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TAMBURLAINE
THE GREAT |
Part
the Second |
By
Christopher Marlowe |
1587 |
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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. |
Tech. Let us not be idle, then, my lord, |
But presently be prest
to conquer it. |
Tamb. We will, Techelles. − Forward, then, ye jades. − |
Now crouch, ye kings
of greatest Asiä, |
And tremble when ye
hear this scourge will come |
That whips down cities
and controlleth crowns, |
Adding their wealth
and treasure to my store. |
The Euxine sea, north
to Natolia; |
The Terrene, west; the
Caspian, north northeast; |
And on the south,
Sinus Arabicus; |
Shall all be loaden
with the martial spoils |
We will convey with us
to Persiä. |
Then shall my native
city, Samarcanda, |
And crystal waves of
fresh Jaertis' stream, |
The pride and beauty
of her princely seat, |
Be famous through the
furthest continents; |
For there my palace-royal
shall be placed, |
Whose shining turrets
shall dismay the Heavens, |
And cast the fame of
Ilion's tower to hell. |
Thorough the streets,
with troops of conquered kings, |
I'll ride in golden
armour like the sun; |
And in my helm a
triple plume shall spring, |
Spangled with
diamonds, dancing in the air, |
To note me emperor of
the threefold world, |
Like to an almond tree
y-mounted high |
Upon the lofty and
celestial mount |
Of evergreen Selinus
quaintly decked |
With blooms more white
than Erycina's brows, |
Whose tender blossoms
tremble every one, |
At every little breath
through Heaven blown. |
Then in my coach, like
Saturn's royal son |
Mounted, his shining
chariot gilt with fire, |
And drawn with
princely eagles through the path |
Paved with bright
crystal and enchased with stars, |
When all the gods
stand gazing at his pomp, |
So will I ride through
Samarcanda streets, |
Until my soul,
dissevered from this flesh, |
Shall mount the
milk-white way, and meet him there. |
To Babylon, my lords;
to Babylon! |
[Exeunt.] |
ACT V. |
SCENE I. |
Enter the governor of Babylon, Maximus, |
and others upon the walls. |
Gov. What
saith Maximus? |
Max. My lord, the breach the enemy hath made |
Gives such assurance
of our overthrow, |
That little hope is
left to save our lives |
Or hold our city from
the conqueror's hands. |
Then hang out flags,
my lord, of humble truce, |
And satisfy the
people's general prayers, |
That Tamburlaine's
intolerable wrath |
May be suppressed by
our submissiön. |
Gov. Villain, respects thou more thy slavish life |
Than honour of thy
country or thy name? |
Is not my life and
state as dear to me, |
The city, and my
native country's weal, |
As anything of price
with thy conceit? |
Have we not hope, for
all our battered walls, |
To live secure and
keep his forces out, |
When this our famous
lake of Limnasphaltis |
Makes walls afresh
with everything that falls |
Into the liquid
substance of his stream, |
More strong than are
the gates of death or hell? |
What faintness should
dismay our courages, |
When we are thus
defensed against our foe, |
And have no terror but
his threatening looks? |
Enter a Citizen, who kneels to the Governor. |
Cit. My lord, if ever you did
deed of ruth, |
And now will work a
refuge to our lives, |
Offer submission, hang
up flags of truce, |
That Tamburlaine may
pity our distress, |
And use us like a
loving conqueror. |
Though this be held
his last day's dreadful siege, |
Wherein he spareth
neither man nor child, |
Yet are there
Christiäns of Georgia here, |
Whose state he ever
pitied and relieved, |
Would get his pardon,
if your grace would send. |
Gov. How is
my soul environèd with cares! |
And this etérnized
city, Babylon, |
Filled with a pack of
faint-heart fugitives |
That thus entreat
their shame and servitude! |
Enter another Citizen. |
2 Cit. My lord, if ever you will
win our hearts, |
Yield up the town and
save our wives and children; |
For I will cast myself
from off these walls |
Or die some death of
quickest violence, |
Before I bide the
wrath of Tamburlaine. |
Gov. Villains,
cowards, traitors to our state! |
Fall to the earth and
pierce the pit of hell, |
That legions of
tormenting spirits may vex |
Your slavish bosoms
with continual pains! |
I care not, nor the
town will ever yield, |
As long as any life is
in my breast. |
Enter Theridamas and Techelles, with Soldiers. |
Ther. Thou desperate governor of Babylon, |
To save thy life, and
us a little labour, |
Yield speedily the
city to our hands, |
Or else be sure thou
shalt be forced with pains, |
More exquisite than
ever traitor felt. |
Gov. Tyrant!
I turn the traitor in thy throat, |
And will defend it in
despite of thee. − |
Call up the soldiers
to defend these walls! |
Tech. Yield, foolish governor; we offer more |
Than ever yet we did
to such proud slaves |
As durst resist us
till our third day's siege. |
Thou seest us prest to
give the last assault, |
And that shall bide no
more regard of parley. |
Gov. Assault
and spare not; we will never yield. |
[Alarms; and they scale the walls.] |
Enter Tamburlaine drawn in his chariot |
by the Kings of Trebizond and Soria; |
Amyras, Celebinus, and Usumcasane; |
with the two spare Kings of Natolia (Orcanes) |
and Jerusalem led by soldiers. |
Tamb. The stately buildings of fair Babylon, |
Whose lofty pillars,
higher than the clouds, |
Were wont to guide the
seaman in the deep, |
Being carried thither
by the cannon's force, |
Now fill the mouth of
Limnasphaltis' lake, |
And make a bridge unto
the battered walls. |
Where Belus, Ninus,
and great Alexander |
Have rode in triumph,
triumphs Tamburlaine, |
Whose chariot wheels
have burst th' Assyrians' bones, |
Drawn with these kings
on heaps of carcasses. |
Now in the place where
fair Semiramis, |
Courted by kings and
peers of Asiä, |
Hath trod the
measures, do my soldiers march; |
And in the streets,
where brave Assyrian dames |
Have rid in pomp like
rich Saturniä, |
With furious words and
frowning visages |
My horsemen brandish
their unruly blades. |
Enter Theridamas and Techelles, |
bringing in the Governor of Babylon. |
Who have ye there, my
lords? |
Ther. The sturdy governor of Babylon, |
That made us all the
labour for the town, |
And used such slender
reckoning of your majesty. |
Tamb. Go, bind the villain; he shall hang in chains |
Upon the ruins of this
conquered town. − |
Sirrah, the view of
our vermilion tents, |
(which threatened more
than if the regiön |
Next underneath the
element of fire |
Were full of comets
and of blazing stars, |
Whose flaming trains
should reach down to the earth,) |
Could not affright
you; no, nor I myself, |
The wrathful messenger
of mighty Jove, |
That with his sword
hath quailed all earthly kings, |
Could not persuade you
to submissiön, |
But still the ports
were shut; villain! I say, |
Should I but touch the
rusty gates of hell, |
The triple-headed
Cerberus would howl |
And make black Jove to
crouch and kneel to me; |
But I have sent
volleys of shot to you, |
Yet could not enter
till the breach was made. |
Gov. Nor if
my body could have stopped the breach, |
Should’st thou have
entered, cruèl Tamburlaine. |
'Tis not thy bloody
tents can make me yield, |
Nor yet thyself, the
anger of the Highest; |
For though thy cannon
shook the city walls, |
My heart did never
quake or courage faint. |
Tamb. Well, now I'll make it quake; − go, draw him up, |
Hang him in chains upon
the city walls, |
And let my soldiers
shoot the slave to death. |
Gov. Vile
monster! born of some infernal hag, |
And sent from hell to
tyrannize on earth, |
Do all thy worst; nor
death, nor Tamburlaine, |
Torture, nor pain, can
daunt my dreadless mind. |
Tamb. Up with him, then; his body shall be scared. |
Gov. But,
Tamburlaine, in Limnasphaltis' lake |
There lies more gold
than Babylon is worth, |
Which, when the city
was besieged, I hid. |
Save but my life, and
I will give it thee. |
Tamb. Then for all your valour, you would save your life? |
Whereabout lies it? |
Gov. Under a
hollow bank, right opposite |
Against the western
gate of Babylon. |
Tamb. Go thither, some of you, and take his gold. − |
[Exeunt some Attendants.] |
The rest −
forward with executiön! |
Away with him hence,
let him speak no more. − |
I think I make your
courage something quail. − |
[Exeunt other Attendants with the Governor.] |
When this is done,
we'll march from Babylon, |
And make our greatest
haste to Persiä. |
These jades are
broken-winded and half tired; |
Unharness them, and
let me have fresh horse. |
[Attendants unharness the Kings of Trebizond |
and Soria.] |
So, now their best is
done to honour me, |
Take them and hang
them both up presently. |
K. of Treb. Vile
tyrant! Barbarous bloody Tamburlaine! |
Tamb. Take them away, Theridamas; see them dispatched. |
Ther. I will, my lord. |
[Exit with the Kings of Trebizond and Soria.] |
Tamb. Come, Asian viceroys, to your tasks a while, |
And take such fortune
as your fellows felt. |
Orc. First
let thy Scythian horse tear both our limbs, |
Rather than we should
draw thy chariot, |
And, like base slaves,
abject our princely minds |
To vile and
ignominious servitude. |
K. of Jer. Rather lend me thy
weapon, Tamburlaine, |
That I may sheathe it
in this breast of mine. |
A thousand deaths
could not torment our hearts |
More than the thought
of this doth vex our souls. |
Amyr. They will talk still, my lord, if you don't bridle them. |
Tamb. Bridle them, and let me to my coach. |
[They bridle the Kings of Natolia (Orcanes) |
and Jerusalem and harness them to the chariot. |
The Governor of Babylon is seen |
hanging in chains on the walls.] |
Enter Theridamas. |
Amyr. See now, my lord, how brave the captain hangs. |
Tamb. 'Tis brave indeed, my boy; well done. |
Shoot first, my lord,
and then the rest shall follow. |
Ther. Then have at him to begin withal. |
[Theridamas shoots at the Governor.] |
Gov. Yet
save my life, and let this wound appease |
The mortal fury of
great Tamburlaine. |
Tamb. No, though Asphaltis' lake were liquid gold, |
And offered me as
ransom for thy life, |
Yet should’st thou
die. − Shoot at him all at once. |
[They shoot.] |
So, now he hangs like
Bagdet's governor, |
Having as many bullets
in his flesh |
As there be breaches
in her battered wall. − |
Go now, and bind the
burghers hand and foot, |
And cast them headlong
in the city's lake. |
Tartars and Persians
shall inhabit there, |
And, to command the
city, I will build |
A lofty citadel that
all Africa, |
Which hath been
subject to the Persian king, |
Shall pay me tribute
for in Babylon. |
Tech. What shall be done with their wives and children, |
my lord? |
Tamb. Techelles, drown them all, man, woman, and child; |
Leave not a Babylonian
in the town. |
Tech. I will about it straight. Come, soldiers. |
[Exit with Soldiers.] |
Tamb. Now, Casane, where's the Turkish Alcoran, |
And all the heaps of
superstitious books |
Found in the temples
of that Mahomet, |
Whom I have thought a
god? They shall be burnt. |
Usum. Here they are, my lord. |
Tamb. Well said; let there be a fire presently. |
[They light a fire.] |
In vain, I see, men
worship Mahomet: |
My sword hath sent
millions of Turks to hell, |
Slew all his priests,
his kinsmen, and his friends, |
And yet I live
untouched by Mahomet. |
There is a God, full
of revenging wrath, |
From whom the thunder
and the lightning breaks, |
Whose scourge I am,
and him will I obey. |
So, Casane, fling them
in the fire. |
[They burn the books.] |
Now, Mahomet, if thou
have any power, |
Come down thyself and
work a miracle: |
Thou art not worthy to
be worshipped, |
That suffers flames of
fire to burn the writ |
Wherein the sum of thy
religion rests. |
Why send'st thou not a
furious whirlwind down |
To blow thy Alcoran up
to thy throne, |
Where men report thou
sit'st by God himself? |
Or vengeance on the
head of Tamburlaine |
That shakes his sword
against thy majesty, |
And spurns the
abstracts of thy foolish laws? − |
Well, soldiers,
Mahomet remains in hell; |
He cannot hear the
voice of Tamburlaine; |
Seek out another
Godhead to adore, |
The God that sits in
Heaven, if any god, |
For he is God alone,
and none but he. |
Enter Techelles. |
Tech. I have fulfilled your highness' will, my lord. |
Thousands of men,
drowned in Asphaltis' lake, |
Have made the waters
swell above the banks, |
And fishes, fed by
human carcasses, |
Amazed, swim up and
down upon the waves, |
As when they swallow
assafœtida, |
Which makes them fleet
aloft and gasp for air. |
Tamb. Well then, my friendly lords, what now remains, |
But that we leave
sufficient garrison |
And presently depart
to Persiä, |
To triumph after all
our victories? |
Ther. Ay, good my lord; let us in haste to Persia; |
And let this captain
be removed the walls |
To some high hill
about the city here. |
Tamb. Let it be so; about it, soldiërs; |
But stay; I feel
myself distempered suddenly. |
Tech. What is it dares distemper Tamburlaine? |
Tamb. Something, Techelles; but I know not what. − |
But forth, ye vassals!
whatsoe'er it be, |
Sickness or death can
never conquer me. |
[Exeunt.] |
ACT V, SCENE II. |
Enter Callapine, the King of Amasia, |
A Captain and Soldiers, with drums and trumpets. |
Call. King of Amasia, now our mighty host |
Marcheth in Asia
Major, where the streams |
Of Euphrates and
Tigris swiftly run, |
And here may we behold
great Babylon, |
Circled about with
Limnasphaltis' lake, |
Where Tamburlaine with
all his army lies, |
Which being faint and
weary with the siege, |
We may lie ready to
encounter him |
Before his host be
full from Babylon, |
And so revenge our
latest grievous loss, |
If God or Mahomet send
any aid. |
K. of Amas. Doubt
not, my lord, but we shall conquer him. |
The monster that hath
drunk a sea of blood, |
And yet gapes still
for more to quench his thirst, |
Our Turkish swords
shall headlong send to hell, |
And that vile carcass,
drawn by warlike kings, |
The fowls shall eat;
for never sepulchre |
Shall grace this
base-born tyrant Tamburlaine. |
Call. When I
record my parents' slavish life, |
Their cruèl death,
mine own captivity, |
My viceroys' bondage
under Tamburlaine, |
Methinks I could
sustain a thousand deaths |
To be revenged of all
his villainy. − |
Ah, sacred Mahomet! thou
that hast seen |
Millions of Turks
perish by Tamburlaine, |
Kingdoms made waste,
brave cities sacked and burnt, |
And but one host is
left to honour thee, |
Aid thy obedient
servant, Callapine, |
And make him, after
all these overthrows, |
To triumph over cursèd
Tamburlaine. |
K. of Amas. Fear
not, my lord; I see great Mahomet, |
Clothèd in purple
clouds, and on his head |
A chaplet brighter
than Apollo's crown, |
Marching about the air
with armèd men, |
To join with you
against this Tamburlaine. |
Capt. Renownèd
general, mighty Callapine, |
Though God himself and
holy Mahomet |
Should come in person
to resist your power, |
Yet might your mighty
host encounter all, |
And pull proud
Tamburlaine upon his knees |
To sue for mercy at
your highness' feet. |
Call. Captain,
the force of Tamburlaine is great, |
His fortune greater,
and the victories |
Wherewith he hath so
sore dismayed the world |
Are greatest to
discourage all our drifts; |
Yet when the pride of
Cynthia is at full, |
She wanes again, and
so shall his, I hope; |
For we have here the
chief selected men |
Of twenty several
kingdoms at the least; |
Nor ploughman, priest,
nor merchant, stays at home; |
All Turkey is in arms
with Callapine; |
And never will we
sunder camps and arms |
Before himself or his
be conquerèd. |
This is the time that
must etérnize me |
For conquering the
tyrant of the world. |
Come, soldiers, let us
lie in wait for him, |
And if we find him
absent from his camp, |
Or that it be rejoined
again at full, |
Assail it and be sure
of victory. |
[Exeunt.] |
ACT V, SCENE III. |
Enter Theridamas, Techelles, and Usumcasane. |
Ther. Weep, heavens, and vanish into liquid tears! |
Fall, stars that
govern his nativity, |
And summon all the
shining lamps of Heaven |
To cast their bootless
fires to the earth, |
And shed their feeble
influence in the air; |
Muffle your beauties
with eternal clouds, |
For Hell and Darkness
pitch their pitchy tents, |
And Death, with armies
of Cimmerian spirits, |
Gives battle 'gainst
the heart of Tamburlaine! |
Now in defiance of
that wonted love |
Your sacred virtues
poured upon his throne, |
And made his state an
honour to the heavens, |
These cowards
invisibly assail his soul, |
And threaten conquest
on our sovereign; |
But if he die your
glories are disgraced; |
Earth droops and says
that hell in Heaven is placed. |
Tech. O then, ye powers that sway eternal seats |
And guide this massy
substance of the earth, |
If you retain desert
of holiness, |
As your supreme
estates instruct our thoughts, |
Be not inconstant,
careless of your fame, − |
Bear not the burden of
your enemies' joys |
Triumphing in his fall
whom you advanced, |
But as his birth,
life, health, and majesty |
Were strangely blest
and governèd by Heaven, |
So honour, Heaven,
(till Heaven dissolvèd be) |
His birth, his life, his
health, and majesty! |
Usum. Blush, Heaven, to lose the honour of thy name! |
To see thy footstool
set upon thy head! |
And let no baseness in
thy haughty breast |
Sustain a shame of
such inexcellence, |
To see the devìls
mount in angels' thrones, |
And angels dive into
the pools of hell! |
And though they think
their painful date is out, |
And that their powèr
is puissant as Jove's, |
Which makes them
manage arms against thy state, |
Yet make them feel the
strength of Tamburlaine, |
(Thy instrument and
note of majesty,) |
Is greater far than
they can thus subdue: |
For if he die, thy
glory is disgraced; |
Earth droops and says
that hell in Heaven is placed. |
Enter Tamburlaine drawn by captive kings |
as before, with Amyras, Celebinus, and Physicians. |
Tamb. What daring god torments my body thus, |
And seeks to conquer
mighty Tamburlaine? |
Shall sickness prove
me now to be a man, |
That have been termed
the terror of the world? |
Techelles and the
rest, come, take your swords, |
And threaten him whose
hand afflicts my soul. |
Come, let us march
against the powers of Heaven, |
And set black
streamers in the firmament, |
To signify the
slaughter of the gods. |
Ah, friends, what
shall I do? I cannot stand. |
Come carry me to war
against the gods |
That thus envy the health
of Tamburlaine. |
Ther. Ah, good my lord, leave these impatient words, |
Which add much danger
to your malady. |
Tamb. Why, shall I sit and languish in this pain? |
No, strike the drums,
and in revenge of this, |
Come, let us charge
our spears and pierce his breast, |
Whose shoulders bear
the axis of the world, |
That, if I perish,
Heaven and earth may fade. |
Theridamas, haste to
the court of Jove, |
Will him to send
Apollo hither straight |
To cure me, or I'll
fetch him down myself. |
Tech. Sit still, my gracious lord; this grief will cease, |
And cannot last, it is
so violent. |
Tamb. Not last, Techelles? – No! for I shall die. |
See where my slave,
the ugly monster, Death, |
Shaking and quivering,
pale and wan for fear, |
Stands aiming at me
with his murdering dart, |
Who flies away at
every glance I give, |
And when I look away,
comes stealing on. − |
Villain, away, and hie
thee to the field! |
I and mine army come
to load thy back |
With souls of thousand
mangled carcasses. − |
Look, where he goes; but
see, he comes again, |
Because I stay:
Techelles, let us march |
And weary Death with
bearing souls to hell. |
1st
Phys. Pleaseth your majesty to drink this potion, |
Which will abate the
fury of your fit, |
And cause some milder
spirits govern you. |
Tamb. Tell me what think you of my sickness now? |
1st
Phys. I viewed your urine, and the hypostasis, |
Thick and obscure,
doth make your danger great; |
Your veins are full of
accidental heat, |
Whereby the moisture
of your blood is dried. |
The humidum and calor,
which some hold |
Is not a parcel of the
elements, |
But of a substance
more divine and pure, |
Is almost clean
extinguishèd and spent; |
Which, being the cause
of life, imports your death. |
Besides, my lord, this
day is critical, |
Dangerous to those whose
crisis is as yours. |
Your artiers, which
alongst the veins convey |
The lively spirits
which the heart engenders, |
Are parched and void
of spirits, that the soul, |
Wanting those organons
by which it moves, |
Cannot endure, by
argument of art. |
Yet, if your majesty
may escape this day, |
No doubt but you shall
soon recover all. |
Tamb. Then will I comfort all my vital parts, |
And live, in spite of
death, above a day. |
[Alarm within.] |
Enter a Messenger. |
Mess. My
lord, young Callapine, that lately fled from |
your majesty, hath now
gathered a fresh army, and |
hearing your absence
in the field, offers to set upon |
us presently. |
Tamb. See, my physicians, now, how Jove hath sent |
A present medicine to
recure my pain. |
My looks shall make
them fly, and might I follow, |
There should not one
of all the villains's power |
Live to give offer of
another fight. |
Usum. I joy, my lord, your highness is so strong, |
That can endure so
well your royal presence, |
Which only will dismay
the enemy. |
Tamb. I know it will, Casane. − Draw, you slaves; |
In spite of death, I
will go show my face. |
[Alarums. Exit Tamburlaine and the rest, |
with the exception of the Physicians. |
They all presently reenter.] |
Thus are the villain
cowards fled for fear, |
Like summer's vapours
vanished by the sun; |
And could I but a
while pursue the field, |
That Callapine should
be my slave again. |
But I perceive my
martial strength is spent. |
In vain I strive and
rail against those powers |
That mean t' invest me
in a higher throne, |
As much too high for
this disdainful earth. |
Give me a map; then
let me see how much |
Is left for me to
conquer all the world, |
That these, my boys,
may finish all my wants. |
[One brings a map.] |
Here I began to march
towards Persiä, |
Along Armenia and the
Caspian Sea, |
And thence unto
Bithynia, where I took |
The Turk and his great
Empress prisoners. |
Then marched I into
Egypt and Arabia; |
And here, not far from
Alexandria, |
Whereas the Terrene
and the Red Sea meet, |
Being distant less than
full a hundred leagues, |
I meant to cut a
channel to them both, |
That men might quickly
sail to India. |
From thence to Nubia
near Borno lake, |
And so along the
Æthiopian sea, |
Cutting the tropic
line of Capricorn, |
I conquered all as far
as Zanzibar. |
Then, by the northern
part of Africa, |
I came at last to
Graecia, and from thence |
To Asia, where I stay
against my will; |
Which is from Scythia,
where I first began, |
Backward and forwards
near five thousand leagues. |
Look here, my boys;
see, what a world of ground |
Lies westward from the
midst of Cancer's line, |
Unto the rising of
this earthly globe; |
Whereas the sun,
declining from our sight, |
Begins the day with
our Antipodes! |
And shall I die, and
this unconquerèd? |
Lo, here, my sons, are
all the golden mines, |
Inestimable drugs and
precious stones, |
More worth than Asia
and the world beside; |
And from th' Antarctic
Pole eastward behold |
As much more land,
which never was descried, |
Wherein are rocks of
pearl that shine as bright |
As all the lamps that
beautify the sky! |
And shall I die, and
this unconquerèd? |
Here, lovely boys;
what death forbids my life, |
That let your lives
command in spite of death. |
Amyr. Alas, my lord, how should our bleeding hearts, |
Wounded and broken
with your highness' grief, |
Retain a thought of
joy or spark of life? |
Your soul gives
essence to our wretched subjects, |
Whose matter is
incorporate in your flesh. |
Celeb. Your pains do pierce our souls; no hope survives, |
For by your life we
entertain our lives. |
Tamb. But, sons, this subject, not of force enough |
To hold the fiery
spirit it contains, |
Must part, imparting
his impressiöns |
By equal portions into
both your breasts. |
My flesh, divided in
your precious shapes, |
Shall still retain my
spirit, though I die, |
And live in all your
seeds immortally. |
Then now remove me,
that I may resign |
My place and proper
title to my son. − |
First, take my scourge
and my imperial crown, |
And mount my royal
chariot of estate, |
That I may see thee
crowned before I die. − |
Help me, my lords, to
make my last remove. |
[They lift him from the chariot.] |
Ther. A woful change, my lord, that daunts our thoughts |
More than the ruin of
our proper souls! |
Tamb. Sit up, my son; let me see how well |
Thou wilt become thy
father's majesty. |
Amyr. With what a flinty bosom should I joy |
The breath of life and
burthen of my soul; |
If not resolved into
resolvèd pains, |
My body's mortifièd
lineaments |
Should exercise the
motions of my heart, |
Pierced with the joy
of any dignity! |
O father, if the
unrelenting ears |
Of death and hell be
shut against my prayers, |
And that the spiteful
influence of Heaven |
Deny my soul fruition
of her joy; |
How should I step or
stir my hateful feet |
Against the inward
powers of my heart, |
Leading a life that
only strives to die, |
And plead in vain
unpleasing sovereignty? |
Tamb. Let not thy love exceed thine honour, son, |
Nor bar thy mind that
magnanimity |
That nobly must admit
necessity. |
Sit up, my boy, and
with these silken reins |
Bridle the steelèd
stomachs of those jades. |
Ther. My lord, you must obey his majesty, |
Since fate commands
and proud necessity. |
Amyr. Heavens witness me with what a broken heart |
And damnèd spirit I
ascend this seat, |
And send my soul,
before my father die, |
His anguish and his
burning agony! |
[They crown Amyras.] |
Tamb. Now fetch the hearse of fair Zenocrate; |
Let it be placed by
this my fatal chair, |
And serve as parcel of
my funeral. |
Usum. Then feels your majesty no sovereign ease, |
Nor may our hearts,
all drowned in tears of blood, |
Joy any hope of your
recovery? |
Tamb. Casane, no. The monarch of the earth, |
And eyeless monster
that torments my soul, |
Cannot behold the
tears ye shed for me, |
And therefore still augments
his cruèlty. |
Tech. Then let some god oppose his holy power |
Against the wrath and
tyranny of Death, |
That his tear-thirsty
and unquenchèd hate |
May be upon himself
reverberate! |
[They bring in the hearse of Zenocrate.] |
Tamb. Now, eyes, enjoy your latest benefit, |
And when my soul hath
virtue of your sight, |
Pierce through the
coffin and the sheet of gold, |
And glut your longings
with a heaven of joy. |
So reign, my son;
scourge and control those slaves, |
Guiding thy chariot
with thy father's hand. |
As precious is the
charge thou undertakest |
As that which
Clymene's brainsick son did guide, |
When wandering
Phoebe's ivory cheeks were scorched, |
And all the earth,
like Ætna, breathing fire. |
Be warned by him,
then; learn with awful eye |
To sway a throne as
dangerous as his; |
For if thy body thrive
not full of thoughts |
As pure and fiery as
Phyteus' beams, |
The nature of these
proud rebelling jades |
Will take occasion by
the slenderest hair |
And draw thee
piecemeal, like Hippolitus, |
Through rocks more
steep and sharp than Caspian cliffs. |
The nature of thy
chariot will not bear |
A guide of baser
temper than myself, |
More than Heaven's
coach the pride of Phaeton. |
Farewell, my boys; my
dearest friends, farewell! |
My body feels, my soul
doth weep to see |
Your sweet desires
deprived my company, |
For Tamburlaine, the
scourge of God, must die. |
[He dies.] |
Amyr. Meet Heaven and Earth, and here let all things end, |
For Earth hath spent
the pride of all her fruit, |
And Heaven consumed his
choicest living fire. |
Let Earth and Heaven
his timeless death deplore, |
For both their worths
will equal him no more. |
FINIS |