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Where shaking ghosts with ever-howling. groans

Hover about the ugly ferryman,

To get a passage to Elysium!

Why should we live? O, wretches, beggars, slaves!

Why live we, Bajazet, and build up nests

So high within the region of the air

By living long in this oppression,

That all the world will see and laugh to scorn

The former triumphs of our mightiness

In this obscure infernal servitude?

Ba J. O life, more loathsome to my vexed thoughts Than noisome parbreak of the Stygian snakes, Which fill the nooks of hell with standing air, Infecting all the ghosts with cureless griefs! O dreary engines of my loathed sight That see my crown, my honour, and my name Thrust under yoke and thraldom of a thief, Why feed ye still on day's accursed beams And sink not quite into my tortured soul? You see my wife, my queen, and emperess, Brought up and propped by the hand of fame, Queen of fifteen contributory queens, Now thrown to rooms of black abjection, Smeared with blots of basest drudgery And villainess to shame, disdain, and misery. Accursed Bajazet, whose words of ruth, (That would with pity cheer Zabina's heart, And make our souls resolve in ceaseless tears;) Sharp hunger bites upon, and gripes the root, From whence the issues of my thoughts do break;

0 poor Zabi a! O my queen! my queen!
Fetch me some water for my burning breast,
To cool and comfort me with longer date,
That in the shorten'd sequel of my life

1 may pour forth my soul into thine arms
With words of love, whose moaning intercourse
Hath hitherto been stayed with wrath and hate,
Of our expressless hard * inflictions.

Zab. Sweet Bajazet! I will prolong thy life,
As long as any blood or spark of breath
Can quench or cool the torments of my grief.

[She goes out.

Baj. Now, Bajazet, abridge thy baneful days,
And beat the brains out of thy conquer'd head,
Since other means are all forbidden me,
That may be ministers of my decay.
O, highest lamp of ever-living Jove,
Accursed day ! infected with my griefs,
Hide now thy stained face in endless night,
And shut the windows of the lightsome Heavens!
Let ugly darkness with her rusty coach,
Engirt with tempests, wrapt in pitchy clouds,
Smother the earth with never-fading mists!
And let her horses from their nostrils breathe
Rebellious winds and dreadful thunder-claps!
That in this terror Tamburlaine may live,
And my pin'd soul, resolv'd in liquid air,
May still excruciate his tormented thoughts!
Then let the stony dart of senseless cold

band, in both the 8vo. and 4to.

Pierce through the centre of my wither'd heart,
And make a passage for my loathed life!

[He brains himself against the cage.
Enter Zabina.

Zab. What do mine eyes behold? my husband


His skull all riv'n in twain! his brains dash'd out,
The brains of Bajazet, my lord and sovereign:
O, Bajazet, my husband and my lord!
O Bajazet! O Turk! O Emperor!
Give him his liquor? not I. Bring milk and fire, and
my blood I bring him again.—Tear me in pieces, and
give me the sword with a ball of wild-fire upon it.
Down with him! Down with him!—Go to, my child!
Away! Away! Away!—Ah, save that infant! save
him, save him!—I, even I, speak to her,—the sun
was down.—Streamers white, red, black—here, here,
here!—Fling the meat in his face, Tamburlaine.—
Tamburlaine!—Let the soldiers be cursed.—Hell!
Death, Tamburlaine, Hell!—Make ready my coach,*
my chair, my jewels.—I come! I come! I come!

[She runs against the cage and brains herself.
Enttr Zenocrate with Anippe. Wretched Zenocrate ! that liv'st to see
Damascus' walls dy'd with Egyptian blood,
Thy father's subjects and thy countrymen;
Thy streets strewed with dissever'd joints of men
And wounded bodies gasping yet for life;
But most accurst, to see the sun-bright troop
Of heav'nly virgins and unspotted maids,

(Whose looks might make the angry god of arms

To break his sword and mildly treat of love)

On horsemen's lances to be hoisted up

And guiltlessly endure a cruel death:

For ev'ry fell and stout Tartarian steed,

That stampt on others with their thund'ring hoofs,

When all their riders charg'd their quiv'ring spears,

Began to check the ground and rein themselves.

Gazing upon the beauty of their looks.—

Oh, Tamburlaine! wert thou the cause of this

That term'st Zenocrate thy dearest love?

Whose lives were dearer to Zenocrate

Than her own life; or ought save thine own love.

But see another bloody spectacle!

Ah, wretched eyes, the en'mies of my heart,

How are ye glutted with these grievous objects,

And tell my soul more tales of bleeding ruth!

See, see, Anippe, if they breathe or no.

Anippe. No breath, nor sense, nor motion, in

them both;

Ah, madam ! this their slav'ry hath enforc'd,
And ruthless cruelty of Tamburlaine.

Zeno. Earth, cast up fountains from thy entrails,
And wet thy cheeks for their untimely deaths!
Shake with their weight in sign of fear and grief!
Blush, Heaven, that gave them honour at their birth
And let them die a death so barbarous!
Those that are proud of fickle empery
And place their chiefest good in earthly pomp,
Behold the Turk and his great Emperess!

Vol. i. 6

Ah, Tamburlaine! my love! sweet Tamburlaine!
That fight'st for sceptres and for fickle crowns,
Behold the Turk and his great Emperess!
Thou, that in conduct of thy happy stars
Sleep'st every night with conquests on thy brows
And yet would'st shun the wav'ring turns of war,
In fear and feeling" of the like distress


Behold the Turk and his great Emperess!

Ah, mighty Jove and holy Mahomet,

rdon my love!—Oh, pardon his contempt

Of earthly fortune and respect of pity,

And let not conquest, ruthlessly pursu'd,

Be equally against his life incens'd,

In this great Turk and hapless Emperess!

And pardon me that was not mov'd with ruth

To see them live so long in misery!

Ah, what may chance to thee, Zenocrate?

Anippe. Madam, content yourself, and be resolv'd Your love hath fortune so at his command, That she shall stay and turn her wheel no more, As long as life maintains his mighty arm That fights for honour to adorn your head. Enter Philemus, a Messenger.

Zeno. What other heavy news now brings Philemus?

Phil. Madam, your father, and th' Arabian king The first aflfecter of your excellence, Come now, as Turnus 'gainst ./Eneas did, Armed with lance into th' ./Egyptian fields, Ready for battle 'gainst my lord, the king.

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