ZABINA

To tamburlaine the great Tartarian thief? And sue to thee? I tell thee shameless girl, Thou shalt be Laundress to my waiting maid. How likest thou her Ebea, will she serve? Now Mahomet, solicit God himself, And make him rain down murdering shot from ̄ heaven To dash the Scythians brains, and strike them dead, That dare to manage arms with him, That offered jewels to thy sacred shrine. When first he wared against the Christians. Thou art deceived, I herd the Trumpets As when my Emperor overthrew the Greeks: And led them Captive into Africa. Straight will I use thee as thy pride deserves: Prepare thy self to live and die my slave. No tamburlain, though now thou got the best Thou shalt not yet be Lord of Africa. Unworthy king, that by thy cruelty, Unlawfully usurpest the Persean seat: Darest thou that never saw and Emperor, Before thou met my husband in the field, Being thy Captive, thus abuse his state, Keeping his kingly body in a Cage, That rooffes of gold, and sun-bright Palaces, Should have prepared to entertain his Grace? And treading him beneath thy loathsome feet, Whose feet the kings of Africa have kissed. Eat Baiazeth, Let us live in spite of them, Looking some happy power will pity and enlarge us. What do mine eyes behold, my husband dead? His Skul all riuin in twain, his brains dashed out?: The brains of Baiazeth, my Lord and Sovereign?: Oh Baiazeth, my husband and my Lord, Oh Bajazet, Oh Turk, Oh Emperor, give him his liquour Not I, bring milk and fire, and my blood I bring him again, tear me in pieces, give me the sword with a ball of wildefire upon it. Down with him, down with him. Go to my child, away, away, away. Ah, save that Infant, save him, save him. I, even I speak to her, the Sun was down. Streamers white. Read, Black, here here, here. Fling the meat in his face. Tamburlaine, tamburlaine, Let the soldiers be buried. Hell, death, tamburlain, Hell, make ready my Coach, my chair, my jewels, I come, I come, I come. Wretched Zenocrate, that livest to see, Damascus walls died with Egytian blood. Thy Father's subjects and thy countrymen: Thy streets strowed with dissevered joints of men, And wounded bodies gasping yet for life. But most accursed, to see the Sun-bright troop Of heavenly vyrgins and unspotted maids, Whose looks might make the angry God of arms, To break his sword, and mildly treat of love, On horsmens Lances to be hoist up, And guiltlesly endure a cruel death. For every fell and stout Tartarian Stead, That stamped on others with their thundering hooves When all their riders chardg'd their quivering spears Began to check the ground, and rain themselves: Gazing upon the beauty of their looks: Ah Tamburlaine, Wertenberg thou the cause of this That termest Zenocrate thy dearest love? Whose lives were dearer to Zenocrate Than her own life, or ought save thine own love. But see another bloody spectacle. Ah wretched eyes, the enemies of my heart, How are you glutted with these grievous objects, And tell my soul mor tales of bleeding ruth? See, see Anippe if they breathe or no. Such good success happen to Baiazeth, Base Concubine, must thou be placed by me That am the Empress of the mighty Turk? Injurious villains, thiefs, runagates, How dare you thus abuse my Majesty? Though he be prisoner, he may be ransomed: Oh cursed Mahomet that makest us thus The slaves to Scythians rude and barbarous. And may this banquet prove as ominous, As Prognes to th'adulterous Thracian King. That fed upon the substance of his child. Let all the swords and Lances in the field, Stick in his breast, as in their proper rooms, At every poor let blood comme dropping forth. That lingering pains may massacre his heart. And madness send his danmed soul to hell. Then is there left no Mahomet, no God, No Fiend, no Fortune, nor no hope of end? To our infamous monstrous slaveries: Gape earth, and let the Fiends infernal view, As hell, as hopeless and as full of fear As are the blasted banks of Erebus: Where shaking ghosts with ever howling groans, Hover about the ugly Ferryman, to get a passage to E lisia ̄ why should we live, Oh wretches, beggars slaves Why live we Baiazeth, and built up nests, So high within the region of the air, By living long in this oppression, That all the world will see and laugh to scorn. The former triumphs of our mightiness, In this obscure infernal servitude: Sweet Baiazeth, I will prolong thy life, As long as any blood or spark of breath Can quench or cool the torments of my grief.