Baj. Ye holy priests of heavenly Mahmet, That, sacrificing, slice and cut your flesh, Staining his altars with your purple blood; Make Heaven to frown and every fixed star To suck up poison from the moorish fens, And pour it in this glorious tyrant's throat! Tamb. The chiefest god, first mover of that sphere,

Enchased with thousands ever-shining lamps, Will sooner burn the glorious frame of Heaven,

Than it should so conspire my overthrow. But villain! thou that wishest this to me, Fall prostrate on the low disdainful earth, And be the footstool of great Tamburlaine, That I may rise into my royal throne.

Baj. First shalt thou rip my bowels with
thy sword,

And sacrifice my soul to death and hell,
Before I yield to such a slavery.

Tamb. Base villain, vassal, slave to Tam-
burlaine !

Unworthy to embrace or touch the ground, That bears the honour of my royal weight; Stoop, villain, stoop!-Stoop! for so he bids That may command thee piecemeal to be torn,

Or scattered like the lofty cedar trees Struck with the voice of thundering Jupiter. Baj. When as I look down to the damned fiends,

Fiends look on me; and thou dread god of hell

With ebon sceptre strike this hateful earth, And make it swallow both of us at once. [Tamburlaine gets up on him to his chair.

Tamb. Now clear the triple region of the air,

And let the Majesty of Heaven behold
Their scourge and terror tread on emperors.
Smile stars, that reigned at my nativity,
And dim the brightness of your neighbour
lamps !

Disdain to borrow light of Cynthia !
For I, the chiefest lamp of all the earth,
First rising in the East with mild aspect,
But fixed now in the Meridian line,
Will send up fire to your turning spheres,
And cause the sun to borrow light of you.
My sword struck fire from his coat of steel
Even in Bithynia, when I took this Turk;
As when a fiery exhalation,

Wrapt in the bowels of a freezing cloud Fighting for passage, makes the welkin crack,

And casts a flash of lightning to the earth:
But ere I march to wealthy Persia,
Or leave Damascus and the Egyptian fields,

او

As was the fame of Clymene's brain-sick son,
That almost brent the axle-tree of heaven,
So shall our swords, our lances, and our shot
Fill all the air with fiery meteors:
Then when the sky shall wax as red as blood
It shall be said I made it red myself,
To make me think of nought but blood and

war.

Zab. Unworthy king, that by thy cruelty Unlawfully usurp st the Persian seat, Dar'st thou that never saw an emperor, Before thou met my husband in the field, Being thy captive, thus abuse his state, Keeping his kingly body in a cage, That roofs of gold and sun-bright palaces Should have prepared to entertain his grace? And treading him beneath thy loathsome feet,

Whose feet the kings of Africa have kissed. Tech. You must devise some torment worse, my lord,

To make these captives rein their lavish tongues.

Tamb. Zenocrate, look better to your slave.

Zeno. She is my handmaid's slave, and she shall look

That these abuses flow not from her tongue: Chide her, Anippe.

Anip. Let these be warnings for you then, my slave,

How you abuse the person of the king; Or else I swear to have you whipt, starknaked.

Baj. Great Tamburlaine, great in my overthrow,

Ambitious pride shall make thee fall as low, For treading on the back of Bajazet,

That should be horsed on four mighty kings. Tamb. Thy names, and titles, and thy dignities

Are fled from Bajazet and remain with me, That will maintain it 'gainst a world of kings.

Put him in again.

[They put him into the cage. Baj. Is this a place for mighty Bajazet? Confusion light on him that helps thee thus!

Tamb. There, while he lives, shall Baja

zet be kept;

And, where I go, be thus in triumph drawn; And thou, his wife, shalt feed him with the scraps

My servitors shall bring thee from my board;
For he that gives him other food than this,
Shall sit by him and starve to death himself;
This is my mind and I will have it so.
Not all the kings and emperors of the earth,

C 2

If they would lay their crowns before my feet,

Shall ransom him, or take him from his cage.

The ages that shall talk of Tamburlaine, Even from this day to Plato's wondrous year,

Shall talk how I have handled Bajazet;
These Moors, that drew him from Bithynia,
To fair Damascus, where we now remain,
Shall lead him with us wheresoe'er we go.
Techelles, and my loving followers,
Now may we see Damascus' lofty towers,
Like to the shadows of Pyramides,

That with their beauties grace the Memphian fields:

The golden statue of their feathered bird That spreads her wings upon the city's walls Shall not defend it from our battering shot: The townsmen mask in silk and cloth of gold,

And every house is as a treasury:

The scum of men, the hate and scourge
God,

Raves in Ægyptia and annoyeth us.
My lord, it is the bloody Tamburlaine,
A sturdy felon and a base-bred thief,
By murder raised to the Persian crown,
That dares control us in our territories.
To tame the pride of this presumptu
beast,

Join your Arabians with the Soldan's powe
Let us unite our royal bands in one,
And hasten to remove Damascus' siege.
It is a blemish to the majesty
And high estate of mighty emperors,
That such a base usurping vagabond
Should brave a king, or wear a prince

crown.

Arab. Renowned Soldan, have ye lat heard

The overthrow of mighty Bajazet
About the confines of Bithynia?
The slavery wherewith he persecutes

ours.

Ther. Your tents of white now pitched

before the gates,

And gentle flags of amity displayed,
I doubt not but the governor will yield,
Offering Damascus to your majesty.
Tamb. So shall he have his life and all
the rest:

But if he stay until the bloody flag
Be once advanced on my vermilion tent,
He dies, and those that kept us out so long.
And when they see us march in black array,
With mournful streamers hanging down their
heads,

Were in that city all the world contained, Not one should scape, but perish by our swords.

Zeno. Yet would you have some pity for my sake,

Because it is my country, and my father's. Tamb. Not for the world, Zenocrate; I've

Sold. I have, and sorrow for his bad s cess;

But noble lord of great Arabia,

Be so persuaded that the Soldan is
No more dismayed with tidings of his fal
Than in the haven when the pilot stands,
And views a stranger's ship rent in the win
And shivered against a craggy rock;
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,
hour,

Wherein he wrought such ignomini wrong

Unto the hallowed person of a prince,
Or kept the fair Zenocrate so long
As concubine, I fear, to feed his lust.

Arab. Let grief and fury hasten on
venge;

Let Tamburlaine for his offences feel Such plagues as we and heaven can pow him.

I long to break my spear upon his crest And prove the weight of his victorious For Fame, I fear, hath been too prodig In sounding through the world his pa praise.

Sold. Capolin, hast thou surveyed powers?

Capol. Great emperors of Egypt
Arabia,

The number of your hosts united is
A hundred and fifty thousand horse;
Two hundred thousand foot, brave me

arms,

3

The Banquet; and to it come Tamburlaine,
all in scarlet, Theridamas, Techelles,
Usumcasane, Bajazet [in his cage],
Zabina, and others.

Tamb. Now hang our bloody colours by
Damascus,

Reflexing hues of blood upon their heads,
While they walk quivering on their city walls,
Half dead for fear before they feel my wrath,
Then let us freely banquet and carouse
Full bowls of wine unto the god of war
That means to fill your helmets full of gold,
And make Damascus' spoils as rich to you,
As was to Jason Colchos' golden fleece.
And now, Bajazet, hast thou any stomach?

Baj. Aye, such a stomach, cruel Tamberlaine, as I could willingly feed upon thy blood-raw heart.

Tamb. Nay thine own is easier to come by; pluck out that; and 'twill serve thee and thy wife: Well, Zenocrate, Techelles, and the rest, fall to your victuals.

Baj. Fall to, and never may your meat digest!

Ye furies, that can mask invisible,
Dive to the bottom of Avernus' pool,
And in your hands bring hellish poison up
And squeeze it in the cup of Tamburlaine!
Or, winged snakes of Lerna, cast your stings,
And leave your venoms in this tyrant's dish!
Zab. And may this banquet prove as omi-

nous

As Progne's to the adulterous Thracian king, That fed upon the substance of his child.

Zeno. My lord,-how can you suffer these Outrageous curses by these slaves of yours? Tamb. To let them see, divine Zenocrate, I glory in the curses of my foes, Having the power from the enpyreal heaven

To turn them all upon their proper heads. Tech. I pray you give them leave, madam; this speech is a goodly refreshing to them.

Ther. But if his highness would let them be fed, it would do them more good.

Tamb. Sirrah, why fall you not to?—are you so daintily brought up, you cannot eat your own flesh?

Baj. First, legions of devils shall tear thee in pieces.

Usum. Villain, know'st thou to whom thou speakest?

Tamb. O, let him alone. Here; eat sir; take it from my sword's point, or I'll thrust it to thy heart.

[Bajazet takes it and stamps upon it. Ther. He stamps it under his feet, my lord.

Tamb. Take it up, villain, and eat it; or I will make thee slice the brawns of thy arms into carbonades and eat them.

Usum. Nay, 'twere better he killed his wife, and then he shall be sure not to be starved, and he be provided for a month's victual beforehand.

Tamb. Here is my dagger: despatch her while she is fat, for if she live but a while longer, she will fall into a consumption with fretting, and then she will not be worth the eating.

Ther. Dost thou think that Mahomet will suffer this?

Tech. 'Tis like he will when he cannot let it.

Tamb. Go to; fall to your meat.-What, not a bit! Belike he hath not been watered to-day; give him some drink.

[They give him water to drink, and he

flings it on the ground.

Tamb. Fast, and welcome, sir, while hunger make you eat. How now, Zenocrate, do not the Turk and his wife make a goodly show at a banquet ?

Zeno. Yes, my lord.

Ther. Methinks 'tis a great deal better than a consort of musick.

Tamb. Yet musick would do well to cheer up Zenocrate. Pray thee, tell, why thou art so sad?-If thou wilt have a song, the Turk shall strain his voice. But why is it?

Zeno. My lord, to see my father's town besieged,

The country wasted where myself was born,
How can it but afflict my very soul?
If any love remain in you, my lord,
Or if my love unto your majesty
May merit favour at your highness' hands,

Then raise your siege from fair Damascus' walls,

And with my father take a friendly truce. Tamb. Zenocrate, were Egypt Jove's own land,

Yet would I with my sword make Jove to stoop.

I will confute those blind geographers
That make a triple region in the world,
Excluding regions which I mean to trace,
And with this pen reduce them to a map,
[Pointing to his sword.
Calling the provinces cities and towns,
After my name and thine, Zenocrate.
Here at Damascus will I make the point
That shall begin the perpendicular;
And would'st thou have me buy thy father's
love

With such a loss ?-Tell me, Zenocrate.

Zeno. Honour still wait on happy Tamburlaine;

Yet give me leave to plead for him my lord. Tamb. Content thyself: his person shall

be safe

And all the friends of fair Zenocrate,

If with their lives they may be pleased to yield,

Or may be forced to make me emperor;
For Egypt and Arabia must be mine.-
Feed you slave; thou may'st think thyself
happy to be fed from my trencher.

Baj. My empty stomach, full of idle heat,
Draws bloody humours from my feeble parts,
Preserving life by hastening cruel death.
My veins are pale; my sinews hard and dry;
My joints benumbed; unless I eat, I die.

Zab. Eat, Bajazet: and let us live In spite of them,-looking some happy power Will pity and enlarge us.

Tamb. Here, Turk; wilt thou have a clean trencher?

Baj. Aye, tyrant, and more meat. Tamb. Soft, sir; you must be dieted; too much eating will make you surfeit.

Ther. So it would, my lord, especially having so small a walk and so little exercise. [A second course is brought in of crowns. Tamb. Theridamas, Techelles, and Casane, here are the cates you desire to finger, are they not?

Ther. Aye my lord: but none save kings must feed with these.

Tech. 'Tis enough for us to see them, and for Tamburlaine only to enjoy them.

Tamb. Well; here is now to the Soldan of Egypt, the King of Arabia, and the Governor of Damascus. Now take these three crowns, and pledge me, my contributory kings. I crown you here Theridamas, King

of Argier; Techelles, King of Fez; and Usumcasane, King of Morocco. How say you to this, Turk? These are not your contributory kings.

Baj. Nor shall they long be thine, I warrant them.

Tamb. Kings of Argier, Morocco, and of
Fez,

You that have marched with happy Tamburlaine

As far as from the frozen plage of heaven,
Unto the watery morning's ruddy bower,
And thence by land unto the torrid zone,
Deserve these titles I endow you with,
By valour and by magnanimity.
Your births shall be no blemish to your fame,
For virtue is the fount whence honour springs,
And they are worthy she investeth kings.

Ther. And since your highness hath so
well vouchsafed;

If we deserve them not with higher meeds Than erst our states and actions have retained

Take them away again and make us slaves. Tamb. Well said, Theridamas; when holy fates

Shall stablish me in strong Ægyptia,
We mean to travel to the antarctick pole,
Conquering the people underneath our feet,
And be renowned as never emperors were.
Zenocrate, I will not crown thee yet,
Until with greater honours I be graced.

ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I.

[Exeunt.

Enter the Governor of Damascus, with three

or four Citizens, and four Virgins, with branches of laurel in their hands. Gov. Still doth this man, or rather god of

war,

Batter our walls and beat our turrets down;
And to resist with longer stubbornness,
Or hope of rescue from the Soldan's power,
Were but to bring our wilful overthrow,
And make us desperate of our threatened

lives.

We see his tents have now been altered
With terrors to the last and cruellest hue.
His coal-black colours every where advanced,
Threaten our city with a general spoil;
And if we should with common rites of arms
Offer our safeties to his clemency,
I fear the custom, proper to his sword,
Which he observes as parcel of his fame,
Intending so to terrify the world,
By any innovation or remorse

Some made your wives, and some your children)

Might have entreated your obdurate breasts
To entertain some care of our securities
While only danger beat upon our walls,
These more than dangerous warrants of
our death

Had never been erected as they be,
Nor you depend on such weak helps as we.
Gov. Well, lovely virgins, think our
country's care,

Our love of honour, loath to be inthralled To foreign powers and rough imperious yokes,

Would not with too much cowardice or fear,

(Before all hope of rescue were denied) Submit yourselves and us to servitude. Therefore in that your safeties and our own, Your honours, liberties, and lives were weighed

In equal care and balance with our own,
Endure as we the malice of our stars,
The wrath of Tamburlaine and power of

wars;

Or be the means the overweighing heavens Have kept to qualify these hot extremes, And bring us pardon in your cheerful looks. 2 Virg. Then here before the Majesty of Heaven

And holy patrons of Ægyptia,

With knees and hearts submissive we entreat
Grace to our words and pity to our looks
That this device may prove propitious,
And through the eyes and ears of Tambur-
laine

Convey events of mercy to his heart;

Grant that these signs of victory we yield May bind the temples of his conquering head,

To hide the folded furrows of his brows,
And shadow his displeased countenance
With happy looks of ruth and lenity.
Leave us, my lord, and loving countrymen ;
What simple virgins may persuade, we will.

Gov. Farewell, sweet virgins, on whose safe return

Depends our city, liberty, and lives. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Enter Tamburlaine, Techelles, Theridamas, Usumcasane, with others: Tamburlaine To all in black and very melancholy. them approach the Virgins of Damascus. Tamb. What, are the turtles frayed out of their nests?

Alas, poor fools! must you be first shall feel

The sworn destruction of Damascus ? They knew my custom; could they not as well

Have sent ye out, when first my milk-white flags,

Through which sweet mercy threw her gentle beams,

Reflexed them on your disdainful eyes,
As now, when fury and incensed hate
Flings slaughtering terror from my coal-
black tents,

And tells for truth submission comes too late?

1 Virg. Most happy king and emperor of the earth,

Image of honour and nobility,

For whom the powers divine have made the world,

And on whose throne the holy graces sit;
In whose sweet person is comprised the sum
Of nature's skill and heavenly majesty ;
Pity our plights! O pity poor Damascus !
Pity old age, within whose silver hairs
Honour and reverence evermore
reigned!

have

Pity the marriage bed, where many a lord, In prime and glory of his loving joy, Embraceth now with tears of ruth and blood

The jealous body of his fearful wife, Whose cheeks and hearts so punished with conceit,

To think thy puissant, never-stayed arm, Will part their bodies, and prevent their souls

From heavens of comfort yet their age might bear,

Now wax all pale and withered to the death, As well for grief our ruthless governor Hath thus refused the mercy of thy hand, (Whose sceptre angels kiss and furies dread,) As for their liberties, their loves, or lives! Oh then for these, and such as we our selves,

For us, our infants, and for all our bloods,