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To waste and spoil the sweet Aonian fields,
The scum of men, the hate and scourge of God,
My lord, it is the bloody Tamburlaine,
By murder raised to the Persian crown,
Let us unite our royal bands in one,
And hasten to remove Damascus' siege.
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,
A sacred vow to Heaven and him I make,
That Tamburlaine shall rue the day, the hour,
Or kept the fair Zenocrate so long
ARAB. Let grief and fury hasten on revenge;
Let Tamburlaine for his offences feel
Such plagues as we and Heaven can pour on him.
A hundred and fifty thousand horse;
Two hundred thousand foot, brave men at arms,
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
Direct our soldiers to Damascus' walls.
Now, Tamburlaine, the mighty Soldan comes,
To dim thy baseness and obscurity,
Famous for nothing but for theft and spoil;
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,
BAJ. Aye, such a stomach, cruel Tamburlaine,
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
ZAB. And may this banquet prove as ominous
ZENO. My lord, how can you suffer these
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.
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,