Scene I.: 
          Enter the kings of Trebizon and Soria, one bringing a
          sword and the other a sceptre; next, Orcanes king of
          Natolia, and the king of Jerusalem with the imperial crown,
          after, Callapine; and, after him, other lords and Almeda. 
          Orcanes and the king of Jerusalem crown Callapine, and the
          others give him the sceptre.

Orcanes.  Callapinus Cyricelibes, otherwise Cybelius, son and successive heir to the late mighty emperor Bajazeth, by the aid of God and his friend Mahomet, Emperor of Natolia, Jerusalem, Trebizon, Soria, Amasia, Thracia, Ilyria, Carmania, and all the hundred and thirty kingdoms late contributory to his mighty father, ­long live Callapinus, Emperor of Turkey!

     Callapine.  Thrice-worthy kings, of Natolia and the rest,
     I will requite your royal gratitudes
     With all the benefits my empire yields;
     And, were the sinews of th’ imperial seat
     So knit and strengthen’d as when Bajazeth,
     My royal lord and father, fill’d the throne,
     Whose cursed fate hath so dismember’d it,
     Then should you see this thief of Scythia,
     This proud usurping king of Persia,
     Do us such honour and supremacy,
     Bearing the vengeance of our father’s wrongs,
     As all the world should blot his dignities
     Out of the book of base-born infamies. 
     And now I doubt not but your royal cares
     Have so provided for this cursed foe,
     That, since the heir of mighty Bajazeth
     (An emperor so honour’d for his virtues)
     Revives the spirits of all true Turkish hearts,
     In grievous memory of his father’s shame,
     We shall not need to nourish any doubt,
     But that proud Fortune, who hath follow’d long
     The martial sword of mighty Tamburlaine,
     Will now retain her old inconstancy,
     And raise our honours to as high a pitch,
     In this our strong and fortunate encounter;
     For so hath heaven provided my escape
     ]From all the cruelty my soul sustain’d,
     By this my friendly keeper’s happy means,
     That Jove, surcharg’d with pity of our wrongs,
     Will pour it down in showers on our heads,
     Scourging the pride of cursed Tamburlaine.

     Orcanes.  I have a hundred thousand men in arms;
     Some that, in conquest of the perjur’d Christian,
     Being a handful to a mighty host,
     Think them in number yet sufficient
     To drink the river Nile or Euphrates,
     And for their power enow to win the world.

     King of Jerusalem.  And I as many from Jerusalem,
     Judaea, Gaza, and Sclavonia’s bounds,
     That on mount Sinai, with their ensigns spread,
     Look like the parti-colour’d clouds of heaven
     That shew fair weather to the neighbour morn.

     King of Trebizon.  And I as many bring from Trebizon,
     Chio, Famastro, and Amasia,
     All bordering on the Mare-Major-sea,
     Riso, Sancina, and the bordering towns
     That touch the end of famous Euphrates,
     Whose courages are kindled with the flames
     The cursed Scythian sets on all their towns,
     And vow to burn the villain’s cruel heart.

     King of Soria.  From Soria with seventy thousand strong,
     Ta’en from Aleppo, Soldino, Tripoly,
     And so unto my city of Damascus,
     I march to meet and aid my neighbour kings;
     All which will join against this Tamburlaine,
     And bring him captive to your highness’ feet.

     Orcanes.  Our battle, then, in martial manner pitch’d,
     According to our ancient use, shall bear
     The figure of the semicircled moon,
     Whose horns shell sprinkle through the tainted air
     The poison’d brains of this proud Scythian.

     Callapine.  Well, then, my noble lords, for this my friend
     That freed me from the bondage of my foe,
     I think it requisite and honourable
     To keep my promise and to make him king,
     That is a gentleman, I know, at least.

     Almeda.  That’s no matter, sir, for being a king;
     or Tamburlaine came up of nothing.

     King of Jerusalem.  Your majesty may choose some ’pointed time,
     Performing all your promise to the full;
     ’Tis naught for your majesty to give a kingdom.

     Callapine.  Then will I shortly keep my promise, Almeda.

     Almeda.  Why, I thank your majesty.
          [Exeunt.]

Scene II.: 
          Enter tamburlaine and his three sons, CALYPHAS, Amyras, and
          CELEBINUS; Usumcasane; four attendants bearing the hearse of
          Zenocrate, and the drums sounding a doleful march; the town
          burning.

     Tamburlaine.  So burn the turrets of this cursed town,
     Flame to the highest region of the air,
     And kindle heaps of exhalations,
     That, being fiery meteors, may presage
     Death and destruction to the inhabitants! 
     Over my zenith hang a blazing star,
     That may endure till heaven be dissolv’d,
     Fed with the fresh supply of earthly dregs,
     Threatening a dearth and famine to this land! 
     Flying dragons, lightning, fearful thunder-claps,
     Singe these fair plains, and make them seem as black
     As is the island where the Furies mask,
     Compass’d with Lethe, Styx, and Phlegethon,
     Because my dear Zenocrate is dead!

     CALYPHAS.  This pillar, plac’d in memory of her,
     Where in Arabian, Hebrew, Greek, is writ,
     this town, being burnt by tamburlaine the great,
     forbids the world to build it up again.

     Amyras.  And here this mournful streamer shall be plac’d,
     Wrought with the Persian and th’ Egyptian arms,
     To signify she was a princess born,
     And wife unto the monarch of the East.

     CELEBINUS.  And here this table as a register
     Of all her virtues and perfections.

     Tamburlaine.  And here the picture of Zenocrate,
     To shew her beauty which the world admir’d;
     Sweet picture of divine Zenocrate,
     That, hanging here, will draw the gods from heaven,
     And cause the stars fix’d in the southern arc,
     (Whose lovely faces never any view’d
     That have not pass’d the centre’s latitude,)
     As pilgrims travel to our hemisphere,
     Only to gaze upon Zenocrate. 
     Thou shalt not beautify Larissa-plains,
     But keep within the circle of mine arms: 
     At every town and castle I besiege,
     Thou shalt be set upon my royal tent;
     And, when I meet an army in the field,
     Those looks will shed such influence in my camp,
     As if Bellona, goddess of the war,
     Threw naked swords and sulphur-balls of fire
     Upon the heads of all our enemies. ­
     And now, my lords, advance your spears again;
     Sorrow no more, my sweet Casane, now: 
     Boys, leave to mourn; this town shall ever mourn,
     Being burnt to cinders for your mother’s death.

     CALYPHAS.  If I had wept a sea of tears for her,
     would not ease the sorrows I sustain.

     Amyras.  As is that town, so is my heart consum’d
     With grief and sorrow for my mother’s death.

     CELEBINUS.  My mother’s death hath mortified my mind,
     And sorrow stops the passage of my speech.

     Tamburlaine.  But now, my boys, leave off, and list to me,
     That mean to teach you rudiments of war. 
     I’ll have you learn to sleep upon the ground,
     March in your armour thorough watery fens,
     Sustain the scorching heat and freezing cold,
     Hunger and thirst, right adjuncts of the war;
     And, after this, to scale a castle-wall,
     Besiege a fort, to undermine a town,
     And make whole cities caper in the air: 
     Then next, the way to fortify your men;
     In champion grounds what figure serves you best,
     For which the quinque-angle form is meet,
     Because the corners there may fall more flat
     Whereas the fort may fittest be assail’d,
     And sharpest where th’ assault is desperate: 
     The ditches must be deep; the counterscarps
     Narrow and steep; the walls made high and broad;
     The bulwarks and the rampires large and strong,
     With cavalieros and thick counterforts,
     And room within to lodge six thousand men;
     It must have privy ditches, countermines,
     And secret issuings to defend the ditch;
     It must have high argins and cover’d ways
     To keep the bulwark-fronts from battery,
     And parapets to hide the musketeers,
     Casemates to place the great artillery,
     And store of ordnance, that from every flank
     May scour the outward curtains of the fort,
     Dismount the cannon of the adverse part,
     Murder the foe, and save the walls from breach. 
     When this is learn’d for service on the land,
     By plain and easy demonstration
     I’ll teach you how to make the water mount,
     That you may dry-foot march through lakes and pools,
     Deep rivers, havens, creeks, and little seas,
     And make a fortress in the raging waves,
     Fenc’d with the concave of a monstrous rock,
     Invincible by nature of the place. 
     When this is done, then are ye soldiers,
     And worthy sons of Tamburlaine the Great.

     CALYPHAS.  My lord, but this is dangerous to be done;
     We may be slain or wounded ere we learn.

     Tamburlaine.  Villain, art thou the son of Tamburlaine,
     And fear’st to die, or with a curtle-axe
     To hew thy flesh, and make a gaping wound? 
     Hast thou beheld a peal of ordnance strike
     A ring of pikes, mingled with shot and horse,
     Whose shatter’d limbs, being toss’d as high as heaven,
     Hang in the air as thick as sunny motes,
     And canst thou, coward, stand in fear of death? 
     Hast thou not seen my horsemen charge the foe,
     Shot through the arms, cut overthwart the hands,
     Dying their lances with their streaming blood,
     And yet at night carouse within my tent,
     Filling their empty veins with airy wine,
     That, being concocted, turns to crimson blood,
     And wilt thou shun the field for fear of wounds? 
     View me, thy father, that hath conquer’d kings,
     And, with his host, march’d round about the earth,
     Quite void of scars and clear from any wound,
     That by the wars lost not a drop of blood,
     And see him lance his flesh to teach you all.
          [He cuts his arm.]
     A wound is nothing, be it ne’er so deep;
     Blood is the god of war’s rich livery. 
     Now look I like a soldier, and this wound
     As great a grace and majesty to me,
     As if a chair of gold enamelled,
     Enchas’d with diamonds, sapphires, rubies,
     And fairest pearl of wealthy India,
     Were mounted here under a canopy,
     And I sat down, cloth’d with a massy robe
     That late adorn’d the Afric potentate,
     Whom I brought bound unto Damascus’ walls. 
     Come, boys, and with your fingers search my wound,
     And in my blood wash all your hands at once,
     While I sit smiling to behold the sight. 
     Now, my boys, what think ye of a wound?

     CALYPHAS.  I know not what I should think of it;
     methinks ’tis a pitiful sight.

     CELEBINUS.  ’Tis nothing. ­Give me a wound, father.

     Amyras.  And me another, my lord.

     Tamburlaine.  Come, sirrah, give me your arm.

     CELEBINUS.  Here, father, cut it bravely, as you did your own.

     Tamburlaine.  It shall suffice thou dar’st abide a wound;
     My boy, thou shalt not lose a drop of blood
     Before we meet the army of the Turk;
     But then run desperate through the thickest throngs,
     Dreadless of blows, of bloody wounds, and death;
     And let the burning of Larissa-walls,
     My speech of war, and this my wound you see,
     Teach you, my boys, to bear courageous minds,
     Fit for the followers of great Tamburlaine. ­
     Usumcasane, now come, let us march
     Towards Techelles and Theridamas,
     That we have sent before to fire the towns,
     The towers and cities of these hateful Turks,
     And hunt that coward faint-heart runaway,
     With that accursed traitor Almeda,
     Till fire and sword have found them at a bay.

     Usumcasane.  I long to pierce his bowels with my sword,
     That hath betray’d my gracious sovereign, ­
     That curs’d and damned traitor Almeda.

     Tamburlaine.  Then let us see if coward Callapine
     Dare levy arms against our puissance,
     That we may tread upon his captive neck,
     And treble all his father’s slaveries.
          [Exeunt.]

Scene III.: 
          Enter Techelles, Theridamas, and their train.

     Theridamas.  Thus have we march’d northward from Tamburlaine,
     Unto the frontier point of Soria;
     And this is Balsera, their chiefest hold,
     Wherein is all the treasure of the land.

     Techelles.  Then let us bring our light artillery,
     Minions, falc’nets, and sakers, to the trench,
     Filling the ditches with the walls’ wide breach,
     And enter in to seize upon the hold. ­
     How say you, soldiers, shall we not?

Soldiers.  Yes, my lord, yes; come, let’s about it.

Theridamas.  But stay a while; summon a parle, drum. 
It may be they will yield it quietly,
Knowing two kings, the friends to Tamburlaine,
Stand at the walls with such a mighty power.
[A parley sounded. ­Captain appears on the walls,
with Olympia his wife, and his son.]

Captain.  What require you, my masters?

Theridamas.  Captain, that thou yield up thy hold to us.

Captain.  To you! why, do you think me weary of it?

Techelles.  Nay, captain, thou art weary of thy life,
If thou withstand the friends of Tamburlaine.

     Theridamas.  These pioners of Argier in Africa,
     Even in the cannon’s face, shall raise a hill
     Of earth and faggots higher than thy fort,
     And, over thy argins and cover’d ways,
     Shall play upon the bulwarks of thy hold
     Volleys of ordnance, till the breach be made
     That with his ruin fills up all the trench;
     And, when we enter in, not heaven itself
     Shall ransom thee, thy wife, and family.

     Techelles.  Captain, these Moors shall cut the leaden pipes
     That bring fresh water to thy men and thee,
     And lie in trench before thy castle-walls,
     That no supply of victual shall come in,
     Nor [any] issue forth but they shall die;
     And, therefore, captain, yield it quietly.

     Captain.  Were you, that are the friends of Tamburlaine,
     Brothers of holy Mahomet himself,
     I would not yield it; therefore do your worst: 
     Raise mounts, batter, intrench, and undermine,
     Cut off the water, all convoys that can,
     Yet I am resolute:  and so, farewell.
          [Captain, Olympia, and son, retire from the walls.]

     Theridamas.  Pioners, away! and where I stuck the stake,
     Intrench with those dimensions I prescrib’d;
     Cast up the earth towards the castle-wall,
     Which, till it may defend you, labour low,
     And few or none shall perish by their shot.

     Pioners.  We will, my lord.
          [Exeunt pioners.]

     Techelles.  A hundred horse shall scout about the plains,
     To spy what force comes to relieve the hold. 
     Both we, Theridamas, will intrench our men,
     And with the Jacob’s staff measure the height
     And distance of the castle from the trench,
     That we may know if our artillery
     Will carry full point-blank unto their walls.

     Theridamas.  Then see the bringing of our ordnance
     Along the trench into the battery,
     Where we will have gallions of six foot broad,
     To save our cannoneers from musket-shot;
     Betwixt which shall our ordnance thunder forth,
     And with the breach’s fall, smoke, fire, and dust,
     The crack, the echo, and the soldiers’ cry,
     Make deaf the air and dim the crystal sky.

     Techelles.  Trumpets and drums, alarum presently! 
     And, soldiers, play the men; the hold is yours!
          [Exeunt.]

Scene IV.: 
          Alarms within.  Enter the captain, with Olympia, and his
          son.

     Olympia.  Come, good my lord, and let us haste from hence,
     Along the cave that leads beyond the foe: 
     No hope is left to save this conquer’d hold.

     Captain.  A deadly bullet, gliding through my side,
     Lies heavy on my heart; I cannot live: 
     I feel my liver pierc’d, and all my veins,
     That there begin and nourish every part,
     Mangled and torn, and all my entrails bath’d
     In blood that straineth from their orifex. 
     Farewell, sweet wife! sweet son, farewell!  I die.
          [Dies.]

     Olympia.  Death, whither art thou gone, that both we live? 
     Come back again, sweet Death, and strike us both! 
     One minute and our days, and one sepulchre
     Contain our bodies!  Death, why com’st thou not
     Well, this must be the messenger for thee: 
          [Drawing a dagger.]
     Now, ugly Death, stretch out thy sable wings,
     And carry both our souls where his remains. ­
     Tell me, sweet boy, art thou content to die? 
     These barbarous Scythians, full of cruelty,
     And Moors, in whom was never pity found,
     Will hew us piecemeal, put us to the wheel,
     Or else invent some torture worse than that;
     Therefore die by thy loving mother’s hand,
     Who gently now will lance thy ivory throat,
     And quickly rid thee both of pain and life.

     Son.  Mother, despatch me, or I’ll kill myself;
     For think you I can live and see him dead? 
     Give me your knife, good mother, or strike home: 
     The Scythians shall not tyrannize on me: 
     Sweet mother, strike, that I may meet my father.
          [She stabs him, and he dies.]

Olympia.  Ah, sacred Mahomet, if this be sin,
Entreat a pardon of the God of heaven,
And purge my soul before it come to thee!
[She burns the bodies of her husband and son,
and then attempts to kill herself.]

Enter Theridamas, Techelles, and all their train.

Theridamas.  How now, madam! what are you doing?

Olympia.  Killing myself, as I have done my son,
Whose body, with his father’s, I have burnt,
Lest cruel Scythians should dismember him.

Techelles.  ’Twas bravely done, and like a soldier’s wife. 
Thou shalt with us to Tamburlaine the Great,
Who, when he hears how resolute thou wert,
Will match thee with a viceroy or a king.

     Olympia.  My lord deceas’d was dearer unto me
     Than any viceroy, king, or emperor;
     And for his sake here will I end my days.

     Theridamas.  But, lady, go with us to Tamburlaine,
     And thou shalt see a man greater than Mahomet,
     In whose high looks is much more majesty,
     Than from the concave superficies
     Of Jove’s vast palace, the empyreal orb,
     Unto the shining bower where Cynthia sits,
     Like lovely Thetis, in a crystal robe;
     That treadeth Fortune underneath his feet,
     And makes the mighty god of arms his slave;
     On whom Death and the Fatal Sisters wait
     With naked swords and scarlet liveries;
     Before whom, mounted on a lion’s back,
     Rhamnusia bears a helmet full of blood,
     And strows the way with brains of slaughter’d men;
     By whose proud side the ugly Furies run,
     Hearkening when he shall bid them plague the world;
     Over whose zenith, cloth’d in windy air,
     And eagle’s wings join’d to her feather’d breast,
     Fame hovereth, sounding of her golden trump,
     That to the adverse poles of that straight line
     Which measureth the glorious frame of heaven
     The name of mighty Tamburlaine is spread;
     And him, fair lady, shall thy eyes behold. 
     Come.

     Olympia.  Take pity of a lady’s ruthful tears,
     That humbly craves upon her knees to stay,
     And cast her body in the burning flame
     That feeds upon her son’s and husband’s flesh.

     Techelles.  Madam, sooner shall fire consume us both
     Than scorch a face so beautiful as this,
     In frame of which Nature hath shew’d more skill
     Than when she gave eternal chaos form,
     Drawing from it the shining lamps of heaven.

     Theridamas.  Madam, I am so far in love with you,
     That you must go with us:  no remedy.

     Olympia.  Then carry me, I care not, where you will,
     And let the end of this my fatal journey
     Be likewise end to my accursed life.

     Techelles.  No, madam, but the beginning of your joy: 
     Come willingly therefore.

     Theridamas.  Soldiers, now let us meet the general,
     Who by this time is at Natolia,
     Ready to charge the army of the Turk. 
     The gold and silver, and the pearl, ye got,
     Rifling this fort, divide in equal shares: 
     This lady shall have twice so much again
     Out of the coffers of our treasury.
          [Exeunt.]

Scene V.: 
          Enter Callapine, Orcanes, the kings of Jerusalem, Trebizon,
          and Soria, with their train, Almeda, and a messenger.

     Messenger.  Renowmed emperor, mighty Callapine,
     God’s great lieutenant over all the world,
     Here at Aleppo, with an host of men,
     Lies Tamburlaine, this king of Persia,
     (In number more than are the quivering leaves
     Of Ida’s forest, where your highness’ hounds
     With open cry pursue the wounded stag,)
     Who means to girt Natolia’s walls with siege,
     Fire the town, and over-run the land.

     Callapine.  My royal army is as great as his,
     That, from the bounds of Phrygia to the sea
     Which washeth Cyprus with his brinish waves,
     Covers the hills, the valleys, and the plains. 
     Viceroys and peers of Turkey, play the men;
     Whet all your swords to mangle Tamburlaine,
     His sons, his captains, and his followers: 
     By Mahomet, not one of them shall live! 
     The field wherein this battle shall be fought
     For ever term’d the Persians’ sepulchre,
     In memory of this our victory.

     Orcanes.  Now he that calls himself the scourge of Jove,
     The emperor of the world, and earthly god,
     Shall end the warlike progress he intends,
     And travel headlong to the lake of hell,
     Where legions of devils (knowing he must die
     Here in Natolia by your highness’ hands),
     All brandishing their brands of quenchless fire,
     Stretching their monstrous paws, grin with their teeth,
     And guard the gates to entertain his soul.

     Callapine.  Tell me, viceroys, the number of your men,
     And what our army royal is esteem’d.

     King of Jerusalem.  From Palestina and Jerusalem,
     Of Hebrews three score thousand fighting men
     Are come, since last we shew’d your majesty.

     Orcanes.  So from Arabia Desert, and the bounds
     Of that sweet land whose brave metropolis
     Re-edified the fair Semiramis,
     Came forty thousand warlike foot and horse,
     Since last we number’d to your majesty.

     King of Trebizon.  From Trebizon in Asia the Less,
     Naturaliz’d Turks and stout Bithynians
     Came to my bands, full fifty thousand more,
     (That, fighting, know not what retreat doth mean,
     Nor e’er return but with the victory,)
     Since last we number’d to your majesty.

     King of Soria.  Of Sorians from Halla is repair’d,
     And neighbour cities of your highness’ land,
     Ten thousand horse, and thirty thousand foot,
     Since last we number’d to your majesty;
     So that the army royal is esteem’d
     Six hundred thousand valiant fighting men.

     Callapine.  Then welcome, Tamburlaine, unto thy death! ­
     Come, puissant viceroys, let us to the field
     (The Persians’ sepulchre), and sacrifice
     Mountains of breathless men to Mahomet,
     Who now, with Jove, opens the firmament
     To see the slaughter of our enemies.

          Enter tamburlaine with his three sons, CALYPHAS, Amyras,
          and CELEBINUS; Usumcasane, and others.

     Tamburlaine.  How now, Casane! see, a knot of kings,
     Sitting as if they were a-telling riddles!

     Usumcasane.  My lord, your presence makes them pale and wan: 
     Poor souls, they look as if their deaths were near.

     Tamburlaine.  Why, so he is, Casane; I am here: 
     But yet I’ll save their lives, and make them slaves. ­
     Ye petty kings of Turkey, I am come,
     As Hector did into the Grecian camp,
     To overdare the pride of Graecia,
     And set his warlike person to the view
     Of fierce Achilles, rival of his fame: 
     I do you honour in the simile;
     For, if I should, as Hector did Achilles,
     (The worthiest knight that ever brandish’d sword,)
     Challenge in combat any of you all,
     I see how fearfully ye would refuse,
     And fly my glove as from a scorpion.

     Orcanes.  Now, thou art fearful of thy army’s strength,
     Thou wouldst with overmatch of person fight: 
     But, shepherd’s issue, base-born Tamburlaine,
     Think of thy end; this sword shall lance thy throat.

     Tamburlaine.  Villain, the shepherd’s issue (at whose birth
     Heaven did afford a gracious aspect,
     And join’d those stars that shall be opposite
     Even till the dissolution of the world,
     And never meant to make a conqueror
     So famous as is mighty Tamburlaine)
     Shall so torment thee, and that Callapine,
     That, like a roguish runaway, suborn’d
     That villain there, that slave, that Turkish dog,
     To false his service to his sovereign,
     As ye shall curse the birth of Tamburlaine.

     Callapine.  Rail not, proud Scythian:  I shall now revenge
     My father’s vile abuses and mine own.

     King of Jerusalem.  By Mahomet, he shall be tied in chains,
     Rowing with Christians in a brigandine
     About the Grecian isles to rob and spoil,
     And turn him to his ancient trade again: 
     Methinks the slave should make a lusty thief.

     Callapine.  Nay, when the battle ends, all we will meet,
     And sit in council to invent some pain
     That most may vex his body and his soul.

Tamburlaine.  Sirrah Callapine, I’ll hang a clog about your neck for running away again:  you shall not trouble me thus to come and fetch you. ­ But as for you, viceroy, you shall have bits, And, harness’d like my horses, draw my coach; And, when ye stay, be lash’d with whips of wire:  I’ll have you learn to feed on provender, And in a stable lie upon the planks.

     Orcanes.  But, Tamburlaine, first thou shalt kneel to us,
     And humbly crave a pardon for thy life.

     King of Trebizon.  The common soldiers of our mighty host
     Shall bring thee bound unto the general’s tent [.]

     King of Soria.  And all have jointly sworn thy cruel death,
     Or bind thee in eternal torments’ wrath.

     Tamburlaine.  Well, sirs, diet yourselves; you know I
     shall have occasion shortly to journey you.

     CELEBINUS.  See, father, how Almeda the jailor looks upon us!

     Tamburlaine.  Villain, traitor, damned fugitive,
     I’ll make thee wish the earth had swallow’d thee! 
     See’st thou not death within my wrathful looks? 
     Go, villain, cast thee headlong from a rock,
     Or rip thy bowels, and rent out thy heart,
     T’ appease my wrath; or else I’ll torture thee,
     Searing thy hateful flesh with burning irons
     And drops of scalding lead, while all thy joints
     Be rack’d and beat asunder with the wheel;
     For, if thou liv’st, not any element
     Shall shroud thee from the wrath of Tamburlaine.

     Callapine.  Well, in despite of thee, he shall be king. ­
     Come, Almeda; receive this crown of me: 
     I here invest thee king of Ariadan,
     Bordering on Mare Roso, near to Mecca.

     Orcanes.  What! take it, man.

     Almeda. [to Tamb.] Good my lord, let me take it.

     Callapine.  Dost thou ask him leave? here; take it.

     Tamburlaine.  Go to, sirrah! take your crown, and make up
     the half dozen.  So, sirrah, now you are a king, you must give
     arms.

     Orcanes.  So he shall, and wear thy head in his scutcheon.

Tamburlaine.  No; let him hang a bunch of keys on his standard, to put him in remembrance he was a jailor, that, when I take him, I may knock out his brains with them, and lock you in the stable, when you shall come sweating from my chariot.

     King of Trebizon.  Away! let us to the field, that the villain
     may be slain.

     Tamburlaine.  Sirrah, prepare whips, and bring my chariot
     to my tent; for, as soon as the battle is done, I’ll ride
     in triumph through the camp. 
          Enter Theridamas, Techelles, and their train. 
     How now, ye petty kings? lo, here are bugs
     Will make the hair stand upright on your heads,
     And cast your crowns in slavery at their feet! ­
     Welcome, Theridamas and Techelles, both: 
     See ye this rout, and know ye this same king?

     Theridamas.  Ay, my lord; he was Callapine’s keeper.

     Tamburlaine.  Well, now ye see he is a king.  Look to him,
     Theridamas, when we are fighting, lest he hide his crown
     as the foolish king of Persia did.

     King of Soria.  No, Tamburlaine; he shall not be put
     to that exigent, I warrant thee.

     Tamburlaine.  You know not, sir. ­
     But now, my followers and my loving friends,
     Fight as you ever did, like conquerors,
     The glory of this happy day is yours. 
     My stern aspect shall make fair Victory,
     Hovering betwixt our armies, light on me,
     Loaden with laurel-wreaths to crown us all.

     Techelles.  I smile to think how, when this field is fought
     And rich Natolia ours, our men shall sweat
     With carrying pearl and treasure on their backs.

     Tamburlaine.  You shall be princes all, immediately. ­
     Come, fight, ye Turks, or yield us victory.

     Orcanes.  No; we will meet thee, slavish Tamburlaine.
          [Exeunt severally.]