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To waste and spoil the sweet Aonian fields,
A monster of five hundred thousand heads,
Compact of rapine, piracy, and spoil.

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, a base-bred thief,

By murder raised to the Persian crown,
That dares controul us in our territories.
To tame the pride of this presumptuous beast,
Join your Arabians with the Soldan's

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 princely crown.

ARAB. Renowned Soldan, have ye lately heard

The overthrow of mighty Bajazet

About the confines of Bithynia?

The slavery wherewith he persecutes

The noble Turk and his great emperess?

SOLD. I have, and sorrow for his bad success;

But noble lord of great Arabia,

Be so persuaded that the Soldan is

No more dismay'd with tidings of his fall,
Than in the haven when the pilot stands,
And views a stranger's ship rent in the winds,
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 Isis' holy name,

That Tamburlaine shall rue the day, the hour,
Wherein he wrought such ignominious wrong
Unto the hallow'd 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 revenge;

Let Tamburlaine for his offences feel

Such plagues as we and Heaven can pour on him.
I long to break my spear upon his crest,
And prove the weight of his victorious arm;
For Fame, I fear, hath been too prodigal
In sounding through the world his partial praise.
SOLD. Capoline, hast thou survey'd our powers?
CAPOL. Great emperors of Egypt and Arabia,
The number of your hosts united is

A hundred and fifty thousand horse;

Two hundred thousand foot, brave men at arms,
Courageous, and full of hardiness,

As frolick as the hunters in the chase

Of savage beasts amid the desert woods.

ARAB. My mind presageth fortunate success;

And Tamburlaine, my spirit doth foresee

The utter ruin of thy men and thee.

SOLD. Then rear your standards; let your sound

ing drums

Direct our soldiers to Damascus' walls.

Now, Tamburlaine, the mighty Soldan comes,
And leads with him the great Arabian King,

To dim thy baseness and obscurity,

Famous for nothing but for theft and spoil;
To raze and scatter thy inglorious crew
Of Scythians and slavish Persians.



The Banquet; and to it come TAMBURLAINE, all in scarlet, THERIDAMAS, TECHELLES, USUMCASANE, BAJAZET, ZABINA, and others.

TAMB. Now hang our bloody colours by Damas


Reflexing hues of blood upon their heads,

While they walk quiv'ring 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 Tamburlaine,
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 walk invisible,

Dive to the bottom of Avernus' pool,

And in your hands bring hellish poison up

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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 ominous
As Progne's to th' adult'rous 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 imperial heaven
To turn them all upon their proper

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 kill'd his wife, and

then he shall be sure not to be starved, and 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.

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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 better than a consort of musick.


TAMB. Yet musick would do well to cheer up nocrate. 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 besieg'd, The country wasted where myself was born, How can it but afflict my very soul?

If any love remain in you, my lord,


• Until.


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