That never looked on man but Tamburlaine.

Zeno. My gracious lord, they have their mother's looks,

But, when they list, their conquering father's heart.

This lovely boy, the youngest of the three,
Not long ago bestrid a Scythian steed
Trotting the ring, and tilting at a glove,
Which, when he tainted with his slender rod,
He reined him straight and made him so
curvet,

As I cried out for fear he should have fallen.
Tamb. Well done, my boy, thou shalt
have shield and lance,
Armour of proof, horse, helm, and curtle

axe,

And I will teach thee how to charge thy foe, And harmless run among the deadly pikes. If thou wilt love the wars and follow me, Thou shalt be made a king and reign with

me,

Keeping in iron cages emperors.

If thou exceed thy elder brothers' worth And shine in complete virtue more than they, Thou shalt be king before them, and thy seed

Shall issue crowned from their mother's womb.

For if his chair were in a sea of blood
I would prepare a ship and sail to it,
Ere I would lose the title of a king.

Amy. And I would strive to swim through pools of blood,

Or make a bridge of murdered carcases, Whose arches should be framed with bones of Turks,

Ere I would lose the title of a king. Tamb. Well, lovely boys, ye shall be emperors both,

live,

Have under me as many kings as you,
And march with such a multitude of men,
As all the world shall tremble at their view.
Tamb. These words assure me, boy,
thou art my son.

When I am old and cannot manage arms,
Be thou the scourge and terror of the world.
Amy. Why may not I my lord, as well as
he,

Be termed the scourge and terror of the world?

Tamb. Be all a scourge and terror to the world,

Or else you are not sons of Tamburlaine. Cal. But while my brothers follow arms, my lord,

Let me accompany my gracious mother;
They are enough to conquer all the world,
And you have won enough for me to keep.
Tamb. Bastardly boy, sprung from some
coward's loins,

And not the issue of great Tamburlaine;
Of all the provinces I have subdued,
Thou shalt not have a foot unless thou bear
A mind courageous and invincible :
For he shall wear the crown of Persia
Whose head hath deepest scars, whose
breast most wounds,

to West;

And, sirrah, if you mean to wear a crown, When we shall meet the Turkish deputy And all his viceroys, snatch it from his head And cleave his pericranium with thy sword." Cal. If any man will hold him, I w strike

And cleave him to the channel with my sword.

Tamb. Hold him, and cleave him too. or I'll cleave thee,

For we will march against them presently. Theridamas, Techelles, and Casane Promised to meet me on Larissa plains With hosts apiece against this Turkish

crew;

For I have sworn by sacred Mahomet
To make it parcel of my empery;
The trumpets sound, Zenocrate; they com
Enter Theridamas, and his train, with
Drums and Trumpets.

Tamb. Welcome, Theridamas, king
Argier.

Ther. My lord, the great and might Tamburlaine,

Arch-monarch of the world, I offer here My crown, myself, and all the power I hat In all affection at thy kingly feet.

Tamb. Thanks, good Theridamas.
Ther. Under my colours march ten thou-
sand Greeks;

| And of Argier's and Afric's frontier towns
Twice twenty thousand valiant men at arms,
All which have sworn to sack Natolia.
Five hundred brigantines are under sail,
Meet for your service on the sea, my lord,
That launching from Argier to Tripoli,
Will quickly ride before Natolia,

And batter down the castles on the shore. Tamb. Well said, Argier; receive thy crown again.

Enter Techelles and Usumcasane, together. Tamb. Kings of Morocco and of Fez, welcome.

Usum. Magnificent and peerless Tamburlaine !

I and my neighbour king of Fez have brought

To aid thee in this Turkish expedition,
A hundred thousand expert soldiers:
From Azamor to Tunis near the sea
Is Barbary unpeopled for thy sake,
And all the men in armour under me,
Which with my crown I gladly offer thee.
Tamb. Thanks, king of Morocco,
your crown again.
Tech. And, mighty Tamburlaine, our
earthly god,

take

Whose looks make this inferior world to quake,

I here present thee with the crown of Fez, And with an host of Moors trained to the

war,

Whose coal-black faces make their foes retire,

And quake for fear, as if infernal Jove
Meaning to aid thee in these Turkish arms,
Should pierce the black circumference of
hell

With ugly Furies bearing fiery flags,
And millions of his strong tormenting spirits;
From strong Tesella unto Biledull
All Barbary is unpeopled for thy sake.

Tamb. Thanks, king of Fez; take here
thy crown again.

Your presence, loving friends, and fellow kings,

Makes me to surfeit in conceiving joy.

If all the crystal gates of Jove's high court
Were opened wide, and I might enter in
To see the state and majesty of Heaven,
It could not more delight me than your
sight.

Now will we banquet on these plains awhile,

And after march to Turkey with our camp,

In number more than are the drops that fall, When Boreas rents a thousand swelling clouds;

And proud Orcanes of Natolia

With all his viceroys shall be so afraid, That though the stones, as at Deucalion's flood,

Were turned to men, he should be over

come.

Such lavish will I make of Turkish blood,
That Jove shall send his winged messenger
To bid me sheathe my sword and leave the
field;

Shall hide his head in Thetis' watery lap,
The sun unable to sustain the sight,
And leave his steeds to fair Böötes' charge;
For half the world shall perish in this fight.
But now, my friends, let me examine ye;
How have ye spent your absent time from
me?

Usum. My lord, our men of Barbary have
marched

Four hundred miles with armour on their backs,

And lain in leaguer fifteen months and more;
For since we left you at the Soldan's court,
We have subdued the southern Guallatia,
And all the land unto the coasts of Spain,
We kept the narrow Strait of Jubalter,
And made Canaria call us kings and lords;
Yet never did they recreate themselves,
Or cease one day from war and hot alarms,
And therefore let them rest awhile, my
lord.

Tamb. They shall, Casane, and 'tis time
i'faith.

Tech. And I have marched along the river
Nile

To Machda, where the mighty Christian priest,

Called John the Great, sits in a milk-white robe,

Whose triple mitre I did take by force,
And made him swear obedience to my crown,
From thence unto Cazates did I march,
Where Amazonians met me in the field,
With whom, being women, I vouchsafed a
league,

And with iny power did march to Zanzibar,
The eastern part of Afric, where I viewed
The Ethiopian sea, rivers and lakes,

But neither man nor child in all the land;
Therefore I took my course to Manico,
Where unresisted, I removed my camp;
And by the coast of Byather, at last
I came to Cubar, where the Negroes dwell,
And conquering that, made haste to Nubia
There, having sacked Borno the kingly seat,
I took the king and led him bound in chains

Confirmed by oath and articles of peace, And calling Christ for record of our truths? This should be treachery and violence Against the grace of our profession.

Bald. No whit, my lord, for with such infidels,

In whom no faith nor true religion rests, We are not bound to those accomplishments,

The holy laws of Christendom enjoin; But as the faith, which they profanely plight,

Is not by necessary policy

To be esteemed assurance for ourselves,
So that we vow to them, should not infringe
Our liberty of arms or victory.

Sig. Though I confess the oaths they undertake

Breed little strength to our security,
Yet those infirmities that thus defame
Their faiths, their honours, and religion,
Should not give us presumption to the like.
Our faiths are sound, and must be con-

summate,

Religious, righteous, and inviolate.

Fred. Assure your grace 'tis superstition To stand so strictly on dispensive faith; And should we lose the opportunity That God hath given to avenge our Christians' death,

And scourge their foul blasphemous Paganism,

As fell to Saul, to Balaam, and the rest, That would not kill and curse at God's command,

So surely will the vengeance of the Highest,
And jealous anger of his fearful arm,
Be poured with rigour on our sinful heads,
If we neglect this offered victory.

Sig. Then arm, my lords, and issue suddenly,

Giving commandment to our general host,
With expedition to assail the Pagan,
And take the victory our God hath given.
[Exeunt

SCENE II.

Enter Orcanes, Gazellus, and Uribassa, with their Trains.

Orc. Gazellus, Uribassa, and the rest, Now will we march from proud Orminius'

mount,

To fair Natolia, where our neighbour kings Expect our power and our royal presence, To encounter with the cruel Tamburlaine, That nigh Larissa sways a mighty host, And, with the thunder of his martial tools, Makes earthquakes in the hearts of men and heaven.

Gaz. And now come we to make his sinews shake,

With greater power than erst his pride hath felt.

An hundred kings, by scores, will bid him

arms,

An hundred thousand subjects to each score,
Which, if a shower of wounding thunderbolts
Should break out of the bowels of the clouds,
And fall as thick as hail upon our heads,
In partial aid of that proud Scythian,
Yet should our courages and steeled crests,
And numbers, more than infinite, of men,
Be able to withstand and conquer him.

Uri. Methinks I see how glad the Chris-
tian king

Is made, for joy of your admitted truce,
That could not but before be terrified

With unacquainted power of our host.
Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Arm, dread sovereign, and my
noble lords!

The treacherous army of the Christians,
Taking advantage of your slender power,
Comes marching on us, and determines
straight

To bid us battle for our dearest lives.

Ore. Traitors! villains! damned Chris-
tians!

Have I not here the articles of peace,
And solemn covenants we've both confirmed,
He by his Christ, and I by Mahomet?

Gaz. Hell and confusion light upon their
heads,

That with such treason seek our overthrow, And care so little for their prophet, Christ! Ore. Can there be such deceit in Christians,

Or treason in the fleshly heart of man, Whose shape is figure of the highest God! Then, if there be a Christ, as Christians say, But in their deeds deny him for their Christ, If he be son to everliving Jove,

And hath the power of his outstretched arm;!

If he be jealous of his name and honour,
As is our holy prophet, Mahomet ;-
Take here these papers as our sacrifice
And witness of thy servant's perjury.

[He tears to pieces the articles of peace Open, thou shining veil of Cynthia, And make a passage from the empyreal heaven,

That he that sits on high and never sleeps,
Nor in one place is circumscriptible,
But everywhere fills every continent
With strange infusion of his sacred vigour,
May in his endless power and purity,
Behold and 'venge this traitor's perjury!
Thou Christ, that art esteemed omnipotent,
If thou wilt prove thyself a perfect God,
Worthy the worship of all faithful hearts,
Be now revenged upon this traitor's soul,
And make the power I have left behind,
(Too little to defend our guiltless lives),
Sufficient to discomfit and confound
The trustless force of those false Christians.
To arms, my lords! On Christ still let us
cry!

If there be Christ, we shall have victory.

SCENE III.

Alarums of battle.-Enter Sigismund, wounded.

Sig. Discomfited is all the Christian host, And God hath thundered vengeance from on high,

For my accursed and hateful perjury
O, just and dreadful punisher of sin,
Let the dishonour of the pains I feel,
In this my mortal well-deservèd wound,
End all my penance in my sudden death!
And let this death, wherein to sin I die,
Conceive a second life in endless mercy!
[He dies.

Enter Orcanes, Gazellus, Uribassa, and others.

Orc. Now lie the Christians bathing in their bloods,

And Christ or Mahomet hath been my friend. Gaz. See here the perjured traitor, Hungary,

Bloody and breathless for his villainy.

Orc. Now shall his barbarous body be a prey

To beasts and fowls, and all the winds shall breathe

Through shady leaves of every senseless tree, Murmurs and hisses for his heinous sin. Now scalds his soul in the Tartarian streams, And feeds upon the baneful tree of hell, That Zoacum, that fruit of bitterness,

That in the midst of fire is ingraffed,
Yet flourishes as Flora in her pride,
With apples like the heads of damned fiends.
The devils there, in chains of quenchless
flame,

Shall lead his soul through Orcus' burning gulph,

From pain to pain, whose change shall never end.

What say'st thou yet, Gazellus, to his foil Which we referred to justice of his Christ, And to his power, which here appears as full As rays of Cynthia to the clearest sight? Gaz. 'Tis but the fortune of the wars, my lord,

Whose power is often proved a miracle.
Orc. Yet in my thoughts shall Christ be
honoured,

Not doing Mahomet an injury,
Whose power had share in this our victory;
And since this miscreant hath disgraced his
faith,

And died a traitor both to heaven and earth, We will, both watch and ward shall keep his trunk

Amidst these plains for fowls to prey upon. Go, Uribassa, give it straight in charge. Uri. I will, my lord.

Exit.

Orc. And now, Gazellus, let us haste and

Tamb. Black is the beauty of the brightest day;

The golden ball of Heaven's eternal fire,
That danced with glory on the silver waves,
Now wants the fuel that inflamed his beams;
And all with faintness, and for foul disgrace,
He binds his temples with a frowning
cloud,

Ready to darken earth with endless night.
Zenocrate, that gave him light and life,
Whose eyes shot fire from their ivory bowers,
And tempered every soul with lively heat,
Now by the malice of the angry skies,
Whose jealousy admits no second mate,
[raws in the comfort of her latest breath,
All dazzled with the hellish mists of death.

Now walk the angels on the walls of heaver
As sentinels to warn the immortal souls
To entertain divine Zenocrate.
Apollo, Cynthia, and the ceaseless lamps
That gently looked upon this loathsom
earth,

Shine downward now no more, but deck th heavens,

To entertain divine Zenocrate.
The crystal springs, whose taste illuminates
Refined eyes with an eternal sight,
Like tried silver, run through Paradise,
To entertain divine Zenocrate.
The cherubins and holy seraphins,
That sing and play before the King
Kings,

Use all their voices and their instruments
To entertain divine Zenocrate.

And in this sweet and curious harmony,
The God that tunes this music to our souls
Holds out his hand in highest majesty
To entertain divine Zenocrate.
Then let some holy trance convey mi
thoughts

Up to the palace of the empyreal heaven,
That this my life may be as short to me
As are the days of sweet Zenocrate.
Physicians, will no physic do her good?
Phys. My lord, your majesty shall soo
perceive:

And if she pass this fit, the worst is past. Tamb. Tell me, how fares my fair Zeno crate?

Zeno. I fare, my lord, as other empresses, That, when this frail and transitory flesh Hath sucked the measure of that vital air That feeds the body with his dated health, Wane with enforced and necessary change!

Tamb. May never such a change trans

In whose sweet being I repose my life, form my love, Whose heavenly presence, beautified with health,

Gives light to Phoebus and the fixed stars Whose absence makes the sun and moon

dark

As when, opposed in one diameter, Their spheres are mounted on the serpent's head,

Or else descended to his winding train. Live still, my love, and so conserve my life Or, dying, be the author of my death!

Zeno. Live still, my lord! Oh, let my sovereign live!

And sooner let the fiery element Dissolve and make your kingdom in the sky,

Than this base earth should shroud yet majesty: