Can never wash from thy distained brows!
Here, Jove, receive his fainting soul again;
A form not meet to give that subject essence
Whose matter is the flesh of Tamburlaine;
Wherein an incorporeal spirit moves,
Made of the mould whereof thyself consists,
Which makes me valiant, proud, ambitious,
Ready to levy pow'r against thy throne.
That I might move the turning spheres of heav'n!
For earth and all this airy region
Cannot contain the state of Tamburlaine.
By Mahomet! thy mighty friend, I swear,
In sending to my issue such a soul,
Created of the massy dregs of earth,
The scum and tartar of the elements,
Wherein was neither courage, strength, or wit,
But folly, sloth, and damned idleness,
Thou hast procur'd a greater enemy
Than he that darted mountains at thy head,
Shaking the burthen mighty Atlas bears;
Whereat thou trembling hid'st thee in the air,
Cloth'd with a pitchy cloud for being seen:
And now, ye canker'd curs of Asia,
That will not see the strength of Tamburlaine,
Although it shine as brightly as the sun;
Now you shall see the strength of Tamburlaine,
* for being seen—that thou mayest not be seen. ser's Mother Hubberd's Tale.
And, by the state of his supremacy, [Stabs Caly
phas. Approve the diff'rence 'twixt himself and
you. Orc. Thou show'st the diff'rence 'twixt ourselves
and thee,
In this thy barbarous damned tyranny.
JER. Thy victories are grown so violent,
That shortly heaven, fill'd with the meteors
Of blood and fire thy tyrannies made,
Will
pour
down blood and fire on thy head, Whose scalding drops will pierce thy seething brains, And, with our bloods, revenge our blood on thee.
Tamb. Villains ! these terrors and these tyrannies, (If tyrannies, wars' justice ye repute) I execute, enjoin'd' me from above, To scourge the pride of such as heav'n abhors; Nor am I made arch-monarch of the world, Crown'd and invested by the hand of Jove For deeds of bounty and nobility; But since I exercise a greater name, The scourge of God, and terror of the world, I must apply myself to fit those terms, In war, in blood, in death, in cruelty, And plague such peasants as resisting me, [Resist] the pow'r of Heav'n's eternal majesty. Theridamas, Techelles, and Usumcasane, Ransack the tents and the pavilions Of these proud Turks, and take their concubines, Making them bury this effeminate brat, For not a common soldier shall defile
His manly fingers with so faint a boy.
Then bring those Turkish harlots to my tent,
And I'll dispose them as it likes me best;
Meanwhile, take him in.
SOLD. We will, my lord.
JER. O damned monster! Nay, a fiend of hell,
Whose cruelties are not so harsh as thine,
Nor yet impos'd with such a bitter hate!
ORC. Revenge it, Rhadamanth and Æacus,
And let your hates, extended in his pains,
Expel the hate wherewith he pains our souls.
TREB. May never day give virtue to his eyes,
Whose sight, compos'd of fury and of fire,
Doth send such stern affections to his heart.
SYR. May never spirit, vein, or artier, feed
The cursed substance of that cruel heart!
But, wanting moisture and remorseful blood,
Dry up with anger, and consume with heat.
TAMB. Well, bark, ye dogs; I'll bridle all your
And bind them close with bits of burnish'd steel,
Down to the channels of your hateful throats;
And, with the pains my rigour shall inflict,
I'll make ye roar, that earth may echo forth
The far-resounding torments ye sustain :
As when an herd of lusty Cymbrian bulls
Run mourning round about, the females miss,
And stung with fury of their following,
Fill all the air with troublous bellowing;
I will, with engines never exercis'd,
Conquer, sack, and utterly consume
Your cities and your golden palaces,
And, with the flames that beat against the clouds,
Incense the Heavens, and make the stars to melt,
As if they were the tears of Mahomet,
For hot consumption of his country's pride;
And, till by vision or by speech I hear
Immortal Jove say “cease, my Tamburlaine,"
I will persist, a terror to the world,
Making the meteors (that, like armed men,
Are seen to march upon the tow’rs of Heav'n)
Run tilting round about the firmament,
And break their burning lances in the air,
For honour of my wond'rous victories.
Come, bring them in to our pavilion. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
OLYMPIA discovered alone.
Olym. Distress'd Olympia, whose weeping eyes,
Since thy arrival here beheld no sun,
But clos'd within the compass of the tent,
Have stain'd thy cheeks, and made thee look like
death,
Devise some means to rid thee of thy life,
Rather than yield to his detested suit,
Whose drift is only to dishonour thee;
And since this earth, dew'd with thy brinish tears
Affords no herbs, whose taste may poison thee,
Nor yet this air, beat often with thy sighs,
Contagious smells and vapours to infect thee,
Nor thy close cave a sword to murder thee;
Let this invention be the instrument.
THER. Well met, Olympia; I sought thee in my
But when I saw the place obscure and dark,
Which with thy beauty thou wast wont to light;
Enrag'd, I ran about the fields for thee,
Supposing am'rous love had sent his son,
The winged Hermes, to convey thee hence;
But now I find thee, and that fear is past.
Tell me, Olympia, wilt thou grant my suit?
OLYм. My lord and husband's death, with my
sweet son's,
(With whom I buried all affections
Save grief and sorrow, which torment my heart)
Forbid my mind to entertain a thought
That tends to love, but meditate on death,
A fitter subject for a pensive soul.
THER. Olympia, pity him, in whom thy looks
Have greater operation and more force
Than Cynthia's in the wat'ry wilderness,
For with thy view my joys are at the full,
And ebb again as thou departest from me.
OLYM. Ah, pity me, my lord! and draw your sword,
Making a passage for my troubled soul,
Which beats against this prison to get out,
And meet my husband and my loving son.
THER. Nothing but still thy husband and thy son!
|