Act 3, Scene 3[Enter] Tamburlain, Techelles, Usumcasane, Theridamas, Bassoe, Zenocrate, [Anippe,] with others.
Bassoe, by this thy Lord and maister knowes,
I meane to meet him in Bithynia:
See how he comes? Tush. Turkes are ful of brags
And menace more than they can wel performe:
He meet me in the field and fetch thee hence?
Alas (poore Turke) his fortune is to weake,
T'incounter with the strength of Tamburlaine
View well my Camp, and speake indifferently,
Doo not my captaines and my souldiers looke
As if they meant to conquer Affrica.
Your men are valiant but their number few,
And cannot terrefie his mightie hoste.
Mv Lord. the great Commander of the worlde.
Besides fifteene contributorie kings,
Hath now in armes ten thousand Janisaries,
Mounted on lusty Mauritanian Steeds,
Brought to the war by men of Tripoly:
Two hundred thousand footmen that have serv'd
In two set batters fought in Grecia:
And for the expedition of this war,
If he think good, can from his garrisons,
Withdraw as many more to follow him.
The more he brings, the greater is the spoile,
For when they perish by our warlike hands,
We meane to seate our footmen on their Steeds,
And rifle all those stately Janisars.
But wil those Kings accompany your Lord?
Such as his Highnesse please, but some must stay
To rule the provinces he late subdude.
Then fight couragiously, their crowns are yours.
This hand shal set them on your conquering heads:
That made me Emperour of Asia.
Let him bring millions infinite of men,
Unpeopling Westerne Affrica and Greece:
Yet we assure us of the victorie.
Even he that in a trice vanquisht two kings,
More mighty than the Turkish Emperour:
Shall rouse him out of Europe, and pursue
His scattered armie til they yeeld or die.
Wel said Theridamas, speake in that mood,
For Wil and Shall best fitteth Tamburlain,
Whose smiling stars gives him assured hope
Of martiall triumph, ere he meete his foes:
I that am tearm'd the Scourge and Wrath of God,
The onely feare and terrour of the world,
Wil first subdue the Turke, and then inlarge
Those Christian Captives, which you keep as slaves,
Burdening their bodies with your heavie chaines,
And feeding them with thin and slender fare,
That naked rowe about the Terrene sea.
And when they chance to breath and rest a space,
Are punisht with Bastones so grievously,
That they lie panting on the Gallies side,
And strive for life at every stroke they give.
These are the quell priates of Argeire,
That damned traine, the scum of Affrica,
Inhabited with stragling Runnagates,
That make quick havock of the Christian blood.
But as Ilive that towne shall curse the time
That Tamburlaine set foot in Affrica.
Enter Bajazethwith his Bassoes and contributorie Kinges [and Zabina and Ebea].
Bassoes and Janisaries of my Guard,
Attend upon the person of your Lord,
The greatest Potentate of Affrica.
Techelles, and the rest prepare your swordes,
I meane t'incounter with that Bajazeth.
Kings of Fesse, Moroccus and Argier,
He cals me Bajazeth, whom you call Lord.
Note the presumption of this Scythian slave:
I tell thee villaine, those that lead my horse
Have to their names tytles of dignity,
And dar'st thou bluntly call me Bajazeth?
And know thou Turke, that those which lead my horse,
Shall lead thee Captive thorow Affrica
And dar'st thou bluntly call me Tamburlaine?
By Mahomet, my Kinsmans sepulcher,
And by the holy Alcaron I sweare,
He shall be made a chest and lustlesse Eunuke,
And in my Sarell tend my Concubines:
And all his Captaines that thus stoutly stand,
Shall draw the chariot of my Emperesse,
Whom I have brought to see their overthrow.
Bythis my sword that conquer'd Persea,
Thy fall shall make me famous through the world:
I will not tell thee how Ile handle thee,
But every common souldier of my Camp
Shall smile to see thy miserable state.
What meanes the mighty Turkish Emperor
To talk with one so base as Tamburlaine?
Ye Moores and valiant men of Barbary,
How can ye suffer these indignities?
Leave words and let them feele your lances pointes,
Which glided through the bowels of the Greekes.
Wel said my stout contributory kings,
Your threefold armie and my hugie hoste,
Shall swallow up these base borne Perseans.
Puissant, renowmed and mighty Tamburlain,
Why stay we thus prolonging all their lives?
I long to see those crownes won by our swords,
That we may raigne as kings of Affrica.
What Coward wold not fight for such a prize?
Fight all couragiously and be you kings.
I speake it, and my words are oracles.
Zabina, mother of three braver boies,
Than Hercules, that in his infancie
Did pash the jawes of Serpents venomous:
Whose hands are made to gripe a warlike Lance,
Their shoulders broad, for complet armour fit,
Their lims more large and of a bigger size
Than all the brats ysprong from Typhons loins:
Who, when they come unto their fathers age,
Will batter Turrets with their manly fists.
Sit here upon this royal chaire of state,
And on thy head weare my Emperiall crowne,
Untill I bring this sturdy Tamburlaine,
And all his Captains bound in captive chaines.
Such good successe happen to Bajazeth.
Zenocrate:, the loveliest Maide alive
Fairer than rockes of pearle and pretious stone,
The onely Paragon of Tamburlaine,
Whose eies are brighter than the Lamps of heaven,
And speech more pleasant than sweet harmony:
That with thy lookes canst cleare the darkened Sky:
And calme the rage of thundring Jupiter:
Sit downe by her: adorned with my Crowne,
As if thou wert the Empresse of the world.
Stir not Zenocrate untill thou see
Me martch victoriously with all my men,
Triumphing over him and these his kings,
Which I will bring as Vassals to thy feete.
Til then take thou my crowne, vaunt of my worth,
And manage words with her as we will armes.
And may my Love, the king of Persea,
Returne with victorie, and free from wound.
Now shalt thou feel the force of Turkish arms,
Which lately made all Europe quake for feare:
I have of Turkes, Arabians, Moores and Jewes
Enough to cover all Bythinia.
Let thousands die, their slaughtered Carkasses
Shall serve for walles and bulwarkes to the rest:
And as the heads of Hydra, somy power
Subdued, shall stand as mighty as before:
If they should yeeld their necks unto the sword,
Thy souldiers armes could not endure to strike
So many blowes as I have heads for thee.
Thou knowest not (foolish hardy Tamburlaine)
What tis to meet me in the open field,
That leave no ground for thee to martch upon.
Our conquering swords shall marshal us the way
We use to march upon the slaughtered foe:
Trampling their bowels with our horses hooffes:
Brave horses, bred onthe white Tartarian hils:
My Campe is like to Julius Caesars Hoste,
That never fought but had the victorie:
Nor in Pharsalia was there such hot war,
As these my followers willingly would have:
Legions of Spirits fleeting in the aire,
Direct our Bullets and our weapons pointes
And make our strokes to wound the sencelesse aire.
And when she sees our bloody Collours spread,
Then Victorie begins to take her flight,
Resting her selfe upon my milk-white Tent:
But come my Lords, to weapons let us fall.
The field is ours, the Turk, his wife and all.
Exit, with his followers.
Come Kings and Bassoes, let us glut our swords
That thirst to drinke the feble Perseans blood.
Exit, with his followers.
Base Concubine, must thou be plac'd by me
That am the Empresse of the mighty Turke?
Disdainful Turkesse and unreverend Bosse,
Cal'st thou me Concubine that am betroath'd
Unto the great and mighty Tamburlaine?
To Tamburlaine the great Tartarian thiefe?
Thou wilt repent these lavish words of thine,
When thy great Bassoe-maister and thy selfe,
Must plead for mercie at his kingly feet,
And sue to me to be your Advocates.
And sue to thee? I tell thee shamelesse girle,
Thou shalt be Landresse to my waiting maid.
How lik'st thou her Ebea, will she serve?
Madame, she thinks perhaps she is too fine.
But I shall turne her into other weedes,
And make her daintie fingers fall to woorke.
Hearst thou Anippe, how thy drudge doth talk,
And how my slave, her mistresse menaceth.
Both for their sausinesse shall be employed,
To dresse the common souldiers meat and drink.
For we will scorne they should come nere our selves.
Yet somtimes let your highnesse send for them
To do the work my chamber maid disdaines.
They sound to the battell within, and stay.
Ye Gods and powers that governe Persea,
And made my lordly Love her worthy King:
Now strengthen him against the Turkish Bajazeth,
And let his foes like flockes of fearfull Roes,
Pursude by hunters, flie his angrie lookes,
That I may see him issue Conquerour.
Now Mahomet, solicit God himselfe,
And make him raine down murthering shot from heaven
To dash the Scythians braines, and strike them dead,
That dare to manage armes with him,
That offered jewels to thy sacred shrine,
When first he war'd against the Christians.
To the battell againe.
By this the Turks lie weltring in their blood
And Tamburlaine is Lord of Affrica.
Thou art deceiv'd, I heard the Trumpets sound,
As when my Emperour overthrew the Greeks:
And led them Captive into Affrica
Straight will I use thee as thy pride deserves:
Prepare thy selfe to live and die my slave.
If Mahomet should come from heaven and sweare,
My royall Lord is slaine or conquered,
Yet should he not perswade me otherwise,
But that he lives and will be Conquerour.
Bajazeth flies [over the stage], and he pursues him. The battell short, and they enter, Bajazeth is overcome.
Now king of Bassoes, who is Conqueror?
Thou, by the fortune of thisdamned foile.
Where are your stout contributorie kings?
Enter Techelles, Theridamas, Usumcasane.
We have their crownes, their bodies strowe the fielde.
Each man a crown? why kingly fought ifaith.
Deliver them into my treasurie.
Now let me offer to my gracious Lord,
His royall Crowne againe, so highly won.
Nay take the Turkish Crown from her, Zenocrate,
And crowne me Emperour of Affrica.
No Tamburlain, though now thou gat the best,
Thou shalt not yet be Lord of Affrica.
Give her the Crowne Turkesse, you wer best.
He takes it from her,and gives it Zenocrate.
Injurious villaines, thieves, runnagates,
How dare you thus abuse my Maiesty?
Here Madam, you are Empresse, she is none.
Not now Theridamas, her time is past:
The pilfers that have bolstered up those tearmes,
Are falne in clusters at my conquering feet.
Though he be prisoner, he may be ransomed.
Not all the world shall ransom Bajazeth
Ah faire Zabina, we have lost the field.
And never had the Turkish Emperour
So great a foile by any forraine foe.
Now will the Christian miscreants be glad,
Ringing with joy their superstitious belles:
And making bonfires for my overthrow.
But ere I die those foule Idolaters
Shall make me bonfires with their filthy bones,
For though the glorie of this day be lost,
Affrik and Greece have garrisons enough
To make me Soveraigne of the earth againe.
Those walled garrisons wil I subdue,
And write my selfe great Lord of Affrica:
So from the East unto the furthest West,
Shall Tamburlain extend his puisant arme.
The Galles and those pilling Briggandines,
That yeerely saile to the Venetian gulfe,
And hover in the straightes for Christians wracke,
Shall lie at anchor in the Isle Asant,
Untill the Persean Fleete and men of war,
Sailing along the Orientall sea,
Have fetcht about the Indian continent:
Even from Persepolis to Mexico,
And thence unto the straightes of Jubalter:
Where they shall meete, and joine their force in one,
Keeping in aw the Bay of Portingale:
And all the Ocean by the British shore.
And by this meanes Ile win the world at last.
Yet set a ransome on me Tamburlaine.
What, thinkst thou Tamburlain esteems thy gold?
Ile make the kings of India ere I die,
Offer their mines (to sew for peace) to me,
And dig for treasure to appease my wrath:
Come bind them both and one lead in the Turke.
The Turkesse let my Loves maid lead away.
They bind them.
Ah villaines, dare ye touch my sacred armes?
O Mahomet, Oh sleepie Mahomet.
O cursed Mahomet that makest us thus
The slaves to Scythians rude and barbarous.
Come bring them in, and for this happy conquest
Triumph, and solemnize a martiall feast.