Enter Mycetes, Cosroe, Meander, Theridamas, Ortygius, Ceneus, Menaphon, with others
Brother Cosroe, I find my selfe agreev'd,
Yet insufficient to expresse the same:
For it requires a great and thundering speech:
Good brother tell the cause unto my Lords,
I know you have a better wit than I.
Unhappie Persea, that in former age
Hast bene the seat of mightie Conquerors,
That in their prowesse and their pollicies,
Have triumpht over Affrike, and the bounds
Of Europe wher the Sun dares scarce appeare,
For freezing meteors and conjealed colde:
Now to be rulde and governed by a man,
At whose byrth-day Cynthia with Saturne joinde,
And Jove, the Sun, and Mercurie denied
To shed their influence in his fickle braine,
Now Turkes and Tartars shake their swords at thee,
Meaning to mangle all thy Provinces.
Brother, I see your meaning well enough.
And thorough your Planets I perceive you thinke,
I am not wise enough to be a kinge,
But I refer me to my noble men,
That knowe my wit, and can be witnesses:
I might command you to be slaine for this,
Meander, might I not?
Not for so small a fault my soveraigne Lord.
I meane it not, but yet I know I might,
Yet live, yea, live, Mycetes wils it so:
Meander, thou my faithfull Counsellor,
Declare the cause of my conceived griefe,
Which is (God knowes) about that Tamburlaine,
That like a Foxe in midst of harvest time,
Dooth pray uppon my flockes of Passengers,
And as I heare, doth meane to pull my plumes.
Therefore tis good and meete for to be wise.
Oft have I heard your Majestie complain,
Of Tamburlaine, that sturdie Scythian thiefe,
That robs your merchants of Persepolis,
Trading by land unto the Westerne Isles,
And in your confines with his lawlesse traine,
Daily commits incivill outrages,
To raigne in Asia and with barbarous Armes
To make himselfe the Monarch of the East:
But ere he march in Asia or display
His vagrant Ensigne in the Persean fields
Your Grace hath taken order by Theridamas,
Chardg'd with a thousand horse, to apprehend
And bring him Captive to your Highnesse throne.
Ful true thou speakst, and like thy selfe my lord,
Whom I may tearme a Damon for thy love.
Therefore tis best, if so it lik you all,
To send my thousand horse incontinent,
To apprehend that paltrie Scythian.
How like you this, my honorable Lords?
Is it not a kingly resolution?
It cannot choose, because it comes from you.
Then heare thy charge, valiant Theridamas,
The chiefest Captaine of Mycetes hoste,
The hope of Persea, and the verie legges
Whereon our state doth leane, as on a staffe,
That holds us up, and foiles our neighbour foes.
Thou shalt be leader of this thousand horse,
Whose foming galle with rage and high disdaine,
Have sworne the death of wicked Tamburlaine.
Go frowning foorth, but come thou smyling home,
As did Sir Paris with the Grecian Dame:
Returne with speed, time passeth swift away,
Our life is fraile, and we may die to day.
Before the Moone renew her borrowed light,
Doubt not my Lord and gratious Soveraigne,
But Tamburlaine, and that Tartarian rout,
Shall either perish by our warlike hands,
Or plead for mercie at your highnesse feet.
Go, stout Theridamas, thy words are swords,
And with thy lookes thou conquerest all thy foes:
I long to see thee backe returne from thence,
That I may view these milk-white steeds of mine,
All loden with the heads of killed men.
And from their knees, even to their hoofes below,
Besmer'd with blood, that makes a dainty show.
Then now my Lord, I humbly take my leave.
Theridamas, farewel ten thousand times.
Ah, Menaphon, why staiest thou thus behind,
When other men prease forward for renowne:
Go Menaphon, go into Scythia,
And foot by foot follow Theridamas.
Nay, pray you let him stay, a greater task
Fits Menaphon, than warring with a Thiefe:
Create him Prorex of Assiria,
That he may win the Babylonians hearts,
Which will revolt from Persean government,
Unlesse they have a wiser king than you.
Unlesse they have a wiser king than you?
These are his words, Meander set them downe.
And ad this to them, that all Asia
Lament to see the follie of their King.
Well here I sweare by this my royal seat.
You may doe well to kisse it then.
Embost with silke as best beseemes my state,
To be reveng'd for these contemptuous words.
O where is dutie and allegeance now?
Fled to the Caspean or the Ocean maine?
What, shall I call thee brother? No, a foe,
Monster of Nature, shame unto thy stocke,
That dar'st presume thy Soveraigne for to mocke.
Meander come, I am abus'd Meander.
Manent Cosroe and Menaphon
How now my Lord, what, mated and amaz'd
To heare the king thus threaten like himselfe?
Ah Menaphon, I passe not for his threates,
The plot is laid by Persean Noble men,
And Captaines of the Medean garrisons,
To crowne me Emperour of Asia.
But this it is that doth excruciate
The verie substance of my vexed soule:
To see our neighbours that were woont to quake
And tremble at the Persean Monarkes name,
Now sits and laughs our regiment to scorne:
And that which might resolve me into teares,
Men from the farthest Equinoctiall line,
Have swarm'd in troopes into the Easterne India:
Lading their shippes with golde and pretious stones:
And made their spoiles from all our provinces.
This should intreat your highnesse to rejoice,
Since Fortune gives you opportunity,
To gaine the tytle of a Conquerour,
By curing of this maimed Emperie.
Affrike and Europe bordering on your land,
And continent to your Dominions:
How Basely may you with a mightie hoste,
Passe into Groecia, as did Cyrus once.
And cause them to withdraw their forces home,
Least you subdue the pride of Christendome?
But Menaphon, what means this trumpets sound?
Behold, my Lord, Ortigius and the rest,
Bringing the Crowne to make you Emperour.
Enter Ortigius and Ceneus bearing a Crowne,with others.
Magnificent and mightie Prince Cosroe,
We in the name of other Persean states,
And commons of this mightie Monarchie,
Present thee with th'Emperiall Diadem.
The warlike Souldiers, and the Gentlemen,
That heretofore have fild Persepolis
With Affrike Captaines, taken in the field:
Whose ransome made them martch in coates of gold,
With costlie jewels hanging at their eares,
And shining stones upon their loftie Crestes:
Now living idle in the walled townes,
Wanting both pay and martiall discipline,
Begin in troopes to threaten civill warre,
And openly exclaime against the King.
Therefore to stay all sodaine mutinies,
We will invest your Highnesse Emperour:
Whereat the Souldiers will conceive more joy,
Then did the Macedonians at the spoile
Of great Darius and his wealthy hoast.
Wel, since I see the state of Persea droope,
And languish in my brothers government:
I willingly receive th'emperiall crowne,
And vow to weare it for my countries good:
In spight of them shall malice my estate.
And in assurance of desir'd successe,
We here doo crowne thee Monarch of the East,
Emperour of Asia, ad of Persea,
Great Lord of Medea and Armenia:
Duke of Assiria and Albania,
Mesopotamia and of Parthia,
East lndia and the late discovered Isles,
Chiefe Lord of all the wide vast Euxine sea,
And of the ever raging Caspian Lake:
Long live Cosroe mighty Emperour.
And Jove may never let me longer live,
Then I may seeke to gratifie your love,
And cause the souldiers that thus honour me,
To triumph over many Provinces.
By whose desires of discipline in Armes,
I doubt not shortly but to raigne sole king,
And with the Armie of Theridamas,
Whether we presently will flie (my Lords)
To rest secure against my brothers force.
We knew my Lord, before we brought the crowne,
Intending your investion so neere
The residence of your dispised brother,
The Lords would not be too exasperate,
To injure or suppresse your woorthy tytle.
Or if they would, there are in readines
Ten thousand horse to carte you from hence,
In spite of all suspected enemies.
I know it wel my Lord, and thanke you all.
Sound up the trumpets then, God save the King.
Enter Tamburlaine leading Zenocrate: Techelles, Usumcasane, otherLords, Magnetes, Agidas, and Souldiers loden with treasure
Come lady, let not this appal your thoughts.
The jewels and the treasure we have tane
Shall be reserv'd, and you in better state,
Than if you were arriv'd in Siria,
Even in the circle of your Fathers armes:
The mightie Souldan of Egyptia.
Ah Shepheard, pity my distressed plight,
(If as thou seem'st, thou art so meane a man)
And seeke not to inrich thy followers,
By lawlesse rapine from a silly maide.
Who travailing with these Medean Lords
To Memphis, from my uncles country of Medea,
Where all my youth I have bene governed,
Have past the armie of the mightie Turke:
Bearing his privie signet and his hand:
To safe conduct us thorow Affrica.
And since we have arriv'd in Scythia,
Besides rich presents from the puisant Cham,
We have his highnesse letters to command
Aide and assistance if we stand in need.
But now you see these letters and commandes,
Are countermanded by a greater man:
And through my provinces you must expect
Letters of conduct from my mightinesse,
If you intend to keep your treasure safe.
But since I love to live at liberty,
As Basely may you get the Souldans crowne,
As any prizes out of my precinct.
For they are friends that help to weane my state,
Till men and kingdomes help to strengthen it:
And must maintaine my life exempt from servitude.
But tell me Maddam, is your grace betroth'd?
I am (my Lord,) for so you do import.
I am a Lord, for so my deeds shall proove,
And yet a shepheard by my Parentage:
But Lady, this faire face and heavenly hew,
Must grace his bed that conquers Asia:
And meanes to be a terrour to the world,
Measuring the limits of his Emperie
By East and west, as Phoebus doth his course:
Lie here ye weedes that I disdaine to weare,
[Takes off shepheards cloak.]
This compleat armor, and this curtle-axe
Are adjuncts more beseeming Tamburlaine.
And Maddam, whatsoever you esteeme
Of this successe, and losse unvallued,
Both may invest you Empresse of the East:
And these that seeme but silly country Swaines,
May have the leading of so great an host,
As with their weight shall make the mountains quake,
Even as when windy exhalations,
Fighting for passage, tilt within the earth.
As princely Lions when they rouse themselves,
Stretching their pawes, and threatning heardes of Beastes,
So in his Armour looketh Tamburlaine:
Me thinks I see kings kneeling at his feet,
And he with frowning browes and fiery lookes,
Spurning their crownes from off their captive heads.
And making thee and me Techelles, kinges,
That even to death will follow Tamburlaine.
Nobly resolv'd, sweet friends and followers.
These Lords (perhaps) do scorne our estimates,
And thinke we prattle with distempered spirits:
But since they measure our deserts so meane,
That in conceit bear Empires on our speares,
Affecting thoughts coequall with the cloudes,
They shall be kept our forced followers,
Till with their eies they view us Emperours.
The Gods, defenders of the innocent,
Will never prosper your intended driftes,
That thus oppresse poore friendles passengers.
Therefore at least admit us libertie,
Even as thou hop'st to be eternized,
By living Asias mightie Emperour.
I hope our Ladies treasure and our owne,
May serve for ransome to our liberties:
Returne our Mules and emptie Camels backe,
That we may traveile into Siria,
Where her betrothed Lord Alcidamus,
Expects th'arrivall of her highnesse person.
And wheresoever we repose our selves,
We will report but well of Tamburlaine.
Disdaines Zenocrate to live with me?
Or you my Lordes to be my followers?
Thinke you I way this treasure more than you?
Not all the Gold in lndias welthy armes,
Shall buy the meanest souldier in my traine.
Zenocrate, lovelier than the Love of Jove,
Brighter than is the silver Rhodope.
Fairer than whitest snow on Scythian tails,
Thy person is more woorth to Tamburlaine,
Than the possession of the Persean Crowne,
Which gratious starres have promist at my birth.
A hundreth Tartars shall attend on thee,
Mounted on Steeds, swifter than Pegasus.
Thy Garments shall be made of Medean silke,
Enchast with precious juelles of mine owne:
More rich and valurous than Zenocrates.
With milke-white Hartes upon an Ivorie sled,
Thou shalt be drawen amidst the frosen Pooles,
And scale the ysie mountaines lofty tops:
Which with thy beautie will be soone resolv'd.
My martiall prises with five hundred men,
Wun on the fiftie headed Vuolgas waves,
Shall all we offer to Zenocrate,
And then my selfe to faire Zenocrate.
What now? In love?[Aside.]
Techelles, women must be flatered.[Aside.]
But this is she with
whom I am in love.
Enter a Souldier.
How now, what's the matter?
A thousand Persean horsmen are at hand,
Sent from the King to overcome us all.
How now my Lords of Egypt and Zenocrate?
Nowmust your jewels be restor'd againe:
And I that triumpht so be overcome.
How say you Lordings, Is not this your hope?
We hope your selfe wil willingly restore them.
Such hope, such fortune have the thousand horse.
Soft ye my Lords and sweet Zenocrate.
You must be forced from me ere you goe:
A thousand horsmen? We five hundred foote?
An oafs too great, for us to stand against:
But are they rich? And is their armour good?
Their plumed helmes are wrought with beaten golde.
Their swords enameld, and about their neckes
Hangs massie chaines of golde downe to the waste,
In every part exceeding brave and rich.
Then shall we fight couragiously with them.
Or looke you, I should play the Orator?
No: cowards and fainthearted runawaies,
Looke for orations when the foe is neere.
Our swordes shall play the Orators for us.
Come let us meet them at the mountain foot,
And with a sodaine and an hot alarme
Drive all their horses headlong down the hill.
Come let us martch.
Stay Techelles, aske a parlee first.
The Souldiers enter.
Open the Males, yet guard the treasure sure,
Lay out our golden wedges to the view,
That their reflexions may amaze the Perseans.
And looke we friendly on them when they come:
But if they offer word or violence,
Weele fight five hundred men at armes to one,
Before we part with our possession.
And gainst the Generall we will lift our swords,
And either ranch his greedy thirsting throat,
Or take him prisoner, and his chaine shall serve
For Manackles, till he be ransom'd home.
I heare them come, shal we encounter them?
Keep all your standings, and not stir a foote,
My selfe will bide the danger of the brunt.
Enter Theridamas with others.
Where is this Scythian Tamburlaine?
Whom seekst thou Persean? I am Tamburlain.
A Scythian Shepheard, so
With Natures pride, and richest furniture?
His looks do menace heaven and dare the Gods,
His fierie eies are fixt upon the earth,
As if he now devis'd some Stratageme:
Or meant to pierce Avernus darksome vaults,
And pull the triple headed dog from hell.
Noble and milde this Persean seemes to be,
If outward habit judge the inward man.
His deep affections make him passionate.
With what a majesty he rears his looks:—
In thee (thou valiant man of Persea) [To Theridamas.]
I see the folly of thy
Art thou but Captaine of a thousand horse,
That by Characters graven in thy browes,
And by thy martiall face and stout aspect,
Deserv'st to have the leading of an hoste?
Forsake thy king and do but joine with me
And we will triumph over all the world.
I hold the Fates bound fast in yron chaines,
And with my hand turne Fortunes wheel about,
And sooner shall the Sun fall from his Spheare,
Than Tamburlaine be slaine or overcome.
Draw foorth thy sword, thou mighty man at Armes,
Intending but to rase my charmed skin:
And Jove himselfe will stretch his hand from heaven,
To ward the blow, and shield me safe from harme.
See how he raines down heaps of gold in showers,
As if he meant to give my Souldiers pay,
And as a sure and grounded argument,
That I shall be the Monark of the East,
He sends this Souldans daughter rich and brave,
To be my Queen and portly Emperesse.
If thou wilt stay with me, renowmed man,
And lead thy thousand horse with my conduct,
Besides thy share of this Egyptian prise,
Those thousand horse shall sweat with martiall spoile
Of conquered kingdomes, and of Cities sackt.
Both we wil walke upon the lofty cliffs,
And Christian Merchants that with Russian stems
Plow up huge furrowes in the Caspian sea,
Shall vaile to us, as Lords of all the Lake.
Both we will raigne as Consuls of the earth,
And mightie kings shall be our Senators.
Jove sometime masked in a Shepheards weed,
And by those steps that he hath scal'd the heavens,
May we become immortall like the Gods.
Joine with me now in this my meane estate,
(I cal it meane, because being yet obscure,
The Nations far remoov'd admyre me not)
And when my name and honor shall be spread,
As far as Boreas claps his brazen wings,
Or faire Boötes sends his cheerefull light,
Then shalt thou be Competitor with me,
And sit with Tamburlaine in all his majestie.
Not Hermes Prolocutor to the Gods,
Could use perswasions more patheticall.
Nor are Apollos Oracles more true,
Then thou shalt find my vaunts substantiall.
We are his friends, and if the Persean king
Should offer present Dukedomes to our state,
We thinke it losse to make exchange for that
We are assured of by our friends successe.
And kingdomes at the least we all expect,
Besides the honor in assured conquestes:
Where kings shall crouch unto our conquering swords,
And hostes of souldiers stand amaz'd at us,
When with their fearfull tongues they shall confesse
Theise are the men that all the world admires.
What stronge enchantments tice my yeelding soule?
Are these resolved noble scythians?
But shall I proove a Traitor to my King?
No, but the trustie friend of Tamburlaine.
Won with thy words, and conquered with thy looks,
I yeeld my selfe, my men and horse tothee:
To be partaker of thy good or ill,
As long as life maintaines Theridamas.
Theridamas my friend, take here my hand,
Which is as much as if I swore by heaven,
And call'd the Gods to witnesse of my vow,
Thus shall my heart be still combinde with thine,
Untill our bodies turne toElements:
And both our soules aspire celestiall thrones.
Techelles, and Casane, welcome him.
Welcome renowmed Persean to us all.
Long may Theridamas remaine with us.
These are my friends in whom I more rejoice,
Than dooth the King of Persea in his Crowne:
And by the love of Pyllades and Orestes,
Whose statutes we adore in Scythia,
Thy selfe and them shall never part from me,
Before I crowne you kings in Asia.
Make much of them gentle Theridamas,
And they will never leave thee till the death.
Nor thee, nor them, thrice noble Tamburlaine,
Shal want my heart to be with gladnes pierc'd
To do you honor and securitie.
A thousand thankes worthy Theridamas:
And now faire Madam, and my noble Lords,
If you will willingly remaine with me,
You shall have honors, as your merits be:
Or els you shall be forc'd with slaverie.
We yeeld unto thee happie Tamburlaine.
For you then Maddam, I am out of doubt.
I must be pleasde perforce, wretched Zenocrate.
Act 2, Scene 1
[Enter] Cosroe, Menaphon, Ortygius, Ceneus, with other Souldiers.
Thus farre are we towards Theridamas,
And valiant Tamburlaine, the man of fame,
The man that in the forhead of his fortune,
Beares figures of renowne and myracle:
But tell me, that hast seene him, Menephon,
What stature wields he, and what personage?
Of stature tall, and straightly fashioned,
Like his desire, lift upwards and divine,
So large of lims, his joints so strongly knit,
Such breadth of shoulders as might mainely beare
Olde Atlas burthen. Twixt his manly pitch,
A pearle more worth, then all the world is plaste:
Wherein by curious soveraintie of Art,
Are fixt his piercing instruments of sight:
Whose fiery cyrcles beare encompassed
A heaven of heavenly bodies in their Spheares
That guides his steps and actions to the throne,
Where honor sits invested royally:
Pale of complexion: wrought in him with passion,
Thirsting with soverainty, with love of armes:
His lofty browes in foldes, do figure death,
And in their smoothnesse, amitie and life:
About them hangs a knot of Amber heire,
Wrapped in curles, as fierce Achilles was,
On which the breath of heaven delights to play,
Making it daunce with wanton majestie:
His armes andfingers long and sinowy,
Betokening valour and excesse of strength:
In every part proportioned like the man,
Should make the world subdued to Tamburlaine.
Wel hast thou pourtraid in thy tearms of life,
The face and personage of a woondrous man:
Nature doth strive with Fortune and his stars,
To make him famous in accomplisht woorth:
And well his merits show him to be made
His Fortunes maister, and the king of men,
That could perswade at such a sodaine pinch,
With reasons of his valour and his life,
A thousand sworne and overmatching foes:
Then when our powers in points of swords are join'd,
And closde in compasse of the killing bullet,
Though straight the passage and the port be made,
That leads to Pallace of my brothers life,
Proud is his fortune if we pierce it not.
And when the princely Persean Diadem,
Shall overway his wearie witlesse head,
And fall like mellowed fruit, with shakes of death,
In faire Persea noble Tamburlaine
Shall be my Regent, and remaine as King.
In happy hower we have set the Crowne
Upon your kingly head, that seeks our honor,
In joyning with the man, ordain'd by heaven
To further every action to the best.
He that with Shepheards and a litle spoile,
Durst in disdaine of wrong and tyrannie,
Defend his freedome gainst a Monarchie:
What will he doe supported by a king?
Leading a troope of Gentlemen and Lords,
And stuff with treasure for his highest thoughts?
And such shall wait on worthy Tamburlaine
Our army will be forty thousand strong,
When Tamburlain and brave Theridamas
Have met us by the river Araris:
And all conjoin'd to meet the witlesse King,
That now is marching neer to Parthia:
And with unwilling souldiers faintly arm'd,
To seeke revenge on me and Tamburlaine.
To whom sweet Menaphon, direct me straight.
I will my Lord.
Act 2, Scene 2
[Enter] Mycetes, Meander, with other Lords and Souldiers.
Come my Meander, let us to this geere,
I tel you true my heart is swolne with wrath,
On this same theevish villaine Tamburlaine
And of that false Cosroe, my traiterous brother.
Would it not grieve a King to be so abusde,
And have a thousand horsmen tane away?
And which is worst to have his Diadem
Sought for by such scalde knaves as love him not?
I thinke it would: wel then, by heavens I sweare,
Aurora shatl not peepe out of her doves,
But I will have Cosroe by the head,
And kill proud Tamburlaine with point of sword.
Tell you the rest (Meander) I have said.
Then having past Armenian deserts now,
And pitcht our tents under the Georgean hilles,
Whose tops are covered with Tartarian thieves,
That lie in ambush, waiting for a pray:
What should we doe but bid them battaile straight,
And rid the world of those detested troopes?
Least if we let them lynger here a while,
They gather strength by power of fresh supplies.
This countrie swarmes with vile outragious men,
That live by rapine and by lawlesse spoile,
Fit Souldiers for the wicked Tamburlaine
And he that could with giftes and promises
Inveigle him that lead a thousand horse,
And make him false his faith unto his King,
Will quickly win such as are like himselfe.
Therefore cheere up your mindes, prepare to fight,
He that can take or slaughter Tamburlaine,
Shall rule the Province of Albania
Who brings that Traitors head Theridamas,
Shal have a government in Medea:
Beside the spoile of him and all his traine:
But if Cosroe (as our Spials say,
And as we know) remaines with Tamburlaine,
His Highnesse pleasure is that he should live,
And be reclaim'd with princely lenitie.
[Enter a Spy.]
An hundred horsmen of my company
Scowting abroad upon these champion plaines,
Have view'd the army of the Scythians,
Which make reports it far exceeds the Kings.
Suppose they be in number infinit,
Yet being void of Martiall discipline,
All running headlong after greedy spoiles:
And more regarding gaine than victory:
Like to the quell brothers of the earth,
Sprong of the teeth of Dragons venomous,
Their carelesse swords shal ranch their fellowes throats
And make us triumph in their overthrow.
Was there such brethren, sweet Meander, say,
That sprong of teeth of Dragons venomous?
So Poets say, my Lord.
And tis a prety toy to be a Poet.
Wel, wel (Meander) thou art deeply read:
And having thee, I have a jewell sure:
Go on my Lord, and give your charge I say,
Thy wit will make us Conquerors to day.
Then noble souldiors, to intrap these theeves,
That live confounded in disordered troopes,
If wealth or riches may prevaile with them,
We have our Cammels laden all with gold:
Which you that be but common souldiers,
Shall fling in every corner of the field:
And while the base borne Tartars take it up,
You fighting more for honor than for gold,
Shall massacre those greedy minded slaves.
And when their scattered armie is subdu'd,
And you march on their slaughtered carkasses:
Share equally the gold that bought their lives,
And live like Gentlemen in Persea.
Strike up the Drum and martch corragiously,
Fortune her selfe dooth sit upon our Crests.
He tells you true, my maisters, so he does.
Drums, why sound ye not when Meander speaks.
Act 2, Scene 3
[Enter]Cosroe, Tamburlaine, Theridamas, Techelles, Usumcasane, Ortygius,with others.
Now worthy Tamburlaine, have I reposde,
In thy approoved Fortunes all my hope,
What thinkst thou man, shal come of our attemptes?
For even as from assured oracle,
I take thy doome for satisfaction.
And so mistake you not a whit my Lord.
For Fates and Oracles of heaven have sworne,
To roialise the deedes of Tamburlaine:
And make them blest that share in his attemptes.
And doubt you not, but if you favour me,
And let my Fortunes and my valour sway,
To some direction in your martiall deeds,
The world will strive with hostes of men at armes,
To swarme unto the Ensigne I support.
The host of Xerxes, which by fame is said
To drinke the mightie Parthian Araris,
Was but a handful to that we will have.
Our quivering Lances shaking in the aire,
And bullets like Joves dreadfull Thunderbolts,
Enrolde in flames and fiery smoldering misses,
Shall threat the Gods more than Cyclopian warres,
And with our Sun-bright armour as we march,
Weel chase the Stars from heaven, and dim their eies
That stand and muse at our admyred armes.
You see my Lord, what woorking woordes he hath
But when you see his actions top his speech,
Your speech will stay, or so extol his worth,
As I shall be commended and excusde
For turning my poore charge to his direction.
And these his two renowmed friends my Lord,
Would make one thrust and strive to be retain'd
In such a great degree of amitie.
With dutie and with amitie we yeeld
Our utmost service to the faire Cosroe.
Which I esteeme as portion of my crown.
Usumcansae and Techelles both,
When she that rules in Rhamnis golden gates,
And makes a passage for all prosperous Armes,
Shall make me solely Emperour of Asia:
Then shall your meeds and vallours be advaunst
Toroomes of honour and Nobilitie.
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,
Meete with the foole, and rid your royall shoulders
Of such a burthen, as outwaies the sands
And all the craggie rockes of Caspea.
[Enter a Messenger.]
My Lord, we have discovered the enemie
Ready to chardge you with a mighty armie.
Come, Tamburlain, now whet thy winged sword
And lift thy lofty arme into the cloudes,
That it may reach the King of Perseas crowne,
And set it safe on my victorious head.
See where it is, the keenest Cutle-axe,
That ere made passage thorow Persean Armes.
These are the wings shall make it flie as swift,
As dooth the lightening, or the breath of heaven:
And kill as sure as it swiftly flies.
Thy words assure me of kind successe:
Go valiant Souldier, go before and charge
The fainting army of that foolish King.
Usumcasane and Techelles come,
We are enough to scarre the enemy,
And more than needes to make an Emperour.
Act 2, Scene 4
To the Battaile, and Mycetes comes out alone with his Crowne in his hand, offrering to hide it.
Accurst be he that first invented war,
They knew not, ah, they knew not simple men,
How those were hit by pelting Cannon shot,
Stand staggering like a quivering Aspen leafe,
Fearing the force of Boreas boistrous blasts.
In what a lamentable case were I,
If Nature had not given me wisedomes lore?
For Kings are clouts that every man shoots at,
Our Crowne the pin that thousands seeke to cleave.
Therefore in pollicie I thinke itgood
To hide it close: a goodly Stratagem,
And far from any man that is a foole.
So shall not I be knower, or if I bee,
They cannot take away my crowne from me.
Here will I hide it in this simple hole.
What, fearful coward, stragling from the camp
When Kings themselves are present in the field?
Base villaine, darst thou give the lie?
Away, I am the King: go, touch me not.
Thou breakst the law of Armes unlesse thou kneele,
And cry me mercie, noble King.
Are you the witty King of Persea?
I marie am I: have you any suite to me?
I would intreat you to speak but three wise wordes.
So I can when I see my time.
Is this your Crowne?
I, Didst thou ever see a fairer?
You will not sell it, wil ye?
Such another word, and I will have thee executed.
Come give it me.
No, I tooke it prisoner.
You lie, I gave it you.
Then tis mine.
No, I meane, I let you keep it.
Wel, I meane you shall have it againe.
Here take it for a while, I lend it thee,
Till I may see thee hem'd with armed men.
Then shalt thou see me pull it from thy head:
Thou art no match for mightie Tamburlaine.
O Gods, is this Tamburlaine the thiefe,
Imarveile much he stole it not away.
Sound trumpets to the battell, andhe runs in.
Act 2, Scene 5
[Enter] Cosroe, Tamburlaine, Theridamas, Menaphon, Meander, Oreygius,Techelles, Usumcasane, with others.
Holde thee Cosroe, weare two imperiall Crownes.
Thinke thee invested now as royally,
Even by the mighty hand of Tamburlaine,
As if as many kinges as could encompasse thee,
With greatest pompe had crown'd thee Emperour.
So do I thrice renowmed man at armes,
And none shall keepe the crowne but Tamburlaine:
Thee doo I make my Regent of Persea,
And Generall Lieftenant of my Armies.
Meander, you that were our brothers Guide,
And chiefest Counsailor in all his acts,
Since he is yeelded to the stroke of War,
On your submission we with thanks excuse,
And give you equall place in our affaires.
Most happy Emperour in humblest tearms
I vow my service to your Majestie,
With utmost vertue of my faith and dutie.
Thanks good Meander, then Cosroe reign
And governe Persea in her former pomp:
Now send Ambassage to thy neighbor Kings,
And let them know the Persean King is chang'd:
From one that knew not what a King should do,
To one that can commaund what longs thereto:
And now we will to faire Persepolis,
With twenty thousand expert souldiers.
The Lords and Captaines of my brothers campe,
With litle slaughter take Meanders course,
And gladly yeeld them to my gracious rule:
Ortigius and Menaphon, my trustie friendes,
Now will I gratify your former good,
And grace your calling with a greater sway.
And as we ever aim'd at your behoofe,
And sought your state all honor it deserv'd,
So will we with our powers and our lives,
Indevor to preserve and prosper it.
I will not thank thee (sweet Ortigius)
Better replies shall proove my purposes.
And now Lord Tamburlaine, my brothers Campe
I leave to thee, and to Theridamas,
To follow me to faire Persepolis
Then will we march to all those Indian Mines,
My witlesse brother to the Christians lost:
And ransome them with fame and usurie.
And till thou overtake me Tamburlaine,
(Staying to order all the scattered troopes)
Farewell Lord Regent, and his happie friends,
I long to sit upon my brothers throne.
Your Majestie shall shortly have your wish,
And ride in triumph through Persepolis
Manent Tamburlaine, Techelles, Theridamas, Usumcasane.
And ride in triumph through Persepolis ?
Is it not brave to be a King, Techelles?
Usumcasane and Theridamas,
Is it not passing brave to be a King,
And ride in triumph through Persepolis?
Omy Lord, tis sweet and full of pompe.
To be a King, is halfe to be a God.
A God is not so glorious as a King,
I thinke the pleasure they enjoy in heaven
Can not compare with kingly joyes in earth.
To weare a Crowne enchac'd with pearle and golde,
Whose vertues carte with it life and death.
To aske, and have: commaund, and be obeied.
When looks breed love, with lookes to gaine the prize.
Such power attractive shines in princes eies.
Why say Theridamas, wilt thou be a king?
Nay, though I praise it, I can live without it.
What saies my other friends, wil you be kings?
I, if I could with all my heart my Lord.
Why, that's wel said Techelles, so would I,
And so would you my maisters, would you not?
What then my Lord ?
Why then Casane,shall we wish for ought
The world affoords in greatest noveltie,
And rest attemplesse, faint and destitute?
Me thinks we should not, I am strongly moov'd,
That if I should desire the Persean Crowne,
I could attaine it with a woondrous ease,
And would not all our souldiers soone consent,
If we should aime at such a dignitie?
I know they would with our perswasions.
Why then Theridamas, Ile first assay,
To get the Persean Kingdome to my selfe:
Then thou for Parthia, they for Scythia and Medea.
And if I prosper, all shall be as sure,
As if the Turke, the Pope, Affrike and Greece,
Came creeping to us with their crownes apace.
Then shall we send to this triumphing King,
And bid him battell for his novell Crowne?
Nay quickly then, before his roome be hot.
Twil proove a pretie jest (in faith) my friends.
A jest to chardge on twenty thousand men?
I judge the purchase more important far.
Judge by thy selfe Theridamas, not me,
For presently Techelles here shal haste,
To bid him battaile ere he passe too farre,
And lose more labor than the gaine will quight.
Then shalt thou see the Scythian Tamburlaine,
Make but a jest to win the Persean crowne.
Techelles, take a thousand horse with thee,
And bid him turne him back to war with us,
That onely made him King to make us sport.
We will not steale upon him cowardly,
But give him warning and more warriours.
Haste thee Techelles, we will follow thee.
What saith Theridamas?
Goe on for me.
Act 2, Scene 6
[Enter] Cosroe, Meander, Ortygius, Menaphon, with other Souldiers.
What means this divelish shepheard to aspire
With such a Giantly presumption,
To cast up hils against the face of heaven:
And dare the force of angrie Jupiter
But as he thrust them underneath the tails,
And press outfire from their burning jawes:
So will I send this monstrous slave to hell,
Where flames shall ever feed upon his soule.
Some powers divine, or els infernall, mixt
Their angry seeds at his conception:
For he was never sprong of humaine race,
Since with the spirit of his fearefull pride,
He dares so doubtlesly resolve of rule,
And by profession be ambitious.
What God or Feend, or spirit of the earth,
Or Monster turned to a manly shape,
Or of what mould or mettel he be made,
What star or state soever governe him,
Let us put on our meet incountring minces,
And in detesting such a divelish Thiefe,
In love of honor and defence of right,
Be arm'd against the hate of such a foe,
Whether from earth, or hell, or heaven he grow.
Nobly resolv'd, my good Ortygius.
And since we all have suckt one wholsome aire,
And with the same proportion of Elements
Resolve, I hope we are resembled,
Vowing our loves to equall death and life.
Let's cheere our souldiers to incounter him,
That grievous image of ingratitude:
That fiery thirster after Soveraigntie:
And burne him in the fury of that flame,
That none can quence but blood and Emperie.
Resolve my Lords and loving souldiers now,
To save your King and country from decay:
Then strike up Drum, and all the Starres that make
The loathsome Circle of my dated life,
Direct my weapon to his barbarous heart,
That thus opposeth him against the Gods,
And scornes the Powers that governe Persea.
Act 2, Scene 7
Exeunt to the Battell, and after the battell, enter Cosroe wounded, Theridamas, Tamburlaine, Techelles, Usumcasane, with others.
Barbarous and bloody Tamburlaine,
Thus to deprive me of my crowne and life.
Treacherous and false Theridamas,
Even at the morning of my happy state,
Scarce being seated in my royall throne,
To worke my downfall and untimely end.
An uncouth paine torments my grieved soule,
And death arrests the organe of my voice,
Who entring at the breach thy sword hath made
Sackes every vaine and artier of my heart.
Bloody and insatiate Tamburlain
The thirst of raigne and sweetnes of a crown,
That causde the eldest sonne of heavenly Ops,
To thrust his doting father from his chaire,
And place himselfe in the Emperiall heaven,
Moov'd me to manage armes against thy state.
What better president than mightie Jove?
Nature that fram'd us of foure Elements,
Warring within our breasts for regiment,
Doth teach us all to have aspyring minds:
Our soules, whose faculties can comprehend
The wondrous Architecture of the world:
And measure every wandring plannets course:
Still climing after knowledge infinite,
And alwaies mooving as the restles Spheares,
Wils us to weare our selves and never rest,
Untill we reach the ripest fruit of all,
That perfect blisse and sole felicitie,
The sweet fruition of an earthly crowne.
And that made me to joine with Tamburlain,
For he is grosse and like the massie earth,
That mooves not upwards, nor by princely deeds
Doth meane to soare above the highest sort.
And that made us, the friends of Tamburlaine,
To lift our swords against the Persean King.
For as when Jove did thrust old Saturn down,
Neptune and Dis gain'd each of them a Crowne,
So do we hope to reign in Asia,
If Tamburlain be plac'd in Persea.
The strangest men that ever nature made,
I know not how to take their tyrannies.
My bloodlesse body waxeth chill and colde,
And with my blood my life slides through my wound,
My soule begins to take her flight to hell:
And sommons all my sences to depart.
The heat and moisture which did feed each other,
For want of nourishment to feed them both,
Is drie and cold, and now dooth gastly death
With greedy tallents gripe my bleeding hart,
And like a Harpyr tires on my life.
Theridamas and Tamburlaine, I die,
And fearefull vengeance light upon you both.
He takes the Crowne and puts it on.
Not all the curses which the furies breathe,
Shall make me leave so rich a prize as this:
Theridamas, Techelles, and the rest,
Who thinke you now is king of Persea?
Though Mars himselfe the angrie God of armes,
And all the earthly Potentates conspire,
To dispossesse me of this Diadem:
Yet will I weare it in despight of them,
As great commander of this Easterne world,
If you but say that Tamburlaine shall raigne.
Long live Tamburlaine, and raigne in Asia.
So, now it is more surer on my head,
Than if the Gods had held a Parliament:
And all pronounst me king of Persea.
Act 3, Scene 1
[Enter] Bajazeth, the kings of Fesse,Moroco, and Argier,with others, in great pompe.
Great Kings of Barbary, and my portly Bassoes,
We heare, the Tartars and the Easterne theeves
Under the conduct of one Tamburlaine,
Presume a bickering with your Emperour:
And thinks to rouse us from our dreadful siege
Of the famous Grecian Constantinople
You know our Armie is invincible:
As many circumcised Turkes we have,
And warlike bands of Christians renied,
As hath the Ocean or the Terrene sea
Small drops of water, when the Moon begins
To joine in one her semi-circled homes:
Yet would we not be brav'd with forrain power,
Nor raise our siege before the Gretians yeeld,
Or breathles lie before the citie walles.
Renowmed Emperour, and mighty Generall,
What if you sent the Bassoes of your guard,
To charge him to remaine in Asia
Or els to threaten death and deadly armes,
As from the mouth of mighty Bajazeth.
Hie thee my Bassoe fast to Persea,
Tell him thy Lord the Turkish Emperour,
Dread Lord of Affrike, Europe and Asia,
Great King and conquerour of Grecia,
The Ocean, Terrene, and the cole-blacke sea,
The high and highest Monarke of the world,
Wils and commands (for say not I intreat)
Not once to set his foot in Affrica,
Or spread his collours in Grecia,
Least he incurre the furie of my wrath.
Tell him, I am content to take a truce,
Because I heare he beares a valiant mind.
But if presuming on his silly power,
He be so mad to manage Armes with me,
Then stay thou with him, say I bid thee so.
And if before the Sun have measured heaven
With triple circuit thou regreet us not,
We meane to take his mornings next arise
For messenger, he will not be reclaim'd,
And meane to fetch thee in despight of him.
Most great and puisant Monarke of the earth,
Your Bassoe will accomplish your behest:
And show your pleasure to the Persean,
As fits the Legate of the stately Turk.
They say he is the King of Persea
But if he dare attempt to stir your siege,
Twere requisite he should be ten times more,
For all flesh quakes at your magnificence.
True (Argier) and tremble at my lookes.
The spring is hindred by your smoothering host,
For neither rain can fall upon the earth,
Nor Sun reflexe his vertuous beames thereon,
The ground is mantled with such multitudes.
All this is true as holy Mahomet,
And all the trees are blasted with our breathes.
What thinks your greatnes best to be atchiev'd
In pursuit of the Cities overthrow?
I wil the captive Pioners of Argrer,
Cut of the water, that by leaden pipes
Runs to the citie from the mountain Carnon.
Two thousand horse shall forrage up and downe,
That no reliefe or succour come by Land.
And all the sea my Gallies countermaund.
Then shall our footmen lie within the trench,
And with their Cannons mouth'd like Orcus gulfe
Batter the walles, and we will enter in:
And thus the Grecians shall be conquered.
Act 3, Scene 2
[Enter] Agidas, Zenocrate, Anippe, with others.
Madame Zenocrate, may I presume
To know the cause of these unquiet fits:
That worke such trouble to your woonted rest:
Tismore then pitty such a heavenly face
Should by hearts sorrow wax so wan and pale,
When your offensive rape by Tamburlaine,
(Which of your whole displeasures should be most)
Hath seem'd to be digested long agoe.
Although it be digested long agoe,
As his exceding favours have deserv'd,
And might content the Queene of heaven as well,
As it hath chang'd my first conceiv'd disdaine.
Yet since a farther passion feeds my thoughts,
With ceaselesse and disconsolate conceits,
Which dies my lookes so livelesse as they are.
And might, if my extreams had full events,
Make me the gastly counterfeit of death.
Eternall heaven sooner be dissolv'd,
And all that pierceth Phoebes silver eie,
Before such hap fall to Zenocrate.
Ah, life and soule still hover in his Breast,
And leave my body sencelesse as the earth.
Or els unite you to his life and soule,
That I may live and die with Tamburlaine.
Enter [aloofe] Tamburlaine with Techelles and others.
With Tamburlaine? Ah faire Zenocrate,
Let not a man so vile and barbarous,
That holds you from your father in despight,
And keeps you from the honors of a Queene,
Being supposde his worthlesse Concubine,
Be honored with your love, but for necessity.
So now the mighty Souldan heares of you,
Your Highnesse needs not doubt but in short time,
He will with Tamburlaines destruction
Redeeme you from this deadly servitude.
Agidas, leave to wound me with these words:
And speake of Tamburlaine as he deserves.
The entertainment we have had of him,
Is far from villanie or servitude.
And might in noble minds be counted princely.
How can you fancie one that lookes so fierce,
Onelie disposed to martiall Stratagems?
Who when he shall embrace you in his armes,
Will tell how many thousand men he slew.
And when you looke for amorous discourse,
Will rattle foorth his facts of war and blood.
Too harsh a subject for your dainty eares.
As looks the sun through Nilus flowing stream,
Or when the morning holds him in her armes:
So lookes my Lordly love, faire Tamburlaine.
His talke much sweeter than the Muses song,
They sung for honor gainst Pierides,
Or when Minerva did with Neptune strive.
And higher would Ireare my estimate,
Than Juno sister to the highest God,
If I were matcht with mightie Tamburlaine.
Yet be not so inconstant in your love,
But let the yong Arabian live in hope,
After your rescue to enjoy his choise.
You see though first the King of Persea
(Being a Shepheard) seem'd to love you much,
Now in his majesty he leaves those lookes,
Those words of favour, and those comfortings,
And gives no more than common courtesies.
Thence rise the tears that so distain my cheeks,
Fearing his love through my unworthynesse.
Tamburlaine goes to her, and takes her awey lovingly by the hand, looking wrathfully on Agidas, and sayes nothing.
[Exeunt. Manet Agidas.]
Betraide by fortune and suspitious love,
Threatned with frowning wrath and jealousie,
Surpriz'd with feare of hideous revenge,
I stand agast: but most astonied
To see his choller shut in secrete thoughtes,
And wrapt in silence of his angry soule.
Upon his browes was pourtraid ugly death,
And in his eies the furie of his hart,
That shine as Comets, menacing revenge,
And casts a pale complexion on his cheeks.
As when the Sea-man sees the Hyades
Gather an armye of Cemerian clouds,
(Auster and Aquilon with winged Steads
All sweating, tilt about the watery heavens,
With shivering speares enforcing thunderclaps,
And from their shieldes strike flames of lightening)
All fearefull foldes his sailes, and sounds the maine,
Lifting his prayers to the heavens for aid,
Against the terrour of the winds and waves.
So fares Agidas for the late felt frownes
That sent a tempest to my daunted thoughtes,
And makes my soule devine her overthrow.
Enter Techelles with a naked dagger.
See you Agidas how the King salutes you.
He bids you prophesie what it import.
I prophecied before and now I proove,
The killing frownes of jealousie and love.
He needed not with words confirme my feare,
For words are vaine where working tooles present
The naked action of my threatned end.
It saies, Agydas, thou shalt surely die,
And of extremities elect the least.
More honor and lesse paine it may procure,
To dy by this resolved hand of thine,
Than stay the torments he and heaven have sworne.
Then haste Agydas, and prevent the plagues:
Which thy prolonged Fates may draw on thee:
Go wander free from feare of Tyrants rage,
Remooved from the Torments and the hell:
Wherewith he may excruciate thy soule.
And let Agidas by Agidas die,
And with this stab slumber eternally. [Dies.]
[Enter Techelles and
Usumcasane, see how right the man
Hath hit the meaning of my Lord the King.
Faith, and Techelles, it was manly done:
And since he was so wise and honorable,
Let us affoord him now the bearing hence.
And crave his triple worthy buriall.
Agreed Casane, we wil honor him.
Act 3, Scene 3
[Enter] Tamburlain, Techelles, Usumcasane, Theridamas, Bassoe, Zenocrate, [Anippe,] with others.
Bassoe, by this thy Lord and maister knowes,
I meane to meet him in Bithynia:
See how he comes? Tush. Turkes are ful of brags
And menace more than they can wel performe:
He meet me in the field and fetch thee hence?
Alas (poore Turke) his fortune is to weake,
T'incounter with the strength of Tamburlaine
View well my Camp, and speake indifferently,
Doo not my captaines and my souldiers looke
As if they meant to conquer Affrica.
Your men are valiant but their number few,
And cannot terrefie his mightie hoste.
Mv Lord. the great Commander of the worlde.
Besides fifteene contributorie kings,
Hath now in armes ten thousand Janisaries,
Mounted on lusty Mauritanian Steeds,
Brought to the war by men of Tripoly:
Two hundred thousand footmen that have serv'd
In two set batters fought in Grecia:
And for the expedition of this war,
If he think good, can from his garrisons,
Withdraw as many more to follow him.
The more he brings, the greater is the spoile,
For when they perish by our warlike hands,
We meane to seate our footmen on their Steeds,
And rifle all those stately Janisars.
But wil those Kings accompany your Lord?
Such as his Highnesse please, but some must stay
To rule the provinces he late subdude.
Then fight couragiously, their crowns are yours.
This hand shal set them on your conquering heads:
That made me Emperour of Asia.
Let him bring millions infinite of men,
Unpeopling Westerne Affrica and Greece:
Yet we assure us of the victorie.
Even he that in a trice vanquisht two kings,
More mighty than the Turkish Emperour:
Shall rouse him out of Europe, and pursue
His scattered armie til they yeeld or die.
Wel said Theridamas, speake in that mood,
For Wil and Shall best fitteth Tamburlain,
Whose smiling stars gives him assured hope
Of martiall triumph, ere he meete his foes:
I that am tearm'd the Scourge and Wrath of God,
The onely feare and terrour of the world,
Wil first subdue the Turke, and then inlarge
Those Christian Captives, which you keep as slaves,
Burdening their bodies with your heavie chaines,
And feeding them with thin and slender fare,
That naked rowe about the Terrene sea.
And when they chance to breath and rest a space,
Are punisht with Bastones so grievously,
That they lie panting on the Gallies side,
And strive for life at every stroke they give.
These are the quell priates of Argeire,
That damned traine, the scum of Affrica,
Inhabited with stragling Runnagates,
That make quick havock of the Christian blood.
But as Ilive that towne shall curse the time
That Tamburlaine set foot in Affrica.
Enter Bajazethwith his Bassoes and contributorie Kinges [and Zabina and Ebea].
Bassoes and Janisaries of my Guard,
Attend upon the person of your Lord,
The greatest Potentate of Affrica.
Techelles, and the rest prepare your swordes,
I meane t'incounter with that Bajazeth.
Kings of Fesse, Moroccus and Argier,
He cals me Bajazeth, whom you call Lord.
Note the presumption of this Scythian slave:
I tell thee villaine, those that lead my horse
Have to their names tytles of dignity,
And dar'st thou bluntly call me Bajazeth?
And know thou Turke, that those which lead my horse,
Shall lead thee Captive thorow Affrica
And dar'st thou bluntly call me Tamburlaine?
By Mahomet, my Kinsmans sepulcher,
And by the holy Alcaron I sweare,
He shall be made a chest and lustlesse Eunuke,
And in my Sarell tend my Concubines:
And all his Captaines that thus stoutly stand,
Shall draw the chariot of my Emperesse,
Whom I have brought to see their overthrow.
Bythis my sword that conquer'd Persea,
Thy fall shall make me famous through the world:
I will not tell thee how Ile handle thee,
But every common souldier of my Camp
Shall smile to see thy miserable state.
What meanes the mighty Turkish Emperor
To talk with one so base as Tamburlaine?
Ye Moores and valiant men of Barbary,
How can ye suffer these indignities?
Leave words and let them feele your lances pointes,
Which glided through the bowels of the Greekes.
Wel said my stout contributory kings,
Your threefold armie and my hugie hoste,
Shall swallow up these base borne Perseans.
Puissant, renowmed and mighty Tamburlain,
Why stay we thus prolonging all their lives?
I long to see those crownes won by our swords,
That we may raigne as kings of Affrica.
What Coward wold not fight for such a prize?
Fight all couragiously and be you kings.
I speake it, and my words are oracles.
Zabina, mother of three braver boies,
Than Hercules, that in his infancie
Did pash the jawes of Serpents venomous:
Whose hands are made to gripe a warlike Lance,
Their shoulders broad, for complet armour fit,
Their lims more large and of a bigger size
Than all the brats ysprong from Typhons loins:
Who, when they come unto their fathers age,
Will batter Turrets with their manly fists.
Sit here upon this royal chaire of state,
And on thy head weare my Emperiall crowne,
Untill I bring this sturdy Tamburlaine,
And all his Captains bound in captive chaines.
Such good successe happen to Bajazeth.
Zenocrate:, the loveliest Maide alive
Fairer than rockes of pearle and pretious stone,
The onely Paragon of Tamburlaine,
Whose eies are brighter than the Lamps of heaven,
And speech more pleasant than sweet harmony:
That with thy lookes canst cleare the darkened Sky:
And calme the rage of thundring Jupiter:
Sit downe by her: adorned with my Crowne,
As if thou wert the Empresse of the world.
Stir not Zenocrate untill thou see
Me martch victoriously with all my men,
Triumphing over him and these his kings,
Which I will bring as Vassals to thy feete.
Til then take thou my crowne, vaunt of my worth,
And manage words with her as we will armes.
And may my Love, the king of Persea,
Returne with victorie, and free from wound.
Now shalt thou feel the force of Turkish arms,
Which lately made all Europe quake for feare:
I have of Turkes, Arabians, Moores and Jewes
Enough to cover all Bythinia.
Let thousands die, their slaughtered Carkasses
Shall serve for walles and bulwarkes to the rest:
And as the heads of Hydra, somy power
Subdued, shall stand as mighty as before:
If they should yeeld their necks unto the sword,
Thy souldiers armes could not endure to strike
So many blowes as I have heads for thee.
Thou knowest not (foolish hardy Tamburlaine)
What tis to meet me in the open field,
That leave no ground for thee to martch upon.
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 onthe white Tartarian hils:
My Campe is like to Julius Caesars Hoste,
That never fought but had the victorie:
Nor in Pharsalia was there such hot war,
As these my followers willingly would have:
Legions of Spirits fleeting in the aire,
Direct our Bullets and our weapons pointes
And make our strokes to wound the sencelesse aire.
And when she sees our bloody Collours spread,
Then Victorie begins to take her flight,
Resting her selfe upon my milk-white Tent:
But come my Lords, to weapons let us fall.
The field is ours, the Turk, his wife and all.
Exit, with his followers.
Come Kings and Bassoes, let us glut our swords
That thirst to drinke the feble Perseans blood.
Exit, with his followers.
Base Concubine, must thou be plac'd by me
That am the Empresse of the mighty Turke?
Disdainful Turkesse and unreverend Bosse,
Cal'st thou me Concubine that am betroath'd
Unto the great and mighty Tamburlaine?
To Tamburlaine the great Tartarian thiefe?
Thou wilt repent these lavish words of thine,
When thy great Bassoe-maister and thy selfe,
Must plead for mercie at his kingly feet,
And sue to me to be your Advocates.
And sue to thee? I tell thee shamelesse girle,
Thou shalt be Landresse to my waiting maid.
How lik'st thou her Ebea, will she serve?
Madame, she thinks perhaps she is too fine.
But I shall turne her into other weedes,
And make her daintie fingers fall to woorke.
Hearst thou Anippe, how thy drudge doth talk,
And how my slave, her mistresse menaceth.
Both for their sausinesse shall be employed,
To dresse the common souldiers meat and drink.
For we will scorne they should come nere our selves.
Yet somtimes let your highnesse send for them
To do the work my chamber maid disdaines.
They sound to the battell within, and stay.
Ye Gods and powers that governe Persea,
And made my lordly Love her worthy King:
Now strengthen him against the Turkish Bajazeth,
And let his foes like flockes of fearfull Roes,
Pursude by hunters, flie his angrie lookes,
That I may see him issue Conquerour.
Now Mahomet, solicit God himselfe,
And make him raine down murthering shot from heaven
To dash the Scythians braines, and strike them dead,
That dare to manage armes with him,
That offered jewels to thy sacred shrine,
When first he war'd against the Christians.
To the battell againe.
By this the Turks lie weltring in their blood
And Tamburlaine is Lord of Affrica.
Thou art deceiv'd, I heard the Trumpets sound,
As when my Emperour overthrew the Greeks:
And led them Captive into Affrica
Straight will I use thee as thy pride deserves:
Prepare thy selfe to live and die my slave.
If Mahomet should come from heaven and sweare,
My royall Lord is slaine or conquered,
Yet should he not perswade me otherwise,
But that he lives and will be Conquerour.
Bajazeth flies [over the stage], and he pursues him. The battell short, and they enter, Bajazeth is overcome.
Now king of Bassoes, who is Conqueror?
Thou, by the fortune of thisdamned foile.
Where are your stout contributorie kings?
Enter Techelles, Theridamas, Usumcasane.
We have their crownes, their bodies strowe the fielde.
Each man a crown? why kingly fought ifaith.
Deliver them into my treasurie.
Now let me offer to my gracious Lord,
His royall Crowne againe, so highly won.
Nay take the Turkish Crown from her, Zenocrate,
And crowne me Emperour of Affrica.
No Tamburlain, though now thou gat the best,
Thou shalt not yet be Lord of Affrica.
Give her the Crowne Turkesse, you wer best.
He takes it from her,and gives it Zenocrate.
Injurious villaines, thieves, runnagates,
How dare you thus abuse my Maiesty?
Here Madam, you are Empresse, she is none.
Not now Theridamas, her time is past:
The pilfers that have bolstered up those tearmes,
Are falne in clusters at my conquering feet.
Though he be prisoner, he may be ransomed.
Not all the world shall ransom Bajazeth
Ah faire Zabina, we have lost the field.
And never had the Turkish Emperour
So great a foile by any forraine foe.
Now will the Christian miscreants be glad,
Ringing with joy their superstitious belles:
And making bonfires for my overthrow.
But ere I die those foule Idolaters
Shall make me bonfires with their filthy bones,
For though the glorie of this day be lost,
Affrik and Greece have garrisons enough
To make me Soveraigne of the earth againe.
Those walled garrisons wil I subdue,
And write my selfe great Lord of Affrica:
So from the East unto the furthest West,
Shall Tamburlain extend his puisant arme.
The Galles and those pilling Briggandines,
That yeerely saile to the Venetian gulfe,
And hover in the straightes for Christians wracke,
Shall lie at anchor in the Isle Asant,
Untill the Persean Fleete and men of war,
Sailing along the Orientall sea,
Have fetcht about the Indian continent:
Even from Persepolis to Mexico,
And thence unto the straightes of Jubalter:
Where they shall meete, and joine their force in one,
Keeping in aw the Bay of Portingale:
And all the Ocean by the British shore.
And by this meanes Ile win the world at last.
Yet set a ransome on me Tamburlaine.
What, thinkst thou Tamburlain esteems thy gold?
Ile 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 lead in the Turke.
The Turkesse let my Loves maid lead away.
They bind them.
Ah villaines, dare ye touch my sacred armes?
O Mahomet, Oh sleepie Mahomet.
O cursed Mahomet that makest us thus
The slaves to Scythians rude and barbarous.
Come bring them in, and for this happy conquest
Triumph, and solemnize a martiall feast.
Act 4, Scene 1
[Enter] Souldan of Egipt with three or four Lords, Capolin [, and a Messenger.]
Awake ye men of Memphis, heare the clange
Of Scythian trumpets, heare the Basiliskes,
That roaring, shake Damascus turrets downe.
The rogue of Volge holds Zenocrate,
The Souldans daughter for his Concubine,
And with a troope of theeves and vagabondes,
Hath spread his collours to our high disgrace:
While you faint-hearted base Egyptians,
Lie slumbering on the flowrie bankes of Nile,
As Crocodiles that unaffrighted rest,
While thundring Cannons rattle on their Skins.
Nay (mightie Souldan) did your greames see
The frowning lookes of fiery Tamburlaine,
That with his terrour and imperious eies,
Commandes the hearts of his associates,
It might amaze your royall majesty.
Villain, I tell thee, were that Tamburlaine
As monstrous as Gorgon, prince of Hell,
The Souldane would not start a foot from him.
But speake, what power hath he?
Three hundred thousand men in armour clad,
Upon their prancing Steeds, disdainfully
With wanton paces trampling on the ground.
Five hundred thousand footmen threatning shot,
Shaking their swords, their speares and yron bils,
Environing their Standard round, that stood
As bristle-pointed as a thorny wood.
Their warlike Engins and munition
Exceed the forces of their martial men.
Nay could their numbers countervail the stars,
Or ever drilling drops of Aprill showers,
Or withered leaves that Autume shaketh downe:
Yet would the Souldane by his conquering power,
So scatter and consume them in his rage,
That not a man should live to rue their fall.
So might your highnesse, had you time to sore
Your fighting men, and raise your royall hoste.
But Tamburlaine, byexpedition
Advantage takes of your unreadinesse.
Let him take all th'advantages he can,
Were all the world conspird to fight for him,
Nay, were he Devill, as he is no man,
Yet in revenge of faire Zenocrate,
Whom he detaineth in despight of us,
This arme should send him downe to Erebus,
To shroud his shame in darknes of the night.
Pleaseth your mightinesse to understand,
His resolution far exceedeth all:
The first day when he pitcheth downe his tentes,
White is their hew, and on his silver crest
A snowy Feather spangled white he beares,
To signify the mildnesse of his minde:
That satiate with spoile refuseth blod.
But when Aurora mounts the second time,
As red as scarlet is his furniture,
Then must his kindled wrath bee quencht with blood,
Not sparing any that can manage armes.
But if these threats moove not submission,
Black are his collours, blacke Pavilion,
His speare, his shield, his horse, his armour, plumes,
And Jetty Feathers menace death and hell.
Without respect of Sex, degree or age,
He raceth all his foes with fire and sword.
Mercilesse villaine, Pesant ignorant,
Of lawfull armes, or martiall discipline:
Pillage and murder are his usuall trades.
The slave usurps the glorious name of war.
See Capolin, the faire Arabian king
That hath bene disapointed by this slave,
Of my faire daughter, and his princely Love:
May have fresh warning to go war with us,
And be reveng'd for her disparadgement.
Act 4, Scene 2
[Enter] Tamburlain, Techelles, Theridamas, Usumcasane, Zenocrate Anippe, two Moores drawing Bajazeth in his cage, and his wife following him.
Bring out my foot-stoole.
They take him out of the cage.
Ye holy Priests of heavenly Mahomet,
That sacrificing slice and cut your flesh,
Staining his Altars with your purple blood:
Make heaven to frowne and every fixed starre
To sucke up poison from the moorish Fens,
And poure it in this glorious Tyrants throat.
The chiefest God, first moover of that Spheare
Enchac'd with thousands ever shining lamps,
Will sooner burne the glorious frame of Heaven,
Then it should so conspire my overthrow.
But Villaine, thou that wishest this to me,
Fall prostrate on the lowe disdainefull earth.
And be the foot-stoole of great Tamburlain,
That I may rise into my royall throne.
First shalt thou rip my bowels with thy sword,
And sacrifice my heart to death and hell,
Before I yeeld to such a slavery.
Base villain, vassall, slave to Tamburlaine:
Unworthy to imbrace or touch the ground,
That beares the honor of my royall weight.
Stoop villaine, stoope, stoope for so he bids,
That may command thee peecemeale to be tome,
Or scattered like the lofty Cedar trees,
Strooke with the voice of thundring Jupiter.
Then as I look downe to the damned Feends,
Feends looke on me, and thou dread God of hell,
With Eban Scepter strike this hatefull earth,
And make it swallow both of us at once.
He gets up upon him to his chaire.
Now cleare the triple region of the aire,
And let the majestie of heaven beholde
Their Scourge and Terrour treade on Emperours.
Smile Stars that raign'd at my nativity,
And dim the brightnesse of their neighbor Lamps:
Disdaine to borrow light of Cynthia,
For I the chiefest Lamp of all the earth,
First rising in the East with milde aspect,
But fixed now in the Meridian line,
Will send up fire to your turning Spheares,
And cause the Sun to borrowe light of you.
My sword stroke fire from his coat of steele,
Even in Bythinia, when I took this Turke:
As when a fiery exhalation
Wrapt in the bowels of a freezing cloude,
Fighting for passage, makes the Welkin cracke,
And casts a flash of lightning to the earth.
But ere I martch to wealthy Persea,
Or leave Damascus and th'Egyptian fields,
As was the fame of Clymens brain-sicke sonne,
That almost brent the Axeltree of heaven,
So shall our swords, our lances and our shot,
Fill all the aire with fiery meteors.
Then when the Sky shal waxe as red as blood,
It shall be said, Imade it red my selfe,
To make me think of nought but blood and war.
Unworthy king, that by thy crueltie,
Unlawfully usurpest the Persean seat:
Dar'st thou that never saw an Emperour,
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 golde, and sun-bright Pallaces,
Should have prepar'd to entertaine his Grace?
And treading him beneath thy loathsome feet,
Whose feet the kings of Affrica have kist.
Youmust devise some torment worsse, my Lord,
To make these captives reine their lavish tongues.
Zenocrate, looke better to your slave.
She is my Handmaids slave, and she shal looke
That these abuses flow not from her tongue:
Chide her Anippe.
Let these be warnings for you then my slave,
How you abuse the person of the king:
Or els I sweare to have you whips stark nak'd.
Great Tamburlaine, great in my overthrow,
Ambitious pride shall make thee fall as low,
For treading on the back of Bajazeth,
That should be horsed on fower mightie kings.
Thy names and tytles, and thy dignities,
Are fled from Bajazeth, and remaine with me,
That will maintaine it against a world of Kings.
Put him in againe.
[They put him into the cage.]
Is this a place for mighty Bajazeth?
Confusion light on him that helps thee thus.
There whiles he lives, shal Bajazeth be kept,
And where I goe be thus in triumph drawne:
And thou his wife shalt feed him with the scraps
My servitures shall bring the from my boord.
For he that gives him other food than this:
Shall sit by him and starve to death himselfe.
This is my minde, and I will have it so.
Not all the Kings and Emperours of the Earth:
If they would lay their crownes before my feet,
Shall ransome him, or take him from his cage.
The ages that shall talk of Tamburlain,
Even from this day to Platoes wondrous yeare,
Shall talke how I have handled Bajazeth
These Mores that drew him from Bythinia,
To faire Damascus, where we now remaine,
Shall lead him with us wheresoere we goe.
Techelles, and my loving followers,
Now may we see Damascus lofty towers,
Like to the shadowes of Pyramides,
That with their beauties grac'd the Memphion fields:
The golden stature of their feathered bird
That spreads her wings upon the citie wars,
Shall not defend it from our battering shot.
The townes-men maske in silke and cloath of gold,
And every house is as a treasurie.
The men, the treasure, and the towne is ours.
Your tentes of white now pitch'd before the gates
And gentle flags of amitie displaid.
I doubt not but the Governour will yeeld,
Offering Damascus to your Majesty.
So shall he have his life, and all the rest.
But if he stay until the bloody flag
Be once advanc'd on my vermilion Tent,
He dies, and those that kept us out so long.
And when they see me march in black aray
With mournfull streamers hanging down their heads,
Were in that citie all the world contain'd,
Not one should scape: but perish by our swords.
Yet would you have some pitie for my sake,
Because it is my countries, and my Fathers.
Not for the world Zenocrate, if I have sworn:
Come bring in the Turke.
Act 4, Scene 3
[Enter] Souldane, Arabia, Capoline, with streaming collors and Souldiers
Me thinks we martch as Meliager did,
Environed with brave Argolian knightes,
To chace the savage Calidonian Boare:
Or Cephalus with lustie Thebane youths,
Against the Woolfe that angrie Themis sent,
To waste and spoile the sweet Aonian fieldes.
A monster of five hundred thousand heades,
Compact of Rapine, Pyracie, and spoile,
The Scum of men, the hate and Scourge of God,
Raves in Egyptia, and annoyeth us.
My Lord it is the bloody Tamburlaine,
A sturdy Felon and a base-bred Thiefe,
By murder raised to the Persean Crowne,
That dares controll us in our Territories.
To tame the pride of this presumptuous Beast,
Joine your Arabians with the Souldans power:
Let us unite our royall bandes in one,
And hasten to remoove Damascus siege.
It is a blemish to the Majestie
And high estate of mightie Emperours,
That such a base usurping vagabond
Should brave a king, or weare a princely crowne.
Renowmed Souldane, have ye lately heard
The overthrow of mightie Bajazeth,
About the confines of Bythinia?
The slaverie wherewith he persecutes
The noble Turke and his great Emperesse?
I have, and sorrow for his bad successe:
But noble Lord of great Arabia,
Be so perswaded, that the Souldan is
No more dismaide with tidings of his fall,
Than in the haven when the Pilot stands
And viewes a strangers ship rent in the winds,
And shivered against a craggie rocke.
Yet in compassion of his wretched state,
A sacred vow to heaven and him I make,
Confirming it with Ibis holy name,
That Tamburlaine shall rue the day, the hower,
Wherein he wrought such ignominious wrong,
Unto the hallowed person of a prince,
Or kept the faire Zenocrate so long,
As Concubine I feare to feed his lust.
Let griefe and furie hasten on revenge,
Let Tamburlaine for his offences feele
Such plagues as heaven and we can poure on him.
I long to breake my speare upon his crest,
And proove the weight of his victorious arme:
For Fame I feare hath bene too prodigall,
In sounding through the world his partiall praise.
Capolin, hast thou survaid our powers?
Great Emperours of Egypt and Arabia,
The number of your hostes united is,
A hundred and fifty thousand horse,
Two hundred thousand foot, brave men at armes,
Couragious and full of hardinesse:
As frolike as the hunters in the chace
Of savage beastes amid the desert woods.
My mind presageth fortunate successe,
And Tamburlaine, my spirit doth foresee
The utter ruine of thy men and thee.
Then reare your standardes, let your sounding Drummes
Direct our Souldiers to Damascus walles.
Now Tamburlaine, the mightie Souldane comes,
And leads with him the great Arabian King ,
To dim thy basenesse and obscurity,
Famous for nothing but for theft and spoile,
To race and scatter thy inglorious crue,
Of Scythians and slavish Persians.
Act 4, Scene 4
The Banquet, and to it commeth Tamburlain al in scarlet, Theridamas,Techelles, Usumcasane, the Turke, with others.
Now hang our bloody collours by Damascus ,
Reflexing hewes of blood upon their heads,
While they walke quivering on their citie walles,
Halfe dead for feare before they feele my wrath:
Then let us freely banquet and carouse
Full bowles of wine unto the God of war,
That meanes to fill your helmets full of golde:
And make Damascus spoiles as rich to you,
As was to Jason Colchos golden fleece.
And now Bajazeth, hast thou any stomacke?
I, such a stomacke (cruel Tambulaine) as I could willinglyfeed upon thy blood-raw hart.
Nay, thine owne is easier to come by, plucke out that,andtwil serve thee and thy wife: Wel Zenocrate, Techelles, and the rest, fall to your victuals.
Fall to, and never may your meat digest.
Ye Furies that can maske invisible,
Dive to the bottome of Avernus poole,
And in your hands bring hellish poison up,
And squease it in the cup of Tamburlain
Or winged snakes of Lerna cast your stings,
And leave your venoms in this Tyrants dish.
And may this banquet proove as omenous,
As Prognes toth'adulterous Thracian King,
That fed upon the substance of his child.
My Lord, how can you suffer these outragious curses bythese slaves of yours?
To let them see (divine Zenocrate))
I glorie in the curses of my foes,
Having the power from the Emperiall heaven,
To turne them al upon their proper heades.
I pray you give them leave Madam, this speech is a
goodly refreshing to them.
But if his highnesse would let them be fed, it would
doe them more good.
Sirra, why fall you not too, are you so daintily
brought up, you cannot eat your owne flesh?
First legions of devils shall teare thee in peeces.
Villain, knowest thou to whom thou speakest?
O let him alone: here, eat sir, take it from my
swords point, or Ile thrust it to thy heart.
He takes it and stamps
He stamps it under his feet my Lord.
Take it up Villaine , and eat it, or I will make thee
slice the brawnes of thy armes into carbonadoes, and eat them.
Nay, twere better he kild his wife, and then she
shall be sure not to be starv'd, and he be provided for a mon-
eths victuall before hand.
Here is my dagger, dispatch her while she is fat,
for if she live but a while longer, shee will fall into a con-
sumption with freatting, and then she will not bee woorth the
Doost thou think that Mahomet wil suffer this?
Tis like he wil, when he cannot let it.
Go to, fal to your meat: what, not a bit? belike he
hath not bene watered to day, give him some drinke. They give him water to drinke, and he flings it on the ground.
Faste and welcome sir, while hunger make you eat.
How now Zenocrate, dooth not the Turke and his wife make a
goodly showe at a banquet?
Yes, my Lord.
Me thinks, tis a great deale better than a consort of
Yet musicke woulde doe well to cheare up Zenocrate:
pray thee tel, why art thou so sad? If thou wilt have a song, the
Turke shall straine his voice: but why is it?
My lord, to see my fathers towne besieg'd,
The countrie wasted where my selfe was borne,
How can it but afflict my verie soule?
If any love remaine in you my Lord,
Or if my love unto your majesty
May merit favour at your highnesse handes,
Then raise your siege from faire Damascus walles,
And with my father take a frindly truce.
Zenocrate, were Egypt Joves owne land,
Yet would I with my sword make Jove to stoope.
I will confute those blind Geographers
That make a triple region in the world,
Excluding Regions which I meane to trace,
And with this pen reduce them to a Map,
Calling the Provinces, Citties and townes
After my name and shine Zenocrate:
Here at Damascus will I make the Point
That shall begin the Perpendicular.
And wouldst thou have me buy thy Fathers love
With such a losse? Tell me Zenocrate?
Honor still weight on happy Tamburlaine:
Yet give me leave to plead for him my Lord.
Content thy selfe, his person shall be safe,
And all the friendes of faire Zenocrate,
If with their lives they will be pleasde to yeeld,
Or may be forc'd, to make me Emperour.
For Egypt and Arabia must be mine.
Feede you slave, thou maist thinke thy selfe happie to be fed from
My empty stomacke ful of idle heat,
Drawes bloody humours from my feeble parses,
Preserving life, by hastingquell death.
My vaines are pale, my sinowes hard and drie,
My jointes benumb'd, unlesse I eat, I die.
Eat Bajazeth. Let us live in spite of them,looking some
happie power will pitie and inlarge us.
Here Turk, wilt thou have a cleane trencher?
I Tyrant, and more meat.
Soft sir, you must be dieted, too much eating will
make you surfeit.
So it would my lord, specially having so smal a
walke, and so litle exercise.
Enter a second course of
Theridamas, Techelles and Casane, here are the
cates you desire to finger, are they not?
I (my Lord) but none save kinges must feede with
Tis enough for us to see them, and for Tamburlaine
onely to enjoy them.
Wel, hereis now to the Souldane of Egypt, the
King of Arabia, and the Governour of Damascus
Now take these three crownes, and pledge me, my contributorie Kings.
I crowne you here (Theridamas) King of Argier : Techelles King
of Fesse, and Usumcasane King of Morocus. How say you to
this (Turke) these are not your contributorie kings.
Nor shall they long be shine, I warrant them.
Kings of Argier, Morocus, and of Fesse,
You that have martcht with happy Tamburlaine,
As far as from the frozen plage of heaven,
Unto the watry mornings ruddy bower,
And thence by land unto the Torrid Zone,
Deserve these tytles I endow you with,
By valure and by magnanimity.
Your byrthes shall be no blemish to your fame,
For vertue is the fount whence honor springs.
And they are worthy she investeth kings.
And since your highnesse hath so well vouchsaft,
If we deserve them not with higher meeds
Then erst our states and actions have retain'd,
Take them away againe and make us slaves.
Wel said Theridamas, when holy Fates
Shall stablish me in strong Egyptia,
We meane to traveile to th' Antartique Pole,
Conquering the people underneath our feet.
And be renowm'd, as never Emperours were.
Zenocrate, I will not crowne thee yet,
Until with greater honors I be grac'd.
Act 5, Scene 1
[Enter] The Governour of Damasco, with three or foure Citizens, and foure Virgins, with branches of Laurell in their hands.
Stil dooth this man or rather God of war,
Batter our walles, and beat our Turrets downe.
And to resist with longer stubbornesse,
Or hope of rescue from the Souldans power,
Were but to bring our wilfull overthrow,
And make us desperate of our threatned lives:
We see his tents have now bene altered,
With terrours to the last and cruelst hew:
His cole-blacke collours every where advaunst,
Threaten our citie with a generall spoile:
And if we should with common rites of Armes,
Offer our safeties to his clemencie,
I feare the custome proper to his sword,
Which he observes as parcell of his fame,
Intending so to terrifie the world:
By any innovation or remorse,
Will never be dispenc'd with til our deaths.
Therfore, for these our harmlesse virgines sakes,
Whose honors and whose lives relie on him:
Let us have hope that their unspotted praiers,
Their blubbered cheekes and hartie humble mones
Will melt his furie into some remorse:
And use us like a loving Conquerour.
If humble suites or imprecations,
(Uttered with teares of wretchednesse and blood,
Shead from the heads and hearts; of all our Sex,
Some made your wives, and some your children)
Might have intreated your obdurate breasts,
To entertaine some care of our securities,
Whiles only danger beat upon our walles,
These more than dangerous warrants of our death,
Had never bene erected as they bee,
Nor you depend on such weake helps as we.
Wel, lovely Virgins, think our countries care,
Our love of honor loth to be enthral'd
To forraine powers, and rough imperious yokes:
Would not with too much cowardize or feare,
Before all hope of rescue were denied,
Submit your selves and us to servitude.
Therefore in that your safeties and our owne,
Your honors, liberties and lives were weigh'd
In equall care and ballance with our owne,
Endure as we the malice of our stars,
The wrath of Tamburlain, and power of warres.
Or be the means the overweighing heavens
Have kept to quallifie these hot extreames,
And bring us pardon in your chearfull lookes.
Then here before the majesty of heaven,
And holy Patrones of Egyptia,
With knees and hearts submissive we intreate
Grace to our words and pitie to our lookes,
That this devise may proove propitious,
And through the eies and eares of Tamburlaine,
Convey events of mercie to his heart:
Graunt that these signes of victorie we yeeld
May bind the temples of his conquering head,
To hide the folded furrowes of his browes,
And shadow his displeased countenance,
With happy looks of ruthe and lenity.
Leave us my Lord, and loving countrimen,
What simple Virgins may perswade, we will.
Farewell (sweet Virgins) on whose safe return
Depends our citie, libertie, and lives.
Exeunt [Manent Virgins.]
Tamburlaine,Techelles,Theridamas, Usumcasane,with others: Tamburlaine all in
blacke, and verie melancholy.
What, are the Turtles fraide out of their neastes?
Alas poore fooles, must you be first shal feele
The sworne destruction of Damascus
They know my custome: could they not as well
Have sent ye out, when first my milkwhite flags
Through which sweet mercie threw her gentle beams,
Reflexing them on your disdainfull eies:
As now when furie and incensed hate
Flings slaughtering terrour from my coleblack tents.
And tels for trueth, submissions comes too late.
Most happy King and Emperour of the earth,
Image of Honor and Nobilitie.
For whome the Powers divine have made the world,
And on whose throne the holy Graces sit.
In whose sweete person is compriz'd the Sum
Of natures Skill and heavenly majestic.
Pittie our plightes, O pitie poore Damascus:
Pitie olde age, within whose silver haires
Honor and reverence evermore have raign'd,
Pitie the mariage bed, where many a Lord
In prime and glorie of his loving joy,
Embraceth now with teares of ruth and blood,
The jealous bodie of his fearfull wife,
Whose cheekes and hearts so punisht with conceit,
To thinke thy puisant never staied arme
Will part their bodies, and prevent their soules
From heavens of comfort, yet their age might beare,
Now waxe all pale and withered to the death,
As well for griefe our ruthlesse Governour
Have thus refusde the mercie of thy hand,
(Whose scepter Angels kisse, and Furies dread)
As for their liberties, their loves or lives.
O then for these, and such as we our selves,
For us, for infants, and for all our bloods,
That never nourisht thought against thy rule,
Pitie, O pitie, (sacred Emperour)
The prostrate service of this wretched towne.
And take in signe thereof this gilded wreath,
Whereto ech man of rule hath given his hand,
And wisht as worthy subjects happy meanes,
To be investers of thy royall browes,
Even with the true Egyptian Diadem.
Virgins, in vaine ye labour to prevent
That which mine honor sweares shal be perform'd:
Behold my sword, what see you at the point?
Nothing but feare and fatall steele my Lord.
Your fearfull minds are thicke and mistie then,
For there sits Death, there sits imperious Death,
Keeping his circuit by the slicing edge.
But I am pleasde you shall not see him there:
He now is seated on my horsmens speares,
And on their points his fleshlesse bodie feedes.
Techelles, straight goe charge a few of them
To chardge these Dames, and shew my servant death,
Sitting in scarlet on their armed speares.
Away with them I say and shew them death.
They [Techelles and soldiers] take them away.
I will not spare these proud Egyptians,
Nor change my Martiall observations,
For all the wealth of Gehons golden waves.
Or for the love of Venus, would she leave
The angrie God of Armes, and lie with me.
They have refusde the offer of their lives,
And know my customes are as peremptory
As wrathfull Planets, death, or destinie.
What, have your horsmen shewen the virgins Death?
They have my Lord, and on Damascus wals
Have hoisted up their slaughtered carcases.
Asight as banefull to their soules I think
Asare Thessalian drugs or Mithradate.
But goe my Lords, put the rest tothe sword.
Exeunt. [Manet Tamburlaine.]
Ah faire Zenocrate, divine Zenocrate,
Faire is too foule an Epithite for thee,
That in thy passion for thy countries love,
And feare to see thy kingly Fathers harme,
With haire discheweld wip'st thy watery cheeks:
And like to Flora in her mornings pride,
Shaking her silver tresses in the aire,
Rain'st on the earth resolved pearle in showers,
And sprinklest Saphyrs on thy shining face,
Wher Beauty, mother tothe Muses sits,
And comments vollumes with her Ivory pen:
Taking instructions from thy flowing eies,
Eies when that Ebena steps to heaven,
In silence of thy solemn Evenings walk,
Making the mantle of the richest night,
The Moone, the Planets, and the Meteors light.
There Angels in their christal armours fight
A doubtfull battell with my tempted thoughtes,
For Egypts freedom and the Souldans life:
His life that so consumes Zenocrate,
Whose sorrowes lay more siege unto my soule,
Than all my Army to Damascus walles.
And neither Perseans Soveraign, nor the Turk
Troubled my sences with conceit of foile,
So much by much, as dooth Zenocrate
What is beauty, saith my sufferings then?
If all the pens that ever poets held,
Had fed the feeling of their maisters thoughts,
And every sweetnes that inspir'd their harts,
Their minds, and muses on admyred theames:
If all the heavenly Quintessence they still
From their immortall flowers of Poesy,
Wherein as in a myrrour we perceive
The highest reaches of a humaine wit:
If these had made one Poems period
And all combin'd in Beauties worthinesse,
Yet should ther hover in their restlesse heads,
One thought, one grace, one woonder at the least,
Which into words no vertue can digest:
But how unseemly is it for my Sex,
My discipline of armes and Chivalrie,
My nature and the terrour of my name,
To harbour thoughts effeminate and faint?
Save onely that in Beauties just applause,
With whose instinct the soule of man is toucht,
And every warriour that is rapt with love
Of fame, of valour, and of victory,
Must needs have beauty beat on his conceites.
I thus conceiving and subduing both:
That which hath stooptthe tempest of the Gods,
Even from the fiery spangled vaile of heaven,
To feele the lovely warmth of shepheards flames,
And martch in cottages of strowed weeds:
Shal give the world to note, for all my byrth,
That Vertue solely is the sum of glorie,
And fashions men with true nobility.
Who's within there?
Enter two or three.
Hath Bajazeth bene fed to day?
I, my Lord.
Bring him forth, and let us know if the towne be
Enter Techelles, Theridamas, Usumcasane, and others.
The town is ours my Lord, and fresh supply
Of conquest, and of spoile is offered us.
Thats wel Techelles, what's the newes?
The Souldan and the Arabian king together
Martch on us withsuch eager violence,
As if there were no way but one with us.
No more there is not I warrant thee Techelles.
They bring in the Turke [in his cage, and Zabina].
We know the victorie is ours my Lord,
But let us save the reverend Souldans life,
For faire Zenocrate, that so laments his state.
That will we chiefly see unto, Theridamas,
For sweet Zenocrate, whose worthinesse
Deserves a conquest over every hart:
And now my footstoole, if I loose the field,
You hope of libertie and restitution:
Here let him stay my maysters from the tents,
Till we have made us ready for the field.
Pray for us Bajazeth, we are going.
Exeunt. [Manent Bajazeth and Zabina.]
Go, never to returne with victorie:
Millions of men encompasse thee about,
And gore thy body with as many wounds.
Sharpe forked arrowes light upon thy horse:
Furies from the blacke Cocitus lake,
Breake up the earth, and with their firebrands,
Enforce thee run upon the banefull pikes.
Volleyes of shot pierce through thy charmed Skin,
And every bullet dipt in poisoned drugs,
Or roaring Cannons sever all thy joints,
Making thee mount as high as Eagles soare.
Let all the swords and Lances in the field,
Stick in his breast, as in their proper roomes.
At every pore let blood comme dropping foorth,
That lingring paines may massacre his heart.
And madnesse send his damned soule to hell.
Ah faire Zabina, we may curse his power,
The heavens may frowne, the earth for anger quake,
But such a Star hath influence in his sword,
As rules the Skies, and countermands the Gods:
More than Cymerian Stix or Distinie.
And then shall we in this detested guyse,
With shame, with hunger, and with horror aie
Griping our bowels with retorqued thoughtes,
And have no hope to end our extasies.
Then is there left no Mahomet, no God,
No Feend, no Fortune, nor no hope of end
To our infamous monstrous slaveries?
Gape earth, and let the Feends infernall view
A hell, as hoplesse and as full of feare,
As are the blasted banks of Erelus:
Where shaking ghosts with ever howling gropes,
Hover about the ugly Ferriman, To get a passage to Elisiean.
Why should we live, O wretches, beggars, slaves,
Why live we Bajazeth, and build up neasts,
So high within the region of the aire,
By living long in this oppression,
That all the world will see and laugh to scorne,
The former triumphes of our mightines,
In this obscure infernall servitude?
Olife more loathsome to my vexed thoughts,
Than noisome parbreak of the Stygian Snakes,
Which fils the nookes of Hell with standing aire,
Infecting all the Ghosts with curelesse griefs:
O dreary Engines of my loathed sight,
That sees my crowne, my honor and my name,
Thrust under yoke and thraldom of a thiefe.
Why feed ye still on daies accursed beams,
And sink not quite into my tortur'd soule.
You see my wife, my Queene and Emperesse,
Brought up and propped by the hand of fame,
Queen of fifteene contributory Queens,
Now thrower to roomes of blacke abjection,
Smear'd with blots of basest drudgery:
And Villanesse to shame, disdaine, and misery:
Accursed Bajazeth, whose words of ruth,
That would with pity cheer Zabinas heart,
And make our soules resolve in ceasles teares:
Sharp hunger bites upon and gripes the root,
From whence the issues of my thoughts doe breake:
O poore Zabina, O my Queen, my Queen,
Fetch me some water for my burning breast,
To coole and comfort me with longer date,
That in the shortned sequel of my life,
I may poure foorth my soule into thine armes,
With words of love: whose moaning entercourse
Hath hetherto bin staid, with wrath and hate
Of our expreslesse band inflictions.
Sweet Bajazeth, I will prolong thy life,
As long as any blood or sparke of breath
Can quench or coole the torments of my griefe.
She goes out.
Now Bajazeth, abridge thy banefull daies,
And beat thy braines out of thy conquer'd head:
Since other meanes are all forbidden me,
That may be ministers of my decay.
O highest Lamp of everliving Jove,
Accursed day infected with my griefs,
Hide now thy stained face in endles night,
And shut the windowes of the lightsome heavens.
Let ugly darknesse with her rusty coach
Engyrt with tempests wrapt in pitchy clouds,
Smother the earth with never fading misses:
And let her horses from their nostrels breathe
Rebellious winds and dreadfull thunderclaps:
That in this terrour Tamburlaine may live.
And my pin'd soule resolv'd in liquid ayre,
May styl excruciat his tormented thoughts.
Then let the stony dart of sencelesse colde,
Pierce through the center of my withered heart,
And make a passage for my loathed life.
He brains himself against the cage.
What do mine eies behold, my husband dead?
His Skul al rivin in twain, his braines dasht out?
The braines of Bajazeth, my Lord and Soveraigne?
O Bajazeth, my husband and my Lord,
O Bajazeth, O Turk, O Emperor.
Give him his liquor? Not
I, bring milk and fire, and my blood I
bring him againe, teare me in peeces, give me the sworde with a
ball of wildefire upon it. Downe with him, downe with him. Goe
to, my child, away, away, away. Ah, save that Infant, save him,
save him. I,even I speake to her. The Sun was downe. Streamers
white, Red, Blacke. Here, here, here. Fling the meat in his face.
Tamburlaine, Tamburlaine.Let the souldiers be buried. Hel, death, Tamburlain, Hell. Make ready my Coch, my chaire, my jewels, I
come, I come, I come.
She runs against the
Cage and braines her selfe.
Wretched Zenocrate, that livest to see,
Damascus walles di'd with Egyptian blood:
Thy Frathers subjects and thy countrimen.
Thy streetes strowed with dissevered jointes of men,
And wounded bodies gasping yet for life.
But most accurst, to see the Sun-bright troope
Of heavenly vyrgins and unspotted maides,
Whose lookes might make the angry God of armes,
To breake his sword, and mildly treat of love,
On horsmens Lances to be hoisted up,
And guiltlesly endure a quell death.
Eor every fell and stout Tartarian Stead
That stamps on others with their thundring hooves,
When al their riders chardg'd their quivering speares
Began to checke the ground, and rain themselves:
Gazing upon the beautie of their lookes:
Ah Tamburlaine, wert thou the cause of this
That tearm'st Zenocrate thy dearest love?
Whose lives were dearer to Zenocrate
Than her owne life, or ought save shine owne love.
But see another bloody spectacle.
Ah wretched eies, the enemies of my hart,
How are ye glutted with these grievous objects,
And tell my soule mor tales of bleeding rush?
See, se Anippe if they breathe or no.
No breath nor sence, nor motion in them both.
Ah Madam, this their slavery hath Enforc'd,
And ruthlesse cruelty of Tamburlaine.
Earth cast up fountaines from thy entralles,
And wet thy cheeks for their untimely deathes:
Shake with their weight in signe of feare and griefe:
Blush heaven, that gave them honor at their birth,
And let them die a death so barbarous.
Those that are proud of fickle Empery,
And place their chiefest good in earthly pompe:
Behold the Turke and his great Emperesse.
Ah Tamburlaine, my love, sweet Tamburlaine,
That fights for Scepters and for slippery crownes,
Behold the Turk and his great Emperesse.
Thou that in conduct of thy happy stars,
Sleep'st every night with conquest on thy browes,
And yet wouldst shun the wavering turnes of war,
In feare and feeling of the like distresse,
Behold the Turke and his great Emperesse.
Ah myghty Jove and holy Mahomet,
Pardon my Love, oh pardon his contempt,
Of earthly fortune, and respect of pitie,
And let not conquest ruthlesly pursewde
Be equally against his life incenst,
In this great Turk and haplesse Emperesse.
And pardon me that was not moov'd with ruthe,
To see them live so long in misery:
Ah what may chance to thee Zenocrate?
Madam content your self and be resolv'd,
Your Love hath fortune so at his command,
That she shall stay and turne her wheele no more,
As long as life maintaines his mighty arme,
That fights for honor to adorne your head.
Enter [Philemus,] a Messenger.
What other heavie news now brings Philemus?
Madam, your father and th'Arabian king,
The first affecter of your excellence,
Comes now as Turnus gainst Eneas did,
Armed with lance into the Egyptian fields,
Ready for battaile gainst my Lord the King.
Now shame and duty, love and feare presents
A thousand sorrowes to my martyred soule:
Whom should I wish the fatall victory,
When my poore pleasures are devided thus,
And racks by dutie from my cursed heart:
My father and my first betrothed love,
Must fight against my life and present love:
Wherin the change I use condemns my faith,
And makes my deeds infamous through the world.
But as the Gods to end the Troyans toile,
Prevented Turnus of Lavinia,
And fatally enricht Eneas love.
So for a finall Issue to my griefes,
Topacifie my countrie and my love,
Must Tamburlaine by their resistlesse powers,
With vertue of a gentle victorie,
Conclude a league of honor to my hope.
Then as the powers devine have preordainde.
With happy safty of my fathers life,
Send like defence of faire Arabia.
They sound to the battaile. And Tamburlaineenjoyes the victory, after Arabia enters wounded.
What cursed power guides the murthering hands,
Of this infamous Tyrants souldiers,
That no escape may save their enemies:
Nor fortune keep them selves from victory.
Lye down Arabia, wounded to the death,
And let Zenocrates faire eies beholde
That as for her thou bearst these wretched armes,
Even so for her thou diest in these armes:
Leaving thy blood for witnesse of thy love.
Too deare a witnesse for such love my Lord.
Behold Zenocrate, the cursed object
Whose Fortunes never mastered her griefs:
Behold her wounded in conceit for thee,
As much as thy faire body is for me.
Then shal I die with full contented heart,
Having beheld devine Zenocrate,
Whose sight with joy would take away my life,
As now it bringeth sweemesse to my wound,
If I had not bin wounded as I am.
Ah that the deadly panges I suffer now,
Would lend an howers license to my tongue:
To make discourse of some sweet accidents
Have chanc'd thy merits in this worthies bondage.
And that I might be privy to the state,
Of thy deserv'd contentment and thy love:
But making now a vertue of thy sight,
To drive all sorrow from my fainting soule:
Since Death denies me further cause of joy,
Depriv'd of care, my heart with comfort dies,
Since thy desired hand shall close mine eies.
Enter Tamburlain leading the Souldane, Techelles, Theridamas, Usumcasane, with others.
Come happy Father of Zenocrate,
A title higher than thy Souldans name:
Though my right hand have thus enthralled thee,
Thy princely daughter here shall set thee free.
She that hath calmde the furie of my sword,
Which had ere this bin bathde in streames of blood,
As vast and deep as Euphrates or Nile.
O sight thrice welcome to my joiful soule,
To see the king my Father issue safe,
From dangerous batter of my conquering Love.
Wel met my only deare Zenocrate,
Though with the losse of Egypt and my Crown.
Twas I my lord that get the victory,
And therfore grieve not at your overthrow,
Since I shall render all into your hands.
And ad more strength to your dominions
Than ever yet confirm'd th'Egyptian Crown.
The God of war resignes his roume to me,
Meaning to make me Generall of the world,
Jove viewing me in armes, lookes pale and wan,
Fearing my power should pull him from his throne.
Where ere I come the fatall sisters sweat,
And griesly death, by running to and fro,
To doo their ceassles homag to my sword:
And here in Affrick where it seldom raines,
Since I arriv'd with my triumphant hoste,
Have swelling cloudes drawen from wide gasping woundes,
Bene oft resolv'd in bloody purple showers,
A meteor that might terrify the earth,
And make it quake at every drop it drinks:
Millions of soules sit on the bankes of Styx,
Waiting the back returne of Charons boat,
Hell and Elisian swarme 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 sight of strange import,
Emperours and kings lie breathlesse at my feet.
The Turk and his great Emperesse as it seems,
Left to themselves while we were at the fight,
Have desperatly dispatcht their slavish lives:
With them Arabia too hath left his life,
Al sights of power to grace my victory:
And such are objects fit for Tamburlaine.
Wherein as in a mirrour may be seene,
His honor, that consists in sheading blood,
When men presume to manage armes with him.
Mighty hath God and Mahomet made thy hand
(Renowmed Tamburlain) to whom all kings
Of force must yeeld their crownes and Emperies:
And I am pleasde with this my overthrow,
If as beseemes a person of thy state,
Thou hast with honor usde Zenocrate.
Her state and person wants no pomp you see,
And for all blot of foule inchastity,
I record heaven, her heavenly selfe is cleare:
Then let me find no further time tograce
Her princely Temples with the Persean crowne:
But here these kings that on my fortunes wait,
And have bene crown'd for prooved worthynesse:
Even by this hand that shall establish them,
Shal now, adjoining al their hands with mine,
Invest her here my Queene of Persea.
What saith the noble Souldane and Zenocrate?
I yeeld with thanks and protestations
Of endlesse honor to thee for her love.
Then doubt I not but faire Zenocrate
Will soone consent to satisfy us both.
Els should I much forget my self, my Lord.
Then let us set the crowne upon her head,
That long hath lingred for so high a seat.
Myhand is ready to performe the deed,
For now her mariage time shall worke us rest.
And here's the crown my Lord, help set it on.
Then sit thou downe divine Zenocrate,
And here we crowne thee Queene of Persea,
And all the kingdomes and dominions
That late the power of Tamburlaine subdewed:
As Juno, when the Giants were supprest,
That darted mountaines at her brother Jove:
So lookes my Love, shadowing in her browes
Triumphes and Trophees for my victories:
Or as Latonas daughter bent to armes,
Adding more courage to my conquering mind.
To gratify the sweet Zenocrate,
Egyptians, Moores and men o Asia,
From Barbary unto the Westerne Inde,
Shall pay a yearly tribute to thy Syre.
And from the boundes of Affrick to the banks
Of Ganges, shall his mighty arme extend.
And now my Lords and loving followers,
That purchac'd kingdomes by your martiall deeds,
Cast off your armor, put on scarlet roabes.
Mount up your royall places of estate,
Environed with troopes of noble men,
And there make lawes to rule your provinces:
Hang up your weapons on Alcides poste,
For Tamburlaine takes truce with al the world.
Thy first betrothed Love, Arabia,
Shall we with honor (as beseemes) entombe,
With this great Turke and his faire Emperesse:
Then after all these solemne Exequies,
We wil our celebrated rites of mariage solemnize.