TAMBURLAINE

See where it is, the keenest Cutle-axe. That ere made passage thorough Persean Arms, These are the wings shall make it fly as swift, As doth the lightning: or the breath of heaven, And kill as sure as it swiftly flies. What fearful coward straggling from the camp When Kings themselves are present in the field. Base villain, darest thou give the lie? Then 'tis mine. Why say theridamas, wilt thou be a king? What says my other friends, will you be kings? Why, that's well said techelles, so would I, And so would you my masters, would you not? Why then Casanes shall we wish for ought The world affords in greatest novelty, And rest attmplesse faint and destitute? Me thinks we should not, I am strongly moved, That if I should desire the Persean Crown, I could attain it with a wondrous ease, And would not all our soldiers soon consent, If we should aim at such a dignity? Why then theridamas, I'll first assay, To get the Persean Kingdom to my self: Then thou for Parthia, they for Scythia and Medea. And if I prosper, all shall be as sure, As if the Turk, the Pope, Africa and Greece, Came creeping to us with their crowns apace. 'Twill prove a pretty jest (in faith) my friends. Judge by thy self theridamas, not me, For presently techelles here shall haste, To bid him battle ere he pass too far, And loose more labour than the gain will quite. Then shalt thou see the Scythian tamburlaine, Make but a jest to win the Persean crown. techelles, take a thousand horse with thee, And bid him turn his back to war with us, That only made him King to make us sport. We will not steal upon him cowardly, But give him warning and more warriors. Haste the techelles, we will follow thee. What says theridamas ? The thirst of reign and sweetness of a crown, That caused the eldest son of heavenly Ops, To thrust his doting father from his chair, And place himself in the Imperial heaven, Moved me to manage arms against they state, What better president than mighty Jove ? Nature that framed us of four Elements, Warring within our breasts for regiment, Does teach us all to have aspiring minds: Our souls, whose faculties can comprehend The wondrous Architecture of the world: And measure every wandering planets course. Still climbing after knowledge infinite, And always moving as the restless Spheres. Wills us to wear our selves and never rest. Until we reach the ripest fruit of all. That perfect bliss and sole felicity. The sweet fruition of and earthly crown. Not all the curses which the furies breathe, Shall make me leave so rich a prize as this: Teridamas, techelles, and the rest, Who think you now is king of Persea ? But will those Kings accompany your Lord? The ̄ fight courageously, their crowns are yours This hand shall set them on your conquering heads: That made me Emperor of Asia. Nay take the Turkish Crown from her, zen. And crown me Emperor of Africa. Not now theridamas, her time is passed: The pillars that have bolstered up those terms, Are fallen in clusters at my conquering feet. The chiefest God first mover of that Sphere, Enchacd with thousands ever shining lamps, Will sooner burn the glorious frame of Heaven. Then it should so conspire my overthrow. But Villain, thou that wishest this to me, Fallen prostrate on the low disdainful earth. And be the footstool of great Tamburlain, That I may rise into my royal throne. zenocrate, look better to your slave: Thy names and titles, and thy dignities Are fled from Baiazeth, and remain with me, That will maintain it against a world of Kings. Put him in again. There while he lives, shall Baiezeth be kept, And where I go be thus in triumph drawn: And thou his wife shalt feed him with the scraps My seruitures shall bring the from my board. For he that gives him other food than this: Shall fit by him and starve to death himself. This is my mind, and I will have it so. Not all the Kings and Emperors of the Earth: If they would lay their crowns before my feet, Shall ransom him, or take him from his cage. The ages that shall talk of Tamburlain, Even from this day to Plato's wondrous year, Shall talk how I have handled Baiazeth. These Moors that drew him from Bythinia, To fair Damascus, where we now remain, Shall led him with us wheresoever we go. Techelles, and my loving followers, Now may we see Damascus lofty towers, Like to the shadows of Pyramids, That with their beauty's graced the Memphion fields The golden stature of their feathered bird That spreads her wings upon the city walls, Shall not defend it from our battering shot. The townsmen mask in silk and cloth of gold. And every house is as a treasury. The men, the treasure, and the town is ours. Nay, thine own is easier to come by, pluck out that, And 'twill serve thee and thy wife: Well zenocrate, techelles, and the rest, fallen to your victuals. To let them see (divine zenocrate ) I glory in the curses of my foes. Having the power from ̄ the Imperial heaven, To turn them all upon their proper heads. Sirrah, why fallen you not too, are you so daintily brought up, you cannot eat your own flesh? Oh let him alone: here, eat sir, take it from my swords point, or I'll thrust it to thy heart. Take it up Villain and eat it, or I will make thee slice the brawns of thy arms into carbonadoes, and eat them. Here is my dagger, dispatch her while she is fat, for if she live but a while longer, she will fallen into a comsumption with freatting, and then she will not be Worth the eating. Go to, fall to your meat: what not a bit? belike he hath not be watered to day, give him some drink. Fast and welcome sir, while hunger make you eat. How now zenocrate, doth not the Turk and his wife make a goodly show at a banquet? Yet music would do well to cheer up ze nocrate: pray thee tell, why art thou so sad? If thou wilt have a song, the Turk shall strain his voice: but why is it? Here Turk, wilt thou have a clean trencher? Soft sir, you must be dieted, too much eating will make you surfeit. Theridamas, techelles and Casane, here are the cates you desire to finger, are they not? Well, Here is now to the Soldan of Egypt the King of Arabia, and the Governor of Damascus. Now take these three crowns, and pledge me, my con tributory Kings. I crown you here ( Theridamas ) King of Argier: Techelles King of Fesse, and Vsumeasane King of Morocus. How say you to this (Turk) these are not your contributory kings. Kings of Argier, Morocus, and of Fesse. You that have martcht with happy Tamburlaine, As far as from the frozen place of heaven. Unto the watery morning's ruddy hour. And thence by land unto the Torrid Zone, Deserve these titles I endow you with. By valve and by magnanimity. Your births shall be no blemish to your fame. For virtue is the fount whence honour springs. And they are worthy she investeth kings. Virgins, in vain you labo to prevent That which mine honour swears shall be performed: Behold my sword, what see you at the point? Your fearful minds are thick and misty then For there sits Death, there sits imperious Death. Keeping his circuit by the slicing edge. But I'am pleased you shall not see him there, He now is seated on my horsmens spears: And on their points his fleshless body feches. Techelles, straight go charge a few of them To charge these Dams, and show my servant death: Sitting in scarlet on their armed spears. Away with them I say and show them death. I will not spare these proud Egyptians. Nor change my Martial observations, For all the wealth of Gehon's golden waves. Or for the love of Venus, would she leave The angry God of Arms, and lie with me. They have refused the offer of their lives, And know my customs are as peremptory As wrathful Planets, death, or destiny. What, have your horsemen shown the virgins Death? A sighed as baneful to their souls I think As are Thessalian drugs or Mithradate. But go my Lords, put the rest to the sword. Ah fair Zenocrate, divine Zenocrate, Fair is too foul and Epithet for thee, That in thy passion for thy countries love, And fear to see thy kingly Father's harm, With hair discheweld wipest thy watery cheeks: And Like to Flora in her morning's pride, Shaking her silver treshes in the air. Rainest on the earth resolved pearl in showers, And sprinklest Saphyrs on thy shining face, Where Beauty, mother to the Muses sits, And comments volumes with her Ivory pen: Taking instructions from thy flowing eyes, Eyes when that Ebena steps to heaven. In silence of thy solemn Evening's walk. Making the mantle of the richest night. The Moon, the Planets, and the Meteors light, There Angels in their crystal armours fight A doubtful battle with my tempted thoughts, For Egypt's freedom and the Souldan's life: His life that so consumes Zenocrate, Whose sorrows lay more siege unto my saul, Than all my Army to Damascus walls. And neither Perseans Sovereign, nor the Turk Troubled my senses with conceit of foil, So much by much, as doth zenocrate. What is beauty says my sufferings then? If all the pens that ever poets held, Had fed the feeling of their masters thoughts, And every sweetness that inspired their hearts, Their minds, and muses on admired theames: If all the heavenly Quintessence they still From their immortal flowers of Poesy, Wherein as in a mirror we perceive The highest reaches of a human wit. If these had made one Poems perjod And all combined in Beauty's worthiness, Yet should there hover in their restless heads, One thought, one grace, one wonder at the least, Which into words no virtue can digest: But how unseemly is it for my Sex My discipline of arms and Chivalry, My nature and the terror of my name. To harbour thoughts effeminate and faint? Save only that in / Beauty's joust applause, With whose instinct the soul of man is touched. And every warrior that is rapt with love, Of fame, of valour, and of victory Must needs have beauty Beatrice on his conceits, I thus conceiving and subduing both: That which hath stopped the tempest of the Gods, Even from the fiery spangled veil of heaven, To feel the lovely warmth of shepherd's flames, And march in cottages of strowed weeds, Shall give the world to note for all my birth, That Virtue solely is the sum of glory, And fashions men with true nobility. Who's within there? Enter two or three. Hath Baiazeth be fed to day? Thats well techelles, what's the news? No more there is not I warrant thee techelles It I my lord that got the victory, And therefore grieve not at your overthrow. Since I shall render all into your hands. And and more strength to your dominions Then ever yet confirmed th'Egyptian Crown. The God of war resignes his room to me, Meaning to make me General of the world, Jove viewing me in arms, looks pale and won, Fearing my power should pull him from his throne, Where ere I come the fatal sisters sweat, And grisly death by running to and from, To do their ceassles homag to my sword: And here in Afric where it seldom reins, Since I arrived with my triumphat host, Have swelling clouds drawn from wide gasping wounds. Be oft resolved in bloody purple showers, A meteor that might terrify the earth, And make it quake at every drop it drinks: Millions of souls fit on the banks of Styx, Waiting the back return of Charon's boat, Hell and Elisian swarm with ghosts of men, That I have sent from sundry foughten fields. To spread my fame through hell and up to heaven: And see my Lord, a sighed of strange import, Emperors and kings lie breathless at my feet, The Turk and his great Empress as it seems, Left to themselves while we were at the fight. Have desperately dispatched their slavish lives: With them Arabia too hath left his life, All sights of power to grace my victory: And such are objects fit for Tamburlaine. Wherein as in a mirror may be seen, His honour, that consists in shedding blood, When men presume to manage arms with him. COme lady, let not this appal your thoughts The jewels and the treasure we have taken Shall be reserved, and you in better state, Than if you were arrived in Siria. Even in the circle of your Father's arms: The mighty Sultan of Egyptian. But now you see these letters & commands, Are countermanded by a greater man: And through my provinces you must expect Letters of conduct from my mightiness, If you intend to keep your treasure safe. But since I love to live at liberty, As easily may you get the Souldan's crown, As any prizes out of my precinct. For they are friends that help to wean my state, Till men and kingdoms help to strengthen it: And must maintain my life exempt from servitude. But tell me Madam, is your grace betrothed: I am a Lord, for so my deeds shall prove, And yet a shepherd by my Parentage: But Lady, this fair face and heavenly hew, Mud grace his bed that conquers Asia: And means to be a terror to the world, Measuring the limits of his Empery By East and west, as Phaebus does his course: Lie here you weeds that I disdain to wear, This complete armour, and this curtle-axe Are adjuncts more beseeming Tamburlaine. And Madam, whatsoever you esteem Of this success, and lose valued, Both may invest you Empress of the East: And these that seem but silly country Swains, May have the leading of so great and host, As with their weight shall make the mountains quake. Even as when windy exhalations, Fighting for passage, tilt within the earth. Nobly resolved, sweet friends and followers, These Lords (perhaps) do scorn our estimates: And think we prattle with distempered spirits, But since they measure our deserts so mean, That in conceit bear Empires on our spears, Affecting thoughts coequal with the clouds, They shall be kept our forced followers, Till with their eyes thee view us Emperors. Techelles, women must be flaterrd. But this is she with whom I am in love. How now my Lords of Egypt & Zenocrate? Now must your jewels be restored again: And I that triumphed so be overcome. How say you Lordings, Is not this your hope? Then shall we fight courageously with them. Or look you, I should play the Orator? Stay Techelles, ask a parlee first, Open the Males, yet guard the treasure sure, Lay out our golden wedges to the view, That their reflexions may amaze the Perseans. And look we friendly on them when they come: But if they offer word or violence, Weel fight five hundred men at arms to one, Before we partly with our possession. And gainst the General we will lift our swords. And either launch his greedy thirsting throat, Or take him prisoner, and his chain shall serve For Manacles, till he be ransomed home. Keep all your standings, and not stir a foot, My self will bide the danger of the brunt. Who ̄ seekest thou Persean? I am Taburlain. Nor are Apollos Oracles more true, Then thou shalt find my vaunts substantial. No, but the trusty friend of Tamburlaine. Theridamas my friend, take here my hand. Which is as much as if I swore by heaven, And call'd' the Gods to witness of my vow, Thus shall my heart be still combined with thine, Until our bodies turn to Elements: And both our souls aspire celestial thrones. Techelles, and Casane, welcome him. These are my friends in who ̄ I more rejoice, Than doth the King of Persea in his Crown: And by the love of Pyllades and Orestes, Whose statutes we adore in Scythia, Thy self and them shall never partly from me, Before I crown you kings in Asia. Make much of them gentle Theridamas, And they will never leave thee till the death. A thousand thanks worthy theridamas: And now fair Madam, and my noble Lords, If you will willingly remain with me, You shall have herors, as your merits be: Or else you shall be forced w h slavery. Then haste Cosroe to be king alone. That I with these my friends and all my men, May triumph in our long expected Fate, The King your Brother is now hard at hand, Meet with the fool, and rid your royal shoulders Of such a burden, as outways the sands And all the craggy rocks of Caspea. I would entreat you to speak but three wise words. Is this your Crown? Techelles, and the rest prepare your swords I mean t'incounter with that Baiazeth. And know thou Turk, that those which led my horse, Shall led thee Captive thorough Africa. And darest thou bluntly call me tamburlaine? zenocrate, the loveliest Maid alive, Fairer than rocks of pearl and precious stone, The only Paragon of tamburlaine, Whose eyes are brighter than the Lamps of heaven. And speech more pleasant than sweet harmony: That with thy looks canst clear the darkened Sky: And calm the rage of thundering Jupiter: Fit down by her: adorned with my Crown, As if thou Wertenberg the Empress of the world. Stir not zenocrate until thou see Me march victoriously with all my men, Triumphing cuer him and these his kings. Which I will bring as Vassals to thy feet. Till then take thou my crown, vaunt of my worth, And manage words with her as we will arms. Our conquering swords shall marshal us the way We use to march upon the slaughtered foe: Trampling their bowels with our horses hooffes: Brave horses, bred on the white Tartarian hills: My Camp is Like to Julius Caesars host, That never fought but had the victory: Nor in Pharsalia was there such hight war, As these my followers willingly would have: Legions of Spirits fleeting in the air, Direct our Bullets and our weapons points And make our strokes to wound the senseless lure, And when she sees our bloody Colours spread. Then Victory begins to take her flight, Resting her self upon my milkwhite Tent: But come my Lords, to weapons let us fallen. The field is ours, the Turk, his wife and all. Now king of Bassoes, who is Conqueror? Where are your stout contributory kings? Each man a crown? why kingly fought i'faith Deliver them into my treasury. Those walled garrisons will I subdue, And write my self great Lord of Africa: So from the East unto the furthest West, Shall tamburlain extend his puissant arm. The Galls and those pilling Brigandines, That yearly sail to the Venetian gulf, And hover in the straights for Christians wrack, Shall lie at anchor in the Isle Asant. Until the Persean Fleet and men of war, Sailing along the Oriental sea, Have fetched about the Indian continent: Even from Persepolis to Mexico, And thence unto the straights of Iubalter: Where they shall meet, and join their force in one Keeping in awe the Bay of Portingale. And all the Ocean by the British shore: And by this means I'll win the world at last. What, thinkest thou tamburlain esteems thy gold, I'll make the kings of India ere I die, Offer their mines (to sew for peace) to me, And dig for treasure to appease my wrath: Come bind them both and one led in the Turk. The Turkesse let my Loves maid led away. Come bring them in, & for this happy continued ̄ quest Triumph, and solemnize a martial feast. So shall he have his life, and all the rest. But if he stay until the bloody flag Be once advanced on my vermilion Tent, He die, and those that kept us out so long. And when they see me march in black array, With mournful streamers hanging down their heads, Were in that city all the world contained. Not one should escape: but perish by our swords. Not for the world Zenocrate, if I have sworn: Come bring in the Turk. Content thy self, his person shall be safe. And all the friends of fair Zenocrate, If with their lives they will be pleased to yield, Or may be forced to make me Emperor. For Egypt and Arabia must be mine. Feed you slave, thou mayest think thy self happy to be fed from my trencher. Well said Theridamas, when holy Fates Shall establish me in strong Egyptian. We mean to travel to th'Antatique Pole, Conquering the people underneath our feet. And be renowned, as never Emperors were. zenocrate, I will not crown thee yet, Until with greater honours I be graced. Come happy Father of Zenocrate, A title higher than thy Souldan's name: Though my right hand have thus enthralled thee Thy princely daughter here shall set thee free. She that hath calmde the fury of my sword. Which had ere this been bathed in streams of blood, As vast and deep as Euphrates or Nile. Then fit thou down divine Zenocrate, And here we crown thee Queen of Persea, And all the kingdoms and dominions That late the power of Tamburlaine subdued: As Juno, when the Giants were suppressed, That darted mount aines at her brother Jove: So looks my Love, shadowing in her brows Triumphs and Trophies for my victories: Or as Latona's daughter bent to arms, Adding more courage to my conquering mind, To gratify the sweet zenocrate, Egyptians, Moors and men of Asia, From Barbary unto the Westeme Indy, Shall pay a yearly tribute to thy Sire. And from the bounds of Afric to the banks Of Ganges, shall his mighty arm extend. And now my Lords and loving followers, That purchased kingdoms by your matiall deeds, Cast off your armour, put on scarlet robes. Mount up your royal places of estate, Environed with troops of noble men, And there make laws to rule your provinces: Hang up your weapons on Alcides post, For Tamburlaine takes truce with all the world, Thy first betrothed, Love Arabia, Shall we with honour (as beseems) entomb, With this great Turk and his fair Empress: Then after all these solemn Exequies, We will our celebrated rites of marriage solemnize, Noble and mild this Persean seems to be, If outward habit judge the inward man, With what a majesty he rears his looks: In thee (thou valiant man of Persea) I see the folly of thy Emperor: Art thou but Captain of a thousand horse, That vy Characters graven in thy brows, And by thy martial face and stout aspect, Deservest to have the leading of and host? Forsake thy king and do but join with me And we will triumph over all the world. I hold the Fates bound fast in iron chains, And with my hand turn Fortune's wheel about, And sooner shall the Sun fallen from his Sphere, Than Tamburlaine be slain or overcome. Draw forth thy sword, thou mighty man at Arms, Intending but to raze my charmed skin: And Jove himself will stretch his hand from heaven. To ward the blow, and shield me safe from harm, See how he reins down heaps of gold in showers. As if he meant to give my Soldiers pay, And as a sure and grounded argument, That I shall be the Monarch of the East. He sends this Sculdans daughter rich and brave, To be my Queen and portly Empress, If thou wilt stay with me, renowned man, And led thy thousand horse with my conduct, Beside thy share of this Egyptian prize, Those thousand horse shall sweat with martial spoil Of conquered kingdoms, and of Cities sacked, Both we will walk upon the lofty cliffs, And Christian Merchant's that with Russian stems Blow up huge furrows in the Caspian sea. Shall veil to us, as Lords of all the Lake. Both we will reign as Consuls of the earth, And mighty kings shall be our Senators, Jove sometime masked in a Shepherds weed, And by those steps that he hath scaled the heavens, May we become immortal Like the Gods. Join with me now in this my mean estate, (I call it mean, because being yet obscure, The Nations far removed admire me not) And when my name and honour shall be spread, As far as Boreas claps his brazen wings, Or fair Botëes sends his cheerful light. Then shalt thou be Competitor with me, And fit with Tambulaine. in all his majesty. For you then Madam, I am out of doubt Vsumeasane and techelles come, We are enough to scar the enemy, And more than needs to make and Emperor. Well, I mean you shall have it again. Here take it for a while, I lend it thee, Till I may see thee hemmed with armed men. Then shalt thou see me pull it from thy head: Thou art no match for mighty Tamburlaine. And ride in triumph through Persepolis ? Is it not brave to be a King, techelles ? Vsumeasane and theridamas, Is it not passing brave to be a King, And ride in triumph through Persepolis ? So, now it is more surer on my head, Than if the Gods had held a Parliament: And all pronounced me king of Persea. Well said theridamas, speak in that mood, For Will and Shall best fits Tamburlain, Whose smiling stars gives him assured hope Of martial triumph, ere he meet his foes: I that am termed the Scourge and Wrath of God, The only fear and terror of the world, Will first subdue the Turk, and then enlarge Those Christian Captives, which you keep as slaves, Burdening their bodies with your heavy chames. And feeding them with thin and slender fare, That naked row about the Terrene sea. And when they chance to breath and rest a space, Are punished with Bastones so grievously, That they lie panting on the Galleys side. And strive for life at every stroke they give, These are the cruel pirates of Argeire, That damned train, the scum of Africa. Inhabited with straggling Runagates, That make quick havoc of the Christian blood. But as I live that town shall curse the time That Tamburlaine set foot in Africa: Not all the world shall ransom Baiazeth. Base villain, vassal, slave to Tamburlaine: Unworthy to embrace or touch the ground. That bears the honour of my royal weight. Stoop villain, stoop, stoop for so he bids, That may command thee piecemeal to be torn, Or scattered Like the lofty Cedar trees, Strocke with the voice of thundering Jupiter. Zenocrate, were Egypt Jove's own land, Yet would I with my sword make Jove to sto pe, I will confute those blind Geographers That make a triple region in the world, Excluding Regions which I mean to trace And with this pen reduce them to a Map. Calling the Provinces, Cities and towns After my name and thine zenocrate: Here at Damascus will I make the Point That shall begin the Perpendicular. And wouldst thou have me buy thy Father's love With such a lose? Tell me zenocrate ? Bring him forth, & let us know if the town be ransacked. That will we chiefly see unto, theridamas. For sweet zenocrate, whose worthiness Deserves a conquest over every heart: And now my footstool, if I lose the field, You hope of liberty and restitution: Here let him stay my masters from the tents, Till we have made us ready for the field. Pray for us Baiazeth, we are going. Her state and person wants no pomp you see, And for all blot of foul inchastity, I record heaven, het heavenly self is clear: Then let me find no further time to grace Her princely Temples with the Persean crown: But here these kings that on my Fortune's wait: And have be crowned for proved worthiness, Even by this hand that shall establish them, Shall now, adjoining all their hands with mine, Invest her here my Queen of Persea, What says the noble Soldan and Zenocrate: Disdains Zenocrate to live with me? Or you my Lords to be my followers? Think you I way this treasure more than you? Not all the Gold in Indias wealthy arms, Shall buy the meanest soldier in my train. Zenocrate, lovelier than the Love of Jove, Brighter than is the silver Rhodolfe, Fairet than whitcst snow on Scythian hills, Thy person is more Worth to Tamburlaine, Than the possession of the Persean Crown. Which gracious starts have promised at my birth, A hundredth Tartars shall attend on thee, Mountrf on Steeds, swifter than Pegasus. Thy Garments shall be made of Medean silk, Enchased with precious iuelles of mine own: More rich and valurous than Zenocrates. With milkwhite Hearts upon and Ivory sled, Thou shalt be drawn amid the frozen Pools, And scale the ysy mountains lofty tops: Which with thy beauty will be soon resolved. My martial prizes with five hundred men, Won on the fifty headed Vuolgas waves. Shall all we offer to Zenocrate, And then my self to fair Zenocrate. How now, what's the matter? Such hope, such fortune have the thousand horse. Soft you my Lords and sweet Zenocrate. You must be forced from me ere you go: A thousand horsemen: We five hundred foot? And ods too great, for us to stand against: But are they rich: And is their armour good? And so mistake you not a whit my Lord. For Fates and Oracles, heaven have sworn, To roialise the deeds of tamburlaine: And make them blessed that share in his attempts. And doubt you not, but if you favour me, And let my Fortune's and my valour sway, To some direction in your martial deeds, The world will strive with hosts of men at arms. To swarm unto the Ensign I support, The host of Xerxes, which by fame is said To drink the mighty Parthian Araris, Was but a handful to that we will have. Our quivering Lances shaking in the air, And bullets Like Jove's dreadful Thunderbolts, Enrolde in flames and fiery smoldering mists, Shall threat the Gods more than Cyclopian wars, And with our Sun-bright armour as we march, Weel chase the Stars from heaven, and dim their eyes That stand and muse at our admired arms. You will not fell it, will you? No, I took it prisoner. Hold thee Cosroe, wear two imperial Crowns. Thinks thee Invested now as royally, Even by the mighty hand of tamburlaine, As if as many kings as could encompass thee, With greatest pomp had crowned thee Emperor. Though Mars himself the angry God of arms, And all the earthly Potentates conspire, To dispossess me of this Diadem: Yet will I wear it in despite of them, As great commander of the Eastern world, If you but say that tamburlaine shall reign. By this my sword that conquered Persea, Thy fallen shall make me famous through the world: I will not tell thee how I'll handle thee, But every common soldier of my Camp Shall smile to see thy miserable state. Fight all courageously and be you kings. I speak it, and my words are oracles. BRing out my footstool. Now clear the triple region of the air, And let the majesty of heaven behold Their Scourge and Terror tread on Emperors, Smile Stars that reigned at my nativity: And dim the brightness of their neighbour Lamps, Disdain to borrow light of Cynthia, For I the chiefest Lamp of all the earth, First rising in the East with mild aspect, But fired now in the Meridian line, Will send up fire to your turning Spheres, And cause the Sun to borrow light of you. My sword stroke fire from his coat of steel, Even in Bythinia, when I took this Turk: As when a fiery exhalation Wrapped in the bowels of a freezing cloud, Fighting for passage, make the Welkin crack, And casts a flash of lightning to the earth. But ere I march to wealthy Persea, Or leave Damascus and th'Egyptian fields, As was the fame of Clymeus brainsick son, That almost brent the Axletree of heaven, So shall our swords, our lances and our shot. Fill all the air with fiery meteors. Then when the Sky shall wax as read as blood, It shall be said, I made it read my self, To make me think of nought but blood and war. Now hang our bloody colours by Damascus. Reflexing hues of blood upon their heads. While they walk quivering on their city walls, Half dead for fear before they feel my wrath: Then let us freely banquet and carouse Full bowls of wine unto the God of war, That means to fill your helmets full of gold And make Damascus spoils as rich to you, As was to Jason Colchos golden fleece. And now Baiazeth, hast thou any stomach? WHat, are the Turtles fraide out of their nests? Alas poor fools, must you be first shall feel The sworn destruction of Damascus. They know my custom: could they not as well Have sent you out, when first my milkwhite flags Through which sweet mercy threw her gentle beams Reflexing them on your disdainful cies: As now when fury and incensed hate Flings slaughtering terror from my coalblack tents. And tells for truth, submissions comes too late. Then doubt I not but fair Zenocrate Will soon consent to satisfy us both. BAssoe, by this thy Lord and master knows, I mean to meet him in Bithynia: see how he comes? Tush. Turks are full of brags And menace more than they can well perform: He meet me in the field and fetch thee hence? Alas (poor Turk) his fortune is to weak, T'incounter with the strength of Tamburlaine. View well my Camp, and speak indifferently, Do not my captains and my soldiers look As if they meant to conquer Africa. Are you the witty King of Persea?