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Act 2, Scene 7

Exeunt to the Battell, and after the battell, enter Cosroe wounded, Theridamas, Tamburlaine, Techelles, Usumcasane, with others.

Barbarous and bloody Tamburlaine,
Thus to deprive me of my crowne and life.
Treacherous and false Theridamas,
Even at the morning of my happy state,
Scarce being seated in my royall throne,
To worke my downfall and untimely end.
An uncouth paine torments my grieved soule,
And death arrests the organe of my voice,
Who entring at the breach thy sword hath made
Sackes every vaine and artier of my heart.
Bloody and insatiate Tamburlain

The thirst of raigne and sweetnes of a crown,
That causde the eldest sonne of heavenly Ops,
To thrust his doting father from his chaire,
And place himselfe in the Emperiall heaven,
Moov'd me to manage armes against thy state.
What better president than mightie Jove?
Nature that fram'd us of foure Elements,
Warring within our breasts for regiment,
Doth teach us all to have aspyring minds:
Our soules, whose faculties can comprehend
The wondrous Architecture of the world:
And measure every wandring plannets course:
Still climing after knowledge infinite,
And alwaies mooving as the restles Spheares,
Wils us to weare our selves and never rest,
Untill we reach the ripest fruit of all,
That perfect blisse and sole felicitie,
The sweet fruition of an earthly crowne.

And that made me to joine with Tamburlain,
For he is grosse and like the massie earth,
That mooves not upwards, nor by princely deeds
Doth meane to soare above the highest sort.

And that made us, the friends of Tamburlaine,
To lift our swords against the Persean King.

For as when Jove did thrust old Saturn down,
Neptune and Dis gain'd each of them a Crowne,
So do we hope to reign in Asia,
If Tamburlain be plac'd in Persea.

The strangest men that ever nature made,
I know not how to take their tyrannies.
My bloodlesse body waxeth chill and colde,
And with my blood my life slides through my wound,
My soule begins to take her flight to hell:
And sommons all my sences to depart.
The heat and moisture which did feed each other,
For want of nourishment to feed them both,
Is drie and cold, and now dooth gastly death
With greedy tallents gripe my bleeding hart,
And like a Harpyr tires on my life.
Theridamas and Tamburlaine, I die,
And fearefull vengeance light upon you both.
He takes the Crowne and puts it on.

Not all the curses which the furies breathe,
Shall make me leave so rich a prize as this:
Theridamas, Techelles, and the rest,
Who thinke you now is king of Persea?

Tamburlaine, Tamburlaine.

Though Mars himselfe the angrie God of armes,
And all the earthly Potentates conspire,
To dispossesse me of this Diadem:
Yet will I weare it in despight of them,
As great commander of this Easterne world,
If you but say that Tamburlaine shall raigne.

Long live Tamburlaine, and raigne in Asia.

So, now it is more surer on my head,
Than if the Gods had held a Parliament:
And all pronounst me king of Persea.

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