run among the deadly pikes.

If thou wilt love the wars and follow me,

Thou shalt be made a king and reign with me,

Keeping in iron cages emperors.

If thou exceed thy elder brothers' worth,

And shine in cómplete virtue more than they,

Thou shalt be king before them, and thy seed

Shall issue crownèd from their mother's womb.

Celeb.  Yes, father: you shall see me, if I live,

Have under me as many kings as you,

And march with such a multitude of men,

As all the world shall tremble at their view.

Tamb.  These words assure me, boy, thou art my son.

When I am old and cannot manage arms,

Be thou the scourge and terror of the world.

Amyr.  Why may not I, my lord, as well as he,

Be termed the scourge and terror to the world?

Tamb.  Be all a scourge and terror to the world,

Or else you are not sons of Tamburlaine.

Caly.  But while my brothers follow arms, my lord,

Let me accompany my gracious mother;

They are enough to conquer all the world,

And you have won enough for me to keep.

Tamb.  Bastardly boy, sprung from some coward's loins,

And not the issue of great Tamburlaine!

Of all the provinces I have subdued,

Thou shalt not have a foot, unless thou bear

A mind courageous and invincible;

For he shall wear the crown of Persiä

Whose head hath deepest scars, whose breast most wounds,

Which being wroth sends lightning from his eyes,

And in the furrows of his frowning brows

Harbours revenge, war, death, and cruèlty;

For in a field, whose superficiës

Is covered with a liquid purple veil

And sprinkled with the brains of slaughtered men,

My royal chair of state shall be advanced;

And he that means to place himself therein,

Must armèd wade up to the chin in blood.

Zeno.  My lord, such speeches to our princely sons

Dismay their minds before they come to prove

The wounding troubles angry war affords.

Celeb.  No, madam, these are speeches fit for us,

For if his chair were in a sea of blood,

I would prepare a ship and sail to it,

Ere I would lose the title of a king.

Amyr.  And I would strive to swim through pools of blood,

Or make a bridge of murdered carcasses,

Whose arches should be framed with bones of Turks,

Ere I would lose the title of a king.

Tamb.  Well, lovely boys, you shall be emperors both,

Stretching your conquering arms from East to West;

And, sirrah, if you mean to wear a crown,

When we shall meet the Turkish deputy

And all his viceroys, snatch it from his head,

And cleave his pericranium with thy sword.

Caly.  If any man will hold him, I will strike

And cleave him to the channel with my sword.

Tamb.  Hold him, and cleave him too, or I'll cleave thee,

For we will march against them presently.

Theridamas, Techelles, and Casane

Promised to meet me on Larissa plains

With hosts apiece against this Turkish crew;

For I have sworn by sacred Mahomet

To make it parcel of my empery;

The trumpets sound, Zenocrate; they come.

Enter Theridamas and his Train,

with drums and trumpets.

Tamb.  Welcome Theridamas, King of Argier.

Ther.  My lord, the great and mighty Tamburlaine, −

Arch-monarch of the world, I offer here

My crown, myself, and all the power I have,

In all affection at thy kingly feet.

Tamb.  Thanks, good Theridamas.

Ther.  Under my colours march ten thousand Greeks;

And of Argier and Afric's frontier towns

Twice twenty thousand valiant men-at-arms,

All which have sworn to sack Natolia.

Five hundred brigandines are under sail,

Meet for your service on the sea, my lord,

That, launching from Argier to Tripoli,

Will quickly ride before Natolia,

And batter down the castles on the shore.

Tamb.  Well said, Argier; receive thy crown again.

Enter Techelles and Usumcasane together.

Tamb.  Kings of Morocco and of Fez, welcome.

Usum.  Magnificent and peerless Tamburlaine!

I and my neighbour king of Fez have brought

To aid thee in this Turkish expedition,

A hundred thousand expert soldiërs:

From Azamor to Tunis near the sea

Is Barbary unpeopled for thy sake,

And all the men in armour under me,

Which with my crown I gladly offer thee.

Tamb.  Thanks, king of Morocco, take your crown again.

Tech.  And, mighty Tamburlaine, our earthly god,

Whose looks make this inferior world to quake,

I here present thee with the crown of Fez,

And with an host of Moors trained to the war,

Whose coal-black faces make their foes retire,

And quake for fear, as if infernal Jove,

Meaning to aid thee in these Turkish arms,

Should pierce the black circumference of hell

With ugly Furies bearing fiery flags,

And millions of his strong tormenting spirits.

From strong Tesella unto Bilèdull,

All Barbary is unpeopled for thy sake.

Tamb.  Thanks, king of Fez; take here thy crown again.

Your presence, loving friends and fellow kings,

Makes me to surfeit in conceiving joy.

If all the crystal gates of Jove's high court

Were opened wide, and I might enter in

To see the state and majesty of Heaven,

It could not more delight me than your sight.

Now will we banquet on these plains a while,

And after march to Turkey with our camp,

In number more than are the drops that fall

When Boreas rents a thousand swelling clouds;

And proud Orcanes of Natolia

With all his viceroys shall be so afraid,

That though the stones, as at Deucalion's flood,

Were turned to men, he should be overcome.

Such lavish will I make of Turkish blood,

That Jove shall send his wingèd messenger

To bid me sheath my sword and leave the field;

The sun, unable to sustain the sight,

Shall hide his head in Thetis' watery lap,

And leave his steeds to fair Boötes' charge;

For half the world shall perish in this fight.

But now, my friends, let me examine ye;

How have ye spent your absent time from me?

Usum.  My lord, our men of Barbary have marched

Four hundred miles with armour on their backs,

And lain in leaguer fifteen months and more;

For, since we left you at the Soldan's court,

We have subdued the southern Guallatia

And all the land unto the coast of Spain;

We kept the narrow Strait of Jubaltèr,

And made Canaria call us kings and lords;

Yet never did they recreate themselves,

Or cease one day from war and hot alarms,

And therefore let them rest awhile, my lord.

Tamb.  They shall, Casane, and 'tis time, i' faith.

Tech.  And I have marched along the river Nile

To Machda, where the mighty Christian priest,

Called John the Great, sits in a milk-white robe,

Whose triple mitre I did take by force,

And made him swear obedience to my crown.

From thence unto Cazates did I march,

Where Amazonians met me in the field,

With whom (being women), I vouchsafed a league,

And with my power did march to Zanzibar,

The western part of Afric, where I viewed

The Ethiopian sea, rivers and lakes,

But neither man nor child in all the land;

Therefore I took my course to Manico,

Where, unresisted, I removed my camp;

And, by the coast of Byather, at last

I came to Cubar, where the negroes dwell,

And conquering that, made haste to Nubia.

There, having sacked Borno, the kingly seat,

I took the king and led him bound in chains

Unto Damascus, where I stayed before.

Tamb.  Well done, Techelles. What saith Theridamas?

Ther.  I left the confines and the bounds of Afric,

And made a voyage into Europe,

Where by the river Tyrosa I subdued

Stoka, Padalia, and Codemia;

Then crossed the sea and came to Oblia

And Nigra Sylva, where the devils dance,

Which in despite of them, I set on fire.

From thence I crossed the gulf called by the name

Mare Majore of the inhabitants.

Yet shall my soldiers make no period,

Until Natolia kneel before your feet.

Tamb.  Then will we triumph, banquet, and carouse;

Cooks shall have pensions to provide us cates,

And glut us with the dainties of the world;

Lachryma Christi and Calabrian wines

Shall common soldiers drink in quaffing bowls,

Ay, liquid gold (when we have conquered him)

Mingled with coral and with orient pearl.

Come, let us banquet and carouse the whiles.

[Exeunt.]

                                    ACT II.

SCENE I.

Enter Sigismund, Frederick, Baldwin,

with their trains.

Sigis.  Now say, my lords of Buda and Bohemia,

What motion is it that inflames your thoughts,

And stirs your valours to such sudden arms?

Fred.   Your majesty remembers, I am sure,

What cruèl slaughter of our Christian bloods

These heathenish Turks and pagans lately made

Betwixt the city Zula and Danubius;

How through the midst of Varna and Bulgaria,

And almost to the very walls of Rome,

They have, not long since, massacred our camp.

It resteth now, then, that your majesty

Take all advantages of time and power,

And work revenge upon these infidels.

Your highness knows, for Tamburlaine's repair,

That strikes a terror to all Turkish hearts,

Natolia hath dismissed the greatest part

Of all his army, pitched against our power,

Betwixt Cutheia and Orminius' mount,

And sent them marching up to Belgasar,

Acantha, Antioch, and Caesarea,

To aid the kings of Soria and Jerusalem.

Now then, my lord, advantage take thereof,

And issue suddenly upon the rest;

That in the fortune of their overthrow,

We may discourage all the pagan troop

That dare attempt to war with Christiäns.

Sigis.  But calls not then your grace to memory

The league we lately made with king Orcanes,

Confirmed by oath and articles of peace,

And calling Christ for record of our truths?

This should be treachery and violence

Against the grace of our professiön.

Bald.  No whit, my lord, for with such infidels,

In whom no faith nor true religion rests,

We are not bound to those accomplishments

The holy laws of Christendom enjoin;

But as the faith, which they profanely plight,

Is not by necessary policy

To be esteemed assurance for ourselves,

So what we vow to them should not infringe

Our liberty of arms and victory.

Sigis.  Though I confess the oaths they undertake

Breed little strength to our security,

Yet those infirmities that thus defame

Their faiths, their honours, and religiön,

Should not give us presumption to the like.

Our faiths are sound, and must be consummate,

Religious, righteous, and inviolate.

Fred.   Assure your grace, 'tis superstitiön

To stand so strictly on dispensive faith;

And should we lose the opportunity

That God hath given to venge our Christians' death

And scourge their foul blasphemous paganism,

As fell to Saul, to Balaam, and the rest,

That would not kill and curse at God's command,

So surely will the vengeance of the Highest,

And jealous anger of His fearful arm,

Be poured with rigour on our sinful heads,

If we neglect this offered victory.

Sigis.  Then arm, my lords, and issue suddenly,

Giving commandment to our general host,

With expedition to assail the Pagan,

And take the victory our God hath given.

[Exeunt.]

ACT II, SCENE II.

Enter Orcanes, Gazellus, and Uribassa,

with their trains.

Orc.  Gazellus, Uribassa, and the rest,

Now will we march from proud Orminius' mount

To fair Natolia, where our neighbour kings

Expect our powèr and our royal presence,

T' encounter with the cruèl Tamburlaine,

That nigh Larissa sways a mighty host,

And with the thunder of his martial tools

Makes earthquakes in the hearts of men and Heaven.

Gaz.  And now come we to make his sinews shake,

With greater power than erst his pride hath felt.

An hundred kings, by scores, will bid him arms,

And hundred thousands subjects to each score,

Which, if a shower of wounding thunderbolts

Should break out of the bowels of the clouds,

And fall as thick as hail upon our heads,

In partial aid of that proud Scythiän,

Yet should our courages and steelèd crests,

And numbers more than infinite of men,

Be able to withstand and conquer him.

Urib.  Methinks I see how glad the Christian king

Is made for joy of your admitted truce,

That could not but before be terrified

With unacquainted powèr of our host.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess.  Arm, dread sovereign, and my noble lords!

The treacherous army of the Christiäns,

Taking advantage of your slender power,

Comes marching on us, and determines straight

To bid us battle for our dearest lives.

Orc.  Traitors, villains, damnèd Christiäns!

Have I not here the articles of peace,

And solemn covenants we have both confirmed,

He by his Christ, and I by Mahomet?

Gaz.  Hell and confusion light upon their heads,

That with such treason seek our overthrow,

And care so little for their prophet, Christ!

Orc.  Can there be such deceit in Christiäns,

Or treason in the fleshly heart of man,

Whose shape is figure of the highest God?

Then, if there be a Christ, as Christians say,

But in their deeds deny him for their Christ,

If he be son to everliving Jove,

And hath the powèr of his outstretched arm;

If he be jealous of his name and honour,

As is our holy prophet, Mahomet; −

Take here these papers as our sacrifice

And witness of thy servant's perjury.

[He tears to pieces the articles of peace.]

Open, thou shining veil of Cynthia,

And make a passage from th' empyreal Heaven,

That he that sits on high and never sleeps,

Nor in one place is circumscriptible,

But everywhere fills every continent

With strange infusion of his sacred vigour,

May, in his endless power and purity,

Behold and venge this traitor's perjury! −

Thou Christ, that art esteemed omnipotent,

If thou wilt prove thyself a perfect God,

Worthy the worship of all faithful hearts,

Be now revenged upon this traitor's soul,

And make the powèr I have left behind

(too little to defend our guiltless lives,)

Sufficient to discomfort and confound

The trustless force of those false Christiäns. −

To arms, my lords! "On Christ" still let us cry!

If there be Christ, we shall have victory.

[Exeunt.]

ACT II, SCENE III.

Alarms of battle within. −Enter Sigismund, wounded.

Sigis.  Discomfited is all the Christian host,

And God hath thundered vengeance from on high,

For my accursed and hateful perjury. −

O just and dreadful punisher of sin,

Let the dishonour of the pains I feel,

In this my mortal well-deservèd wound,

End all my penance in my sudden death!

And let this death, wherein to sin I die,

Conceive a second life in endless mercy!

[He dies.]

Enter Orcanes, Gazellus, Uribassa, and others.

Orc.  Now lie the Christians bathing in their bloods,

And Christ or Mahomet hath been my friend.

Gaz.  See here the perjured traitor Hungary,

Bloody and breathless for his villainy.

Orc.  Now shall his barbarous body be a prey

To beasts and fowls, and all the winds shall breathe,

Through shady leaves of every senseless tree,

Murmurs and hisses for his heinous sin.

Now scalds his soul in the Tartarian streams,

And feeds upon the baneful tree of hell,

That Zoäcum, that fruit of bitterness,

That in the midst of fire is ingraffed,

Yet flourishes as Flora in her pride,

With apples like the heads of damnèd fiends.

The devils there, in chains of quenchless flame,

Shall lead his soul through Orcus' burning gulf,

From pain to pain, whose change shall never end.

What say'st thou yet, Gazellus, to his foil,

Which we referred to justice of his Christ,

And to his power, which here appears as full

As rays of Cynthia to the clearest sight?

Gaz.  'Tis but the fortune of the wars, my lord,

Whose power is often proved a miracle.

Orc.  Yet in my thoughts shall Christ be honourèd,

Not doing Mahomet an injury,

Whose power had share in this our victory;

And since this miscreant hath disgraced his faith,

And died a traitor both to Heaven and earth,

We will both watch and ward shall keep his trunk

Amidst these plains for fowls to prey upon.

Go, Uribassa, give it straight in charge.

Urib.  I will, my lord.

[Exit Uribassa.]

Orc.  And now, Gazellus, let us haste and meet

Our army, and our brothers of Jerusalem,

Of Soria, Trebizond, and Amasia,

And happily, with full Natolian bowls

Of Greekish wine, now let us celebrate

Our happy conquest and his angry fate.

[Exeunt.]

ACT II, SCENE IV.

Zenocrate is discovered in her bed of state,

with Tamburlaine sitting by her.

About the bed are three Physicians tempering potions.

Around are Theridamas, Techelles, Usumcasane,

and her three Sons.

Tamb.  Black is the beauty of the brightest day;

The golden ball of Heaven's eternal fire,

That danced with glory on the silver waves,

Now wants the fuèl that inflamed his beams;

And all with faintness and for foul disgrace,

He binds his temples with a frowning cloud,

Ready to darken earth with endless night.

Zenocrate, that gave him light and life,

Whose eyes shot fire from their ivory bowers,

And tempered every soul with lively heat,

Now by the malice of the angry skies,

Whose jealousy admits no second mate,

Draws in the comfort of her latest breath,

All dazzled with the hellish mists of death.

Now walk the angels on the walls of Heaven,

As sentinels to warn th' immortal souls

To entertain divine Zenocrate.

Apollo, Cynthia, and the ceaseless lamps

That gently looked upon this loathsome earth,

Shine downwards now no more, but deck the heavens

To entertain divine Zenocrate.

The crystal springs, whose taste illuminates

Refinèd eyes with an eternal sight,

Like trièd silver, run through Paradise,

To entertain divine Zenocrate.

The cherubins and holy seraphins,

That sing and play before the King of Kings,

Use all their voices and their instruments

To entertain divine Zenocrate.

And in this sweet and curious harmony,

The God that tunes this music to our souls

Holds out his hand in highest majesty

To entertain divine Zenocrate.

Then let some holy trance convey my thoughts

Up to the palace of th' empyreal Heaven,

That this my life may be as short to me

As are the days of sweet Zenocrate. −

Physicians, will no physic do her good?

Phys.  My lord, your majesty shall soon perceive:

And if she pass this fit, the worst is past.

Tamb.  Tell me, how fares my fair Zenocrate?

Zeno.  I fare, my lord, as other empresses,

That, when this frail and transitory flesh

Hath sucked the measure of that vital air

That feeds the body with his dated health,

Wane with enforced and necessary change.

Tamb.  May never such a change transform my love,

In whose sweet being I repose my life,

Whose heavenly presence, beautified with health,

Gives light to Phoebus and the fixèd stars;

Whose absence makes the sun and moon as dark

As when, opposed in one diameter,

Their spheres are mounted on the serpent's head,

Or else descended to his winding train.

Live still, my love, and so conserve my life,

Or, dying, be the author of my death!

Zeno.  Live still, my lord! O, let my sovereign live!

And sooner let the fiery element

Dissolve and make your kingdom in the sky,

Than this base earth should shroud your majesty:

For should I but suspect your death by mine,

The comfort of my future happiness,

And hope to meet your highness in the heavens,

Turned to despair, would break my wretched breast,

And fury would confound my present rest.

But let me die, my love; yet let me die;

With love and patience let your true love die!

Your grief and fury hurts my second life. −

Yet let me kiss my lord before I die,

And let me die with kissing of my lord.

But since my life is lengthened yet a while,

Let me take leave of these my loving sons,

And of my lords, whose true nobility

Have merited my latest memory.

Sweet sons, farewell! In death resemble me,

And in your lives your father's excellence.

Some music, and my fit will cease, my lord.

[They call music.]

Tamb.  Proud fury and intolerable fit,

That dares torment the body of my love,

And scourge the scourge of the immortal God!

Now are those spheres, where Cupid used to sit,

Wounding the world with wonder and with love,

Sadly supplied with pale and ghastly death,

Whose darts do pierce the centre of my soul.

Her sacred beauty hath enchanted Heaven;

And had she lived before the siege of Troy,

Helen (whose beauty summoned Greece to arms,

And drew a thousand ships to Tenedos,)

Had not been named in Homer's Iliad;

Her name had been in every line he wrote.

Or, had those wanton poets, for whose birth

Old Rome was proud, but gazed a while on her,

Nor Lesbia nor Corinna had been named;

Zenocrate had been the argument

Of every epigram or elegy.

[The music sounds.− Zenocrate dies.]

What, is she dead? Techelles, draw thy sword

And wound the earth, that it may cleave in twain,

And we descend into th' infernal vaults,

To hale the Fatal Sisters by the hair,

And throw them in the triple moat of hell,

For taking hence my fair Zenocrate.

Casane and Theridamas, to arms!

Raise cavalieros higher than the clouds,

And with the cannon break the frame of Heaven;

Batter the shining palace of the sun,

And shiver all the starry firmament,

For amorous Jove hath snatched my love from hence,

Meaning to make her stately queen of Heaven.

What god soever holds thee in his arms,

Giving thee nectar and ambrosiä,

Behold me here, divine Zenocrate,

Raving, impatient, desperate, and mad,

Breaking my steelèd lance, with which I burst

The rusty beams of Janus' temple doors,

Letting out Death and tyrannizing War,

To march with me under this bloody flag!

And if thou pitiest Tamburlaine the Great,

Come down from Heaven, and live with me again!

Ther.  Ah, good my lord, be patient; she is dead,

And all this raging cannot make her live.

If words might serve, our voice hath rent the air;

If tears, our eyes have watered all the earth;

If grief, our murdered hearts have strained forth blood;

Nothing prevails, for she is dead, my lord.

Tamb.  For she is dead!” Thy words do pierce my soul!

Ah, sweet Theridamas! say so no more;

Though she be dead, yet let me think she lives,

And feed my mind that dies for want of her. –

[To the body]

Where'er her soul be, thou shalt stay with me,

Embalmed with cassia, ambergris, and myrrh,

Not lapped in lead, but in a sheet of gold,

And till I die thou shalt not be interred.

Then in as rich a tomb as Mausolus'

We both will rest and have one epitaph

Writ in as many several languages

As I have conquered kingdoms with my sword.

This cursèd town will I consume with fire,

Because this place bereaved me of my love:

The houses, burnt, will look as if they mourned;

And here will I set up her statuä,

And march about it with my mourning camp,

Drooping and pining for Zenocrate.

[The scene closes.]

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Enter the kings of Trebizond and Soria,

one bearing a sword and the other a sceptre;

next Orcanes King of Natolia and the King of Jerusalem

with the imperial crown; after them enters Callapine,

and after him, other lords and Almeda.

Orcanes and the King of Jerusalem crown Callapine,

and the others give him the sceptre.

Orc.  Callapinus Cyricelibes, otherwise Cybelius,

son and successive heir to the late mighty emperor

Bajazeth, by the aid of God and his friend Mahomet,

Emperor of Natolia, Jerusalem, Trebizond, Soria,

Amasia, Thracia, Illyria, Carmania, and all the

hundred and thirty kingdoms late contributory to his

mighty father. Long live Callapinus, emperor of

Turkey!

Call.  Thrice worthy kings of Natolia, and the rest,

I will requite your royal gratitudes

With all the benefits my empire yields;

And were the sinews of th' imperial seat

So knit and strengthened as when Bajazeth,

My royal lord and father, filled the throne,

Whose cursèd fate hath so dismembered it,

Then should you see this thief of Scythia,

This proud usurping king of Persiä,

Do us such honour and supremacy,

Bearing the vengeance of our father's wrongs,

As all the world should blot his dignities

Out of the book of baseborn infamies.

And now I doubt not but your royal cares

Hath so provided for this cursèd foe,

That, since the heir of mighty Bajazeth,

(An emperor so honoured for his virtues,)

Revives the spirits of true Turkish hearts,

In grievous memory of his father's shame,

We shall not need to nourish any doubt,

But that proud Fortune, who hath followed long

The martial sword of mighty Tamburlaine,

Will now retain her old inconstancy,

And raise our honours to as high a pitch,

In this our strong and fortunate encounter;

For so hath Heaven provided my escape

From all the cruèlty my soul sustained,

By this my friendly keeper's happy means,

That Jove, surcharged with pity of our wrongs,

Will pour it down in showers on our heads,

Scourging the pride of cursèd Tamburlaine.

Orc.  I have a hundred thousand men in arms;

Some, that in conquest of the perjured Christiän,

Being a handful to a mighty host,

Think them in number yet sufficiënt

To drink the river Nile or Euphrates,

And for their power enow to win the world.

K. of  Jer.  And I as many from Jerusalem,

Judaea, Gaza, and Scalonia’s bounds,

That on Mount Sinai, with their ensigns spread,

Look like the parti-coloured clouds of Heaven

That show fair weather to the neighbour morn.

K. of Treb.  And I as many bring from Trebizond,

Chio, Famastro, and Amasiä,

All bordering on the Mare Major sea,

Riso, Sancina, and the bordering towns

That touch the end of famous Euphrates,

Whose courages are kindled with the flames

The cursèd Scythian sets on all their towns,

And vow to burn the villain's cruèl heart.

K. of Soria.  From Soria with seventy thousand strong,

Ta'en from Aleppo, Soldino, Tripoli,

And so unto my city of Damascus,

I march to meet and aid my neighbour kings;

All which will join against this Tamburlaine,

And bring him captive to your highness' feet.

Orc.  Our battle then, in martial manner pitched,

According to our ancient use, shall bear

The figure of the semicircled moon,

Whose horns shall sprinkle through the tainted air

The poisoned brains of this proud Scythian.

Call.   Well then, my noble lords, for this my friend

That freed me from the bondage of my foe,

I think it requisite and honourable,

To keep my promise and to make him king,

That is a gentleman, I know, at least.

Alm.  That's no matter, sir, for being a king; for

Tamburlaine came up of nothing.

K. of  Jer.  Your majesty may choose some 'pointed time,

Performing all your promise to the full;

'Tis nought for your majesty to give a kingdom.

Call.  Then will I shortly keep my promise, Almeda.

Alm.  Why, I thank your majesty.

[Exeunt.]

ACT III, SCENE II.

Enter Tamburlaine with his three sons and Usumcasne;

four Attendants bearing the hearse of Zenocrate;

the drums sounding a doleful march;

the town burning.

Tamb.  So burn the turrets of this cursèd town,

Flame to the highest region of the air,

And kindle heaps of exhalations,

That being fiery meteors may presage

Death and destruction to th' inhabitants!

Over my zenith hang a blazing star,

That may endure till Heavèn be dissolved,

Fed with the fresh supply of earthly dregs,

Threatening a dearth and famine to this land!

Flying dragons, lightning, fearful thunderclaps,

Singe these fair plains, and make them seem as black

As is the island where the Furies mask,

Compassed with Lethe, Styx, and Phlegethon,

Because my dear’st Zenocrate is dead.

Caly.  This pillar, placed in memory of her,

Where in Arabian, Hebrew, Greek, is writ, −

This town, being burnt by Tamburlaine the Great,

Forbids the world to build it up again.

Amyr.  And here this mournful streamer shall be placed,

Wrought with the Persian and th’ Egyptian arms,

To signify she was a princess born

And wife unto the monarch of the East.

Celeb.  And here this table as a register

Of all her virtues and perfectiöns.

Tamb.  And here the picture of Zenocrate,

To show her beauty which the world admired;

Sweet picture of divine Zenocrate,

That, hanging here, will draw the gods from Heaven,

And cause the stars fixed in the southern arc,

(Whose lovely faces never any viewed

That have not passed the centre's latitude,)

As pilgrims, travel to our hemisphere,

Only to gaze upon Zenocrate.

Thou shalt not beautify Larissa plains,

But keep within the circle of mine arms;

At every town and castle I besiege,

Thou shalt be set upon my royal tent;

And when I meet an army in the field,

Those looks will shed such influence in my camp,

As if Bellona, goddess of the war,

Threw naked swords and sulphur-balls of fire

Upon the heads of all our enemies. −

And now, my lords, advance your spears again:

Sorrow no more, my sweet Casane, now;

Boys, leave to mourn! this town shall ever mourn,

Being burnt to cinders for your mother's death.

Caly.  If I had wept a sea of tears for her,

It would not ease the sorrows I sustain.

Amyr.  As is that town, so is my heart consumed

With grief and sorrow for my mother's death.

Celeb.  My mother's death hath mortified my mind,

And sorrow stops the passage of my speech.

Tamb.  But now, my boys, leave off and list to me,

That mean to teach you rudiments of war.

I'll have you learn to sleep upon the ground,

March in your armour thorough watery fens,

Sustain the scorching heat and freezing cold,

Hunger and thirst, right adjuncts of the war.

And after this, to scale a castle wall,

Besiege a fort, to undermine a town,

And make whole cities caper in the air.

Then next, the way to fortify your men,

In champion grounds, what figure serves you best,

For which the quinque-angle form is meet,

Because the corners there may fall more flat

Whereas the fort may fittest be assailed,

And sharpest where th' assault is desperate.

The ditches must be deep; the counterscarps

Narrow and steep, the walls made high and broad;

The bulwarks and the rampires large and strong,

With cavalieros and thick counterforts,

And room within to lodge six thousand men.

It must have privy ditches, countermines,

And secret issuings to defend the ditch;

It must have high argins and covered ways,

To keep the bulwark fronts from battery,

And parapets to hide the musketeers;

Casemates to place the great artillery;

And store of ordnance, that from every flank

May scour the outward curtains of the fort,

Dismount the cannon of the adverse part,

Murder the foe, and save the walls from breach.

When this is learned for service on the land,

By plain and easy demonstratiön

I'll teach you how to make the water mount,

That you may dry-foot march through lakes and pools,

Deep rivers, havens, creeks, and little seas,

And make a fortress in the raging waves,

Fenced with the concave of a monstrous rock,

Invincible by nature of the place.

When this is done, then are ye soldiers,

And worthy sons of Tamburlaine the Great.

Caly.  My lord, but this is dangerous to be done;

We may be slain or wounded ere we learn.

Tamb.  Villain! art thou the son of Tamburlaine,

And fear'st to die, or with a curtle-axe

To hew thy flesh, and make a gaping wound?

Hast thou beheld a peal of ordnance strike

A ring of pikes, mingled with shot and horse,

Whose shattered limbs, being tossed as high as Heaven,

Hang in the air as thick as sunny motes,

And canst thou, coward, stand in fear of death?

Hast thou not seen my horsemen charge the foe,

Shot through the arms, cut overthwart the hands,

Dying their lances with their streaming blood,

And yet at night carouse within my tent,

Filling their empty veins with airy wine,

That, being concocted, turns to crimson blood,

And wilt thou shun the field for fear of wounds?

View me, thy father, that hath conquered kings,

And, with his host marched round about the earth,

Quite void of scars and clear from any wound,

That by the wars lost not a dram of blood,

And see him lance his flesh to teach you all.

[He cuts his arm.]

A wound is nothing, be it ne'er so deep;

Blood is the god of war's rich livery.

Now look I like a soldier, and this wound

As great a grace and majesty to me,

As if a chair of gold enamelèd,

Enchased with diamonds, sapphires, rubies,

And fairest pearl of wealthy India,

Were mounted here under a canopy,

And I sat down, clothed with the massy robe

That late adorned the Afric potentate,

Whom I brought bound unto Damascus' walls.

Come, boys, and with your fingers search my wound,

And in my blood wash all your hands at once,

While I sit smiling to behold the sight.

Now, my boys, what think you of a wound?

Caly.  I know not what I should think of it. Methinks

it is a pitiful sight.

Celeb.  'Tis nothing: give me a wound, father.

Amyr.  And me another, my lord.

Tamb.  Come, sirrah, give me your arm.

Celeb.  Here, father, cut it bravely, as you did your own.

Tamb.  It shall suffice thou dar'st abide a wound.

My boy, thou shalt not lose a drop of blood

Before we meet the army of the Turk:

But then run desperate through the thickest throngs,

Dreadless of blows, of bloody wounds, and death;

And let the burning of Larissa walls,

My speech of war, and this my wound you see,

Teach you, my boys, to bear courageous minds,

Fit for the followers of great Tamburlaine! −

Usumcasane, now come let us march

Towàrds Techelles and Theridamas,

That we have sent before to fire the towns,

The towers and cities of these hateful Turks,

And hunt that coward faintheart runaway,

With that accursèd traitor, Almeda,

Till fire and sword have found them at a bay.

Usum.  I long to pierce his bowèls with my sword,

That hath betrayed my gracious sovereign, −

That cursed and damnèd traitor, Almeda.

Tamb.  Then let us see if coward Callapine

Dare levy arms against our puïssance,

That we may tread upon his captive neck,

And treble all his father's slaveries.

[Exeunt.]

ACT III, SCENE III.

Enter Techelles, Theridamas, and their Train.

Ther.  Thus have we marched northward from Tamburlaine,

Unto the frontier point of Soria,

And this is Balsera, their chiefest hold,

Wherein is all the treasure of the land.

Tech.  Then let us bring our light artillery,

Minions, falc'nets, and sakers to the trench,

Filling the ditches with the walls' wide breach,

And enter in to seize upon the hold.

How say you, soldiërs? shall we or not?

Soldiers.  Yes, my lord, yes; come, let's about it.

Ther.  But stay a while; −summon a parley, drum. −

It may be they will yield it quietly,

Knowing two kings, the friends to Tamburlaine,

Stand at the walls with such a mighty power.

[A parley sounded.]

The Captain appears on the walls,

With Olympia his Wife, and his Son.

Capt.  What require you, my masters?

Ther.  Captain, that thou yield up thy hold to us.

Capt.  To you! Why, do you think me weary of it?

Tech.  Nay, Captain, thou art weary of thy life,

If thou withstand the friends of Tamburlaine!

Ther.  These pioners of Argier in Africa,

Even in the cannon's face, shall raise a hill

Of earth and faggots higher than thy fort,

And over thy argins and covered ways

Shall play upon the bulwarks of thy hold

Volleys of ordnance, till the breach be made

That with his ruin fills up all the trench;

And when we enter in, not Heaven itself

Shall ransom thee, thy wife, and family.

Tech.  Captain, these Moors shall cut the leaden pipes

That bring fresh water to thy men and thee,

And lie in trench before thy castle walls,

That no supply of victual shall come in,

Nor any issue forth but they shall die;

And, therefore, Captain, yield it quietly.

Capt.  Were you, that are the friends of Tamburlaine,

Brothers to holy Mahomet himself,

I would not yield it; therefore do your worst:

Raise mounts, batter, intrench, and undermine,

Cut off the water, all convoys that come,

Yet I am resolute, and so, farewell.

[Captain, Olympia and their Son retire from the walls.]

Ther.  Pioners, away! And where I stuck the stake,

Intrench with those dimensions I prescribed;

Cast up the earth towárds the castle wall,

Which, till it may defend you, labour low,

And few or none shall perish by their shot.

Pioners.  We will, my lord.

[Exeunt Pioners.]

Tech.  A hundred horse shall scout about the plains

To spy what force comes to relieve the hold.

Both we, Theridamas, will entrench our men,

And with the Jacob's staff measure the height

And distance of the castle from the trench,

That we may know if our artillery

Will carry full point-blank unto their walls.

Ther.  Then see the bringing of our ordnance

Along the trench into the battery,

Where we will have gabions of six foot broad

To save our cannoniers from musket shot;

Betwixt which shall our ordnance thunder forth,

And with the breach's fall, smoke, fire, and dust,

The crack, the echo, and the soldier's cry,

Make deaf the air and dim the crystal sky.

Tech.  Trumpets and drums, alarum presently!

And, soldiers, play the men; the hold is yours!

[Exeunt.]

ACT III, SCENE IV.

[Alarm within. −]

Enter the Captain, with his wife Olympia, and his Son.

Olym.  Come, good my lord, and let us haste from hence

Along the cave that leads beyond the foe;

No hope is left to save this conquered hold.

Capt.  A deadly bullet gliding through my side

Lies heavy on my heart; I cannot live.

I feel my liver pierced, and all my veins,

That there begin and nourish every part,

Mangled and torn, and all my entrails bathed

In blood that straineth from their orifex.

Farewell, sweet wife! Sweet son, farewell! I die.

[He dies.]

Olym.  Death, whither art thou gone, that both we live?

Come back again, sweet Death, and strike us both.

One minute end our days! and one sepulchre

Contain our bodies! Death, why com'st thou not?

Well, this must be the messenger for thee.

[Drawing a dagger.]

Now, ugly Death, stretch out thy sable wings,

And carry both our souls where his remains. −

Tell me, sweet boy, art thou content to die?

These barbarous Scythians, full of cruèlty,

And Moors, in whom was never pity found,

Will hew us piecemeal, put us to the wheel,

Or else invent some torture worse than that;

Therefore die by thy loving mother's hand,

Who gently now will lance thy ivory throat,

And quickly rid thee both of pain and life.

Son.  Mother, dispatch me, or I'll kill myself;

For think ye I can live and see him dead?

Give me your knife, good mother, or strike home:

The Scythians shall not tyrannize on me.

Sweet mother, strike, that I may meet my father.

[She stabs him, and he dies.]

Olym.  Ah, sacred Mahomet, if this be sin,

Entreat a pardon of the God of Heaven,

And purge my soul before it come to thee.

[She burns the bodies of her Husband and Son

and then attempts to kill herself.]

Enter Theridamas, Techelles, and all their Train.

Ther.  How now, madam! What are you doing?

Olym.  Killing myself, as I have done my son,

Whose body, with his father's, I have burnt,

Lest cruèl Scythians should dismember him.

Tech.  'Twas bravely done, and like a soldier's wife.

Thou shalt with us to Tamburlaine the Great,

Who, when he hears how resolute thou art,

Will match thee with a viceroy or a king.

Olym.  My lord deceased was dearer unto me

Than any viceroy, king, or emperor;

And for his sake here will I end my days.

Ther.  But, lady, go with us to Tamburlaine,

And thou shalt see a man, greater than Mahomet,

In whose high looks is much more majesty

Than from the concave superficiës

Of Jove's vast palace, the empyreal orb,

Unto the shining bower where Cynthia sits,

Like lovely Thetis, in a crystal robe;

That treadeth Fortune underneath his feet,

And makes the mighty God of arms his slave;

On whom Death and the Fatal Sisters wait

With naked swords and scarlet liveries;

Before whom, mounted on a lion's back,

Rhamnusia bears a helmet full of blood,

And strews the way with brains of slaughtered men;

By whose proud side the ugly Furies run,

Hearkening when he shall bid them plague the world;

Over whose zenith, clothed in windy air,

And eagle's wings joined to her feathered breast,

Fame hovereth, sounding of her golden trump,

That to the adverse poles of that straight line,

Which measureth the glorious frame of Heaven,

The name of mighty Tamburlaine is spread;

And him, fair lady, shall thy eyes behold.

Come!

Olym.  Take pity of a lady's ruthful tears,

That humbly craves upon her knees to stay

And cast her body in the burning flame

That feeds upon her son's and husband's flesh.

Tech.  Madam, sooner shall fire consume us both

Than scorch a face so beautiful as this,

In frame of which Nature hath showed more skill

Than when she gave eternal chaos form,

Drawing from it the shining lamps of Heaven.

Ther.  Madam, I am so far in love with you,

That you must go with us - no remedy.

Olym.  Then carry me, I care not, where you will,

And let the end of this my fatal journey

Be likewise end to my accursèd life.

Tech.  No, madam, but the beginning of your joy:

Come willingly, therefore.

Ther.  Soldiers, now let us meet the general,

Who by this time is at Natolia,

Ready to charge the army of the Turk.

The gold and silver, and the pearl we got,

Rifling this fort, divide in equal shares:

This lady shall have twice so much again

Out of the coffers of our treasury.

[Exeunt.]

ACT III, SCENE V.

Enter Callapine, Orcanes, Almeda,

And the Kings of Jerusalem, Trebizond, and  Soria,

with their Trains.

− to them Enters a Messenger.

Mess.  Renownèd emperor, mighty Callapine,

God's great lieutenant over all the world!

Here at Aleppo, with a host of men,

Lies Tamburlaine, this king of Persià,

(in numbers more than are the quivering leaves

Of Ida's forest, where your highness' hounds,

With open cry, pursue the wounded stag,)

Who means to girt Natolia's walls with siege,

Fire the town, and overrun the land.

Call.  My royal army is as great as his,

That, from the bounds of Phrygia to the sea

Which washeth Cyprus with his brinish waves,

Covers the hills, the valleys, and the plains.

Viceroys and peers of Turkey, play the men!

Whet all your swords to mangle Tamburlaine,

His sons, his captains and his followers!

By Mahomet! not one of them shall live;

The field wherein this battle shall be fought

Forever term the Persian’s sepulchre,

In memory of this our victory!

Orc.  Now, he that calls himself the scourge of Jove,

The emperor of the world, and earthly god,

Shall end the warlike progress he intends,

And travel headlong to the lake of hell,

Where legiöns of devils, (knowing he must die

Here in Natolia by your highness' hands,)

All brandishing their brands of quenchless fire,

Stretching their monstrous paws, grin with their teeth,

And guard the gates to entertain his soul.

Call.  Tell me, viceroys, the number of your men,

And what our army royal is esteemed.

K. of  Jer.  From Palestina and Jerusalem,

Of Hebrews three score thousand fighting men

Are come, since last we showed your majesty.

Orc.  So from Arabia Desert, and the bounds

Of that sweet land, whose brave metropolis

Re-edified the fair Semiramis,

Came forty thousand warlike foot and horse,

Since last we numbered to your majesty.

K. of Treb.  From Trebizond in Asiä the Less,

Naturalized Turks and stout Bithynians

Came to my bands, full fifty thousand more,

(That, fighting, know not what retreat doth mean,

Nor e'er return but with the victory,)

Since last we numbered to your majesty.

K. of Soria.  Of Sorians from Halla is repaired,

And neighbour cities of your highness' land,

Ten thousand horse and thirty thousand foot,

Since last we numbered to your majesty;

So that the army royal is esteemed

Six hundred thousand valiant fighting men.

Call.  Then welcome, Tamburlaine, unto thy death.

Come, puissant viceroys, let us to the field,

(the Persians' sepulchre,) and sacrifice

Mountains of breathless men to Mahomet,

Who now, with Jove, opens the firmament

To see the slaughter of our enemies.

Enter Tamburlaine with his three Sons,

and Usumcasane, and others.

Tamb.  How now, Casane? See a knot of kings,

Sitting as if they were a-telling riddles.

Usum.  My lord, your presence makes them pale and wan:

Poor souls! they look as if their deaths were near.

Tamb.  And so he is, Casane; I am here;

But yet I'll save their lives, and make them slaves. −

Ye petty kings of Turkey, I am come,

As Hector did into the Grecian camp,

To overdare the pride of Grӕcia,

And set his warlike person to the view

Of fierce Achilles, rival of his fame:

I do you honour in the simile;

For if I should, as Hector did Achilles,

(the worthiest knight that ever brandished sword,)

Challenge in combat any of you all,

I see how fearfully ye would refuse,

And fly my glove as from a scorpion.

Orc.  Now thou art fearful of thy army's strength,

Thou wouldst with overmatch of person fight;

But, shepherd's issue, baseborn Tamburlaine,

Think of thy end! this sword shall lance thy throat.

Tamb.  Villain! the shepherd's issue, (at whose birth

Heaven did afford a gracious aspect,

And joined those stars that shall be opposite

Even till the dissolution to the world,

And never meant to make a conqueror

So famous as is mighty Tamburlaine,)

Shall so torment thee and that Callapine,

That, like a roguish runaway, suborned

That villain there, that slave, that Turkish dog,

To false his service to his sovereign,

As ye shall curse the birth of Tamburlaine.

Call.  Rail not, proud Scythian! I shall now revenge

My father's vile abuses, and mine own.

K. of  Jer.  By Mahomet! he shall be tied in chains,

Rowing with Christians in a brigandine

About the Grecian isles to rob and spoil,

And turn him to his ancient trade again:

Methinks the slave should make a lusty thief.

Call.  Nay, when the battle ends, all we will meet

And sit in council to invent some pain

That most may vex his body and his soul.

Tamb.  Sirrah, Callapine! I'll hang a clog about your

neck for running away again. You shall not trouble me

thus to come and fetch you.

But as for you, viceroys, you shall have bits,

And, harnessed like my horses, draw my coach;

And when ye stay, be lashed with whips of wire.

I'll have you learn to feed on provender

And in a stable lie upon the planks.

Orc.  But, Tamburlaine, first thou shalt kneel to us,

And humbly crave a pardon for thy life.

K. of Treb.  The common soldiers of our mighty host

Shall bring thee bound unto the general's tent.

K. of Soria.  And all have jointly sworn thy cruèl death,

Or bind thee in eternal torments' wrath.

Tamb.  Well, sirs, diet yourselves; you know I shall

have occasion shortly to journey you.

Celeb.  See, father,

How Almeda the jailor looks upon us.

Tamb.  Villain! Traitor! damnèd fugitive!

I'll make thee wish the earth had swallowed thee!

See’st thou not death within my wrathful looks?

Go, villain, cast thee headlong from a rock,

Or rip thy bowels and rend out thy heart

T' appease my wrath! or else I'll torture thee,

Searing thy hateful flesh with burning irons

And drops of scalding lead, while all thy joints

Be racked and beat asunder with the wheel;

For, if thou liv'st, not any element

Shall shroud thee from the wrath of Tamburlaine.

Call.  Well, in despite of thee, he shall be king.

Come, Almeda; receive this crown of me.

I here invest thee king of Ariadan,

Bordering on Marè Rosso, near to Mecca.

Orc.  What! Take it, man.

Alm.  [To Tamburlaine] Good my lord, let me take it.

Call.  Dost thou ask him leave? Here; take it.

Tamb.  Go to, sirrah, take your crown, and make up

the half dozen. So, sirrah, now you are a king, you

must give arms.

Orc.  So he shall, and wear thy head in his scutcheon.

Tamb.  No; let him hang a bunch of keys on his

standard, to put him in remembrance he was a jailor,

that, when I take him, I may knock out his brains with

them, and lock you in the stable, when you shall come

sweating from my chariot.

K. of Treb.  Away; let us to the field, that the villain

may be slain.

Tamb.  Sirrah, prepare whips, and bring my chariot to

my tent; for, as soon as the battle is done, I'll ride

in triumph through the camp.

Enter Theridamas, Techelles, and their Train.

How now, ye petty kings? Lo, here are bugs

Will make the hair stand upright on your heads,

And cast your crowns in slavery at their feet. −

Welcome, Theridamas and Techelles, both!

See ye this rout, and know ye this same king?

Ther.  Ay, my lord; he was Callapine's keeper.

Tamb.  Well now you see he is a king; look to him,

Theridamas, when we are fighting, lest he hide his

crown as the foolish king of Persia did.

K. of Soria.  No, Tamburlaine; he shall not be put to that exigent, I warrant thee.

Tamb.  You know not, sir. −

But now, my followers and my loving friends,

Fight as you ever did, like conquerors,

The glory of this happy day is yours.

My stern aspéct shall make fair Victory,

Hovering betwixt our armies, light on me,

Loaden with laurel wreaths to crown us all.

Tech.  I smile to think how when this field is fought

And rich Natolia ours, our men shall sweat

With carrying pearl and treasure on their backs.

Tamb.  You shall be princes all, immediately;

Come, fight, ye Turks, or yield us victory.

Orc.  No; we will meet thee, slavish Tamburlaine.

[Exeunt.]

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Alarm within. –

Amyras and Celebinus issue from the tent

where Calyphas sits asleep.

Amyr. Now in their glories shine the golden crowns

Of these proud Turks, much like so many suns

That half dismay the majesty of Heaven.

Now, brother, follow we our father's sword,

That flies with fury swifter than our thoughts,

And cuts down armies with his conquering wings.

Celeb.  Call forth our lazy brother from the tent,

For if my father miss him in the field,

Wrath, kindled in the furnace of his breast,

Will send a deadly lightning to his heart.

Amyr.  Brother, ho! What, given so much to sleep!

You cannot leave it, when our enemies' drums

And rattling cannons thunder in our ears

Our proper ruin and our father's foil?

Caly.  Away, ye fools! My father needs not me,

Nor you, in faith, but that you will be thought

More childish-valorous than manly-wise.

If half our camp should sit and sleep with me,

My father were enough to scare the foe.

You do dishonour to his majesty,

To think our helps will do him any good.

Amyr.  What, dar'st thou then be absent from the field,

Knowing my father hates thy cowardice,

And oft hath warned thee to be still in field,

When he himself amidst the thickest troops

Beats down our foes, to flesh our taintless swords?

Caly.  I know, sir, what it is to kill a man;

It works remorse of consciënce in me;

I take no pleasure to be murderous,

Nor care for blood when wine will quench my thirst.

Celeb.  O cowardly boy! Fie! for shame, come forth!

Thou dost dishonour manhood and thy house.

Caly.  Go, go, tall stripling, fight you for us both,

And take my other towàrd brother here,

For person like to prove a second Mars.

'Twill please my mind as well to hear you both

Have won a heap of honour in the field

And left your slender carcasses behind,

As if I lay with you for company.

Amyr.  You will not go, then?

Caly.  You say true.

Amyr.  Were all the lofty mounts of Zona Mundi,

That fill the midst of farthest Tartary,

Turned into pearl and proffered for my stay,

I would not bide the fury of my father,

When, made a victor in these haughty arms,

He comes and finds his sons have had no shares

In all the honours he proposed for us.

Caly.  Take you the honour, I will take my ease;

My wisdom shall excuse my cowardice.

I go into the field before I need!

[Alarmums. − Amyras and Celebinus run out.]

The bullets fly at random where they list;

And should I go and kill a thousand men,

I were as soon rewarded with a shot,

And sooner far than he that never fights;

And should I go and do nor harm nor good,

I might have harm, which all the good I have,

Joined with my father's crown, would never cure.

I'll to cards. Perdicas!

Enter Perdicas.

Perd. Here, my lord.

Caly.  Come, thou and I will go to cards to drive away

the time.

Perd. Content, my lord; but what shall we play for?

Caly.  Who shall kiss the fairest of the Turks' concubines first, when my father hath conquered them.

Perd. Agreed, i' faith.

[They play.]

Caly.  They say I am a coward, Perdicas, and I fear as

little their taratantaras, their swords or their cannons,

as I do a naked lady in a net of gold, and, for fear I

should be afraid, would put it off and come to bed

with me.

Perd. Such a fear, my lord, would never make ye retire.

Caly.  I would my father would let me be put in the

front of such a battle once to try my valour.

[Alarms within.]

What a coil they keep! I believe there will be some

hurt done anon amongst them.

[Exeunt.]

ACT IV, SCENE II.

Enter Tamburlaine, Theridamas, Techelles,

Usumcasane, Amyras, and Celebinus,

leading in Orcanes and the Kings of Jerusalem,

Trebizond and Soria.

Tamb.  See now, ye slaves, my children stoop your pride

And lead your bodies sheeplike to the sword. −

Bring them, my boys, and tell me if the wars

Be not a life that may illústrate gods,

And tickle not your spirits with desire

Still to be trained in arms and chivalry?

Amyr.  Shall we let go these kings again, my lord,

To gather greater numbers 'gainst our power,

That they may say it is not chance doth this,

But matchless strength and magnanimity?

Tamb.  No, no, Amyras; tempt not fortune so;

Cherish thy valour still with fresh supplies,

And glut it not with stale and daunted foes.

But where's this coward villain, not my son,

But traitor to my name and majesty?

[He goes in and brings Calyphas out.]

Image of sloth and picture of a slave,

The obloquy and scorn of my renown!

How may my heart, thus firèd with mine eyes,

Wounded with shame and killed with discontent,

Shroud any thought may hold my striving hands

From martial justice on thy wretched soul?

Ther.  Yet pardon him, I pray your majesty.

Tech. & Usum.  Let all of us entreat your highness'

pardon.

Tamb.  Stand up, ye base, unworthy soldiërs!

Know ye not yet the argument of arms?

Amyr.  Good my lord, let him be forgiven for once,

And we will force him to the field hereafter.

Tamb.  Stand up, my boys, and I will teach ye arms,

And what the jealousy of wars must do.

O Samarcanda, (where I breathèd first,

And joyed the fire of this martial flesh,) −

Blush, blush, fair city, at thine honour's foil,

And shame of nature, which Jaertis' stream,

Embracing thee with deepest of his love,

Can never wash from thy distainèd brows!

Here, Jove, receive his fainting soul again;

A form not meet to give that subject essence

Whose matter is the flesh of Tamburlaine;

Wherein an incorporeal spirit moves,

Made of the mould whereof thyself consists,

Which makes me valiant, proud, ambitiöus,

Ready to levy power against thy throne,

That I might move the turning spheres of Heaven!

For earth and all this airy regiön

Cannot contain the state of Tamburlaine.

[He stabs Calyphas.]

By Mahomet! thy mighty friend, I swear,

In sending to my issue such a soul,

Created of the massy dregs of earth,

The scum and tartar of the elements,

Wherein was neither courage, strength, or wit,

But folly, sloth, and damnèd idleness,

Thou hast procured a greater enemy

Than he that darted mountains at thy head,

Shaking the burden mighty Atlas bears;

Whereat thou trembling hid'st thee in the air,

Clothed with a pitchy cloud for being seen.

And now, ye cankered curs of Asiä,

That will not see the strength of Tamburlaine,

Although it shine as brightly as the sun;

Now you shall feel the strength of Tamburlaine,

And, by the state of his supremacy,

Approve the difference 'twixt himself and you.

Orc.  Thou show'st the difference 'twixt ourselves and thee,

In this thy barbarous damnèd tyranny.

K. of  Jer.  Thy victories are grown so violent,

That shortly Heaven, filled with the meteors

Of blood and fire thy tyrannies have made,

Will pour down blood and fire on thy head,

Whose scalding drops will pierce thy seething brains,

And, with our bloods, revenge our bloods on thee.

Tamb.  Villains! these terrors, and these tyrannies

(If tyrannies war's justice ye repute,)

I execute, enjoined me from above,

To scourge the pride of such as Heaven abhors;

Nor am I made arch-monarch of the world,

Crowned and invested by the hand of Jove

For deeds of bounty or nobility;

But since I exercise a greater name,

The scourge of God, and terror of the world,

I must apply myself to fit those terms,

In war, in blood, in death, in cruèlty,

And plague such peasants as resist in me

The power of Heaven's eternal majesty. −

Theridamas, Techelles, and Casane,

Ransack the tents and the paviliöns

Of these proud Turks, and take their concubines,

Making them bury this effeminate brat;

For not a common soldier shall defile

His manly fingers with so faint a boy.

Then bring those Turkish harlots to my tent,

And I'll dispose them as it likes me best;

Meanwhile, take him in.

Soldiers. We will, my lord.

[Exeunt with the body of Calyphas.]

K. of  Jer.   O damnèd monster! Nay, a fiend of hell,

Whose cruèlties are not so harsh as thine,

Nor yet imposed with such a bitter hate!

Orc.  Revenge it, Rhadamanth and Æäcus,

And let your hates, extended in his pains,

Excel the hate wherewith he pains our souls!

K. of Treb.  May never day give virtue to his eyes,

Whose sight, composed of fury and of fire,

Doth send such stern affections to his heart!

K. of Soria.  May never spirit, vein, or artier, feed

The cursèd substance of that cruèl heart!

But, wanting moisture and remorseful blood,

Dry up with anger, and consume with heat!

Tamb.  Well, bark, ye dogs. I'll bridle all your tongues,

And bind them close with bits of burnished steel,

Down to the channels of your hateful throats;

And, with the pains my rigour shall inflict,

I'll make ye roar, that earth may echo forth

The far-resounding torments ye sustain:

As when an herd of lusty Cymbrian bulls

Run mourning round about the females' miss,

And, stung with fury of their following,

Fill all the air with troublous bellowing;

I will, with engines never exercised,

Conquer, sack, and utterly consume

Your cities and your golden palaces;

And, with the flames that beat against the clouds,

Incense the heavens, and make the stars to melt,

As if they were the tears of Mahomet,

For hot consumption of his country's pride;

And, till by vision or by speech I hear

Immortal Jove say “Cease, my Tamburlaine,”

I will persist, a terror to the world,

Making the meteors (that, like armèd men

Are seen to march upon the towers of Heaven)

Run tilting round about the firmament,

And break their burning lances in the air,

For honour of my wondrous victories.

Come, bring them in to our paviliön.

[Exeunt.]

ACT IV, SCENE III.

Olympia discovered alone.

Olym.  Distressed Olympia, whose weeping eyes

Since thy arrival here beheld no sun,

But closed within the compass of a tent

Have stained thy cheeks, and made thee look like Death,

Devise some means to rid thee of thy life,

Rather than yield to his detested suit,

Whose drift is only to dishonour thee;

And since this earth, dewed with thy brinish tears,

Affords no herbs whose taste may poison thee,

Nor yet this air, beat often with thy sighs,

Contagious smells and vapors to infect thee,

Nor thy close cave a sword to murder thee;

Let this invention be the instrument.

Enter Theridamas.

Ther.  Well met, Olympia; I sought thee in my tent,

But when I saw the place obscure and dark,

Which with thy beauty thou was’t wont to light,

Enraged, I ran about the fields for thee,

Supposing amorous Jove had sent his son,

The wingèd Hermes, to convey thee hence;

But now I find thee, and that fear is past.

Tell me, Olympia, wilt thou grant my suit?

Olym.  My lord and husband's death, with my sweet son's,

(with whom I buried all affectiöns

Save grief and sorrow, which torment my heart,)

Forbids my mind to entertain a thought

That tends to love, but meditate on death,

A fitter subject for a pensive soul.

Ther.  Olympia, pity him in whom thy looks

Have greater operation and more force

Than Cynthia's in the watery wilderness,

For with thy view my joys are at the full,

And ebb again as thou depart'st from me.

Olym.  Ah, pity me, my lord! and draw your sword,

Making a passage for my troubled soul,

Which beats against this prison to get out,

And meet my husband and my loving son.

Ther.  Nothing but still thy husband and thy son!

Leave this, my love, and listen more to me:

Thou shalt be stately queen of fair Argier;

And, clothed in costly cloth of massy gold,

Upon the marble turrets of my court

Sit like to Venus in her chair of state,

Commanding all thy princely eye desires;

And I will cast off arms to sit with thee,

Spending my life in sweet discourse of love.

Olym.  No such discourse is pleasant in mine ears,

But that where every period ends with death,

And every line begins with death again.

I cannot love, to be an emperèss.

Ther.  Nay lady, then, if nothing will prevail,

I'll use some other means to make you yield:

Such is the sudden fury of my love,

I must and will be pleased, and you shall yield.

Come to the tent again.

Olym.  Stay now, my lord, and, will you save my honour,

I'll give your grace a present of such price

As all the world cannot afford the like.

Ther.  What is it?

Olym.  An ointment which a cunning alchemist,

Distillèd from the purest balsamum,

And simplest extracts of all minerals,

In which th’ essential form of marble stone,

Tempered by science metaphysical,

And spells of magic from the mouths of spirits,

With which if you but 'noint your tender skin,

Nor pistol, sword, nor lance, can pierce your flesh.

Ther.  Why, madam, think ye to mock me thus palpably?

Olym.  To prove it, I will 'noint my naked throat,

Which when you stab, look on your weapon's point,

And you shall see't rebated with the blow.

Ther.  Why gave you not your husband some of it,

If you loved him, and it so preciöus?

Olym.  My purpose was, my lord, to spend it so,

But was prevented by his sudden end;

And for a present, easy proof hereof,

That I dissemble not, try it on me.

Ther.  I will, Olympia, and will keep it for

The richest present of this eastern world.

[She anoints her throat.]

Olym.  Now stab, my lord, and mark your weapon's point,

That will be blunted if the blow be great.

Ther.  Here, then, Olympia.

[Stabs her.]

What, have I slain her? Villain, stab thyself!

Cut off this arm that murderèd my love,

In whom the learnèd rabbis of this age

Might find as many wondrous miracles

As in the theoria of the world.

Now hell is fairer than Elysium;

A greater lamp than that bright eye of Heaven,

From whence the stars do borrow all their light,

Wanders about the black circumferènce;

And now the damnèd souls are free from pain,

For every Fury gazeth on her looks.

Infernal Dis is courting of my love,

Inventing masques and stately shows for her,

Opening the doors of his rich treasury

To entertain this queen of chastity;

Whose body shall be tombed with all the pomp

The treasure of my kingdom may afford.

[Exit, with the body.]

ACT IV, SCENE IV.

Enter Tamburlaine, drawn in his chariot by the

Kings of Trebizond and Soria with bits in their mouths:

in his right hand he has a whip with which

he scourgeth them, while his left hand holds the reins;

then come Techelles, Theridamas, Usumcasane,

Amyras, and Celebinus with Orcanes and the King of Jerusalem, led by five or six common soldiers.

Tamb.  Holla, ye pampered jades of Asiä!

What! can ye draw but twenty miles a day,

And have so proud a chariot at your heels,

And such a coachman as great Tamburlaine,

But from Asphaltis, where I conquered you,

To Byron here, where thus I honour you!

The horse that guide the golden eye of Heaven

And blow the morning from their nosterils,

Making their fiery gait above the clouds,

Are not so honoured in their governor

As you, ye slaves, in mighty Tamburlaine.

The headstrong jades of Thrace Alcides tamed,

That King Aegeus fed with human flesh,

And made so wanton that they knew their strengths,

Were not subdued with valour more divine

Than you by this unconquered arm of mine.

To make you fierce, and fit my appetite,

You shall be fed with flesh as raw as blood,

And drink in pails the strongest muscadel;

If you can live with it, then live, and draw

My chariot swifter than the racking clouds;

If not, then die like beasts, and fit for nought

But perches for the black and fatal ravens.

Thus am I right the scourge of highest Jove;

And see the figure of my dignity

By which I hold my name and majesty!

Amyr.  Let me have coach, my lord, that I may ride,

And thus be drawn by these two idle kings.

Tamb.  Thy youth forbids such ease, my kingly boy.

They shall tomorrow draw my chariot,

While these their fellow-kings may be refreshed.

Orc.  O thou that sway’st the region under earth,

And art a king as absolute as Jove,

Come as thou didst in fruitful Sicily,

Surveying all the glories of the land,

And as thou took'st the fair Proserpina,

Joying the fruit of Ceres' garden-plot,

For love, for honour, and to make her queen,

So for just hate, for shame, and to subdue

This proud contemner of thy dreadful power,

Come once in fury and survey his pride,

Haling him headlong to the lowest hell.

Ther.  Your majesty must get some bits for these,

To bridle their contemptuous, cursing tongues,

That, like unruly, never broken jades,

Break through the hedges of their hateful mouths,

And pass their fixèd bounds exceedingly.

Tech.  Nay, we will break the hedges of their mouths,

And pull their kicking colts out of their pastures.

Usum.  Your majesty already hath devised

A mean, as fit as may be, to restrain

These coltish coach-horse tongues from blasphemy.

Celeb.  How like you that, sir king? Why speak you not?

K. of  Jer.   Ah, cruèl brat, sprung from a tyrant's loins!

How like his cursèd father he begins

To practice taunts and bitter tyrannies!

Tamb.  Ay, Turk, I tell thee, this same boy is he

That must (advanced in higher pomp than this)

Rifle the kingdoms I shall leave unsacked,

If Jove, esteeming me too good for earth,

Raise me to match the fair Aldebaran,

Above the threefold astracism of Heaven,

Before I conquer all the triple world.

Now, fetch me out the Turkish concubines;

I will prefer them for the funeral

They have bestowed on my abortive son.

[The Concubines are brought in.]

Where are my common soldiers now, that fought

So lion-like upon Asphaltis' plains?

Soldiers. Here, my lord.

Tamb.  Hold ye, tall soldiers, take ye queens apiece −

I mean such queens as were kings' concubines.

Take them; divide them, and their jewèls too,

And let them equally serve all your turns.

Soldiers. We thank your majesty.

Tamb.  Brawl not, I warn you, for your lechery:

For every man that so offends shall die.

Orc.  Injurious tyrant, wilt thou so defame

The hateful fortunes of thy victory,

To exercise upon such guiltless dames

The violence of thy common soldiers' lust?

Tamb.  Live continent, then, ye slaves, and meet not me

With troops of harlots at your slothful heels.

Concubines.  O pity us, my lord, and save our honours.

Tamb.  Are ye not gone, ye villains, with your spoils?

[They run away with the Concubines.]

K. of  Jer.   O, merciless, infernal cruèlty!

Tamb.  Save your honours! 'Twere but time indeed,

Lost long before you knew what honour meant.

Ther.  It seems they meant to conquer us, my lord,

And make us jesting pageants for their trulls.

Tamb.  And now themselves shall make our pageant,

And common soldiers jest with all their trulls.

Let them take pleasure soundly in their spoils,

Till we prepare our march to Babylon,

Whither we next make expeditiön.