ZABINA. Such good success happen to Bajazeth!

TAMBURLAINE. Zenocrate, the loveliest maid alive, Fairer than rocks of pearl and precious stone, The only paragon of Tamburlaine; Whose eyes are brighter than the lamps of heaven, And speech more pleasant than sweet harmony; That with thy looks canst clear the darken'd sky, And calm the rage of thundering Jupiter; Sit down by her, adorned with my crown, As if thou wert the empress of the world. Stir not, Zenocrate, until thou see Me march victoriously with all my men, Triumphing over him and these his kings, Which I will bring as vassals to thy feet; Till then, take thou my crown, vaunt of my worth, And manage words with her, as we will arms.

ZENOCRATE. And may my love, the king of Persia, Return with victory and free from wound!

BAJAZETH. Now shalt thou feel the force of Turkish arms, Which lately made all Europe quake for fear. I have of Turks, Arabians, Moors, and Jews, Enough to cover all Bithynia: Let thousands die; their slaughter'd carcasses Shall serve for walls and bulwarks to the rest; And as the heads of Hydra, so my power, Subdu'd, shall stand as mighty as before: If they should yield their necks unto the sword, Thy soldiers' arms could not endure to strike So many blows as I have heads for them.(174) Thou know'st not, foolish-hardy Tamburlaine, What 'tis to meet me in the open field, That leave no ground for thee to march upon.

TAMBURLAINE. Our conquering swords shall marshal us the way We use to march upon the slaughter'd foe, Trampling their bowels with our horses' hoofs, Brave horses bred on the(175) white Tartarian hills My camp is like to Julius Caesar's host, That never fought but had the victory; Nor in Pharsalia was there such hot war As these, my followers, willingly would have. Legions of spirits, fleeting in the air, Direct our bullets and our weapons' points, And make your strokes to wound the senseless light;(176) And when she sees our bloody colours spread, Then Victory begins to take her flight, Resting herself 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.]

BAJAZETH. Come, kings and bassoes, let us glut our swords, That thirst to drink the feeble Persians' blood. [Exit with his followers.]

ZABINA. Base concubine, must thou be plac'd by me That am the empress of the mighty Turk?

ZENOCRATE. Disdainful Turkess, and unreverend boss,(177) Call'st thou me concubine, that am betroth'd Unto the great and mighty Tamburlaine?

ZABINA. To Tamburlaine, the great Tartarian thief!

ZENOCRATE. Thou wilt repent these lavish words of thine When thy great basso-master and thyself Must plead for mercy at his kingly feet, And sue to me to be your advocate.(178)

ZABINA. And sue to thee! I tell thee, shameless girl, Thou shalt be laundress to my waiting-maid.-- How lik'st thou her, Ebea? will she serve?

EBEA. Madam, she thinks perhaps she is too fine; But I shall turn her into other weeds, And make her dainty fingers fall to work.

ZENOCRATE. Hear'st thou, Anippe, how thy drudge doth talk? And how my slave, her mistress, menaceth? Both for their sauciness shall be employ'd To dress the common soldiers' meat and drink; For we will scorn they should come near ourselves.

ANIPPE. Yet sometimes let your highness send for them To do the work my chambermaid disdains. [They sound to the battle within.]

ZENOCRATE. Ye gods and powers that govern Persia, And made my lordly love her worthy king, Now strengthen him against the Turkish Bajazeth, And let his foes, like flocks of fearful roes Pursu'd by hunters, fly his angry looks, That I may see him issue conqueror!

ZABINA. Now, Mahomet, solicit God himself, And make him rain down murdering shot from heaven, To dash the Scythians' brains, and strike them dead, That dare(179) to manage arms with him That offer'd jewels to thy sacred shrine When first he warr'd against the Christians! [They sound again to the battle within.]

ZENOCRATE.

Christopher Marlowe
Classic Literature Library
Classic Authors

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