Scene I.: 
          Alarms within.  Amyras and CELEBINUS issue from the tent
          where CALYPHAS sits asleep.

     Amyras.  Now in their glories shine the golden crowns
     Of these proud Turks, much like so many suns
     That half dismay the majesty of heaven. 
     Now, brother, follow we our father’s sword,
     That flies with fury swifter than our thoughts,
     And cuts down armies with his conquering wings.

     CELEBINUS.  Call forth our lazy brother from the tent,
     For, if my father miss him in the field,
     Wrath, kindled in the furnace of his breast,
     Will send a deadly lightning to his heart.

     Amyras.  Brother, ho! what, given so much to sleep,
     You cannot leave it, when our enemies’ drums
     And rattling cannons thunder in our ears
     Our proper ruin and our father’s foil?

     CALYPHAS.  Away, ye fools! my father needs not me,
     Nor you, in faith, but that you will be thought
     More childish-valourous than manly-wise. 
     If half our camp should sit and sleep with me,
     My father were enough to scare the foe: 
     You do dishonour to his majesty,
     To think our helps will do him any good.

     Amyras.  What, dar’st thou, then, be absent from the fight,
     Knowing my father hates thy cowardice,
     And oft hath warn’d thee to be still in field,
     When he himself amidst the thickest troops
     Beats down our foes, to flesh our taintless swords?

     CALYPHAS.  I know, sir, what it is to kill a man;
     It works remorse of conscience in me. 
     I take no pleasure to be murderous,
     Nor care for blood when wine will quench my thirst.

     CELEBINUS.  O cowardly boy! fie, for shame, come forth! 
     Thou dost dishonour manhood and thy house.

     CALYPHAS.  Go, go, tall stripling, fight you for us both,
     And take my other toward brother here,
     For person like to prove a second Mars. 
     ’Twill please my mind as well to hear, both you
     Have won a heap of honour in the field,
     And left your slender carcasses behind,
     As if I lay with you for company.

     Amyras.  You will not go, then?

     CALYPHAS.  You say true.

     Amyras.  Were all the lofty mounts of Zona Mundi
     That fill the midst of farthest Tartary
     Turn’d into pearl and proffer’d for my stay,
     I would not bide the fury of my father,
     When, made a victor in these haughty arms,
     He comes and finds his sons have had no shares
     In all the honours he propos’d for us.

     CALYPHAS.  Take you the honour, I will take my ease;
     My wisdom shall excuse my cowardice: 
     I go into the field before I need!
          [Alarms within.  Amyras and CELEBINUS run out.]
     The bullets fly at random where they list;
     And, should I go, and kill a thousand men,
     I were as soon rewarded with a shot,
     And sooner far than he that never fights;
     And, should I go, and do no harm nor good,
     I might have harm, which all the good I have,
     Join’d with my father’s crown, would never cure. 
     I’ll to cards. ­Perdicas!

          Enter Perdicas.

     Perdicas.  Here, my lord.

     CALYPHAS. 
     Come, thou and I will go to cards to drive away the time.

     Perdicas.  Content, my lord:  but what shall we play for?

     CALYPHAS.  Who shall kiss the fairest of the Turks’ concubines
     first, when my father hath conquered them.

     Perdicas.  Agreed, i’faith.
          [They play.]

CALYPHAS.  They say I am a coward, Perdicas, and I fear as little their taratántaras, their swords, or their cannons as I do a naked lady in a net of gold, and, for fear I should be afraid, would put it off and come to bed with me.

     Perdicas.  Such a fear, my lord, would never make ye retire.

CALYPHAS.  I would my father would let me be put in the front of such a battle once, to try my valour! [Alarms within.] What a coil they keep!  I believe there will be some hurt done anon amongst them.

          Enter tamburlaine, Theridamas, Techelles, Usumcasane;
          Amyras and CELEBINUS leading in Orcanes, and the kings
          of Jerusalem, Trebizon, and Soria; and soldiers.

     Tamburlaine. 
     See now, ye slaves, my children stoop your pride,
     And lead your bodies sheep-like to the sword! ­
     Bring them, my boys, and tell me if the wars
     Be not a life that may illustrate gods,
     And tickle not your spirits with desire
     Still to be train’d in arms and chivalry?

     Amyras.  Shall we let go these kings again, my lord,
     To gather greater numbers ’gainst our power,
     That they may say, it is not chance doth this,
     But matchless strength and magnanimity?

     Tamburlaine.  No, no, Amyras; tempt not Fortune so: 
     Cherish thy valour still with fresh supplies,
     And glut it not with stale and daunted foes. 
     But where’s this coward villain, not my son,
     But traitor to my name and majesty?
          [He goes in and brings CALYPHAS out.]
     Image of sloth, and picture of a slave,
     The obloquy and scorn of my renown! 
     How may my heart, thus fired with mine eyes,
     Wounded with shame and kill’d with discontent,
     Shroud any thought may hold my striving hands
     ]From martial justice on thy wretched soul?

     Theridamas.  Yet pardon him, I pray your majesty.

     Techelles and Usumcasane. 
     Let all of us entreat your highness’ pardon.

     Tamburlaine.  Stand up, ye base, unworthy soldiers! 
     Know ye not yet the argument of arms?

     Amyras.  Good my lord, let him be forgiven for once,
     And we will force him to the field hereafter.

     Tamburlaine.  Stand up, my boys, and I will teach ye arms,
     And what the jealousy of wars must do. ­
     O Samarcanda, where I breathed first,
     And joy’d the fire of this martial flesh,
     Blush, blush, fair city, at thine honour’s foil,
     And shame of nature, which Jaertis’ stream,
     Embracing thee with deepest of his love,
     Can never wash from thy distained brows! ­
     Here, Jove, receive his fainting soul again;
     A form not meet to give that subject essence
     Whose matter is the flesh of Tamburlaine,
     Wherein an incorporeal spirit moves,
     Made of the mould whereof thyself consists,
     Which makes me valiant, proud, ambitious,
     Ready to levy power against thy throne,
     That I might move the turning spheres of heaven;
     For earth and all this airy region
     Cannot contain the state of Tamburlaine.
          [Stabs CALYPHAS.]
     By Mahomet, thy mighty friend, I swear,
     In sending to my issue such a soul,
     Created of the massy dregs of earth,
     The scum and tartar of the elements,
     Wherein was neither courage, strength, or wit,
     But folly, sloth, and damned idleness,
     Thou hast procur’d a greater enemy
     Than he that darted mountains at thy head,
     Shaking the burden mighty Atlas bears,
     Whereat thou trembling hidd’st thee in the air,
     Cloth’d with a pitchy cloud for being seen. ­
     And now, ye canker’d curs of Asia,
     That will not see the strength of Tamburlaine,
     Although it shine as brightly as the sun,
     Now you shall feel the strength of Tamburlaine,
     And, by the state of his supremacy,
     Approve the difference ’twixt himself and you.

     Orcanes.  Thou shew’st the difference ’twixt ourselves and thee,
     In this thy barbarous damned tyranny.

     King of Jerusalem.  Thy victories are grown so violent,
     That shortly heaven, fill’d with the meteors
     Of blood and fire thy tyrannies have made,
     Will pour down blood and fire on thy head,
     Whose scalding drops will pierce thy seething brains,
     And, with our bloods, revenge our bloods on thee.

     Tamburlaine.  Villains, these terrors, and these tyrannies
     (If tyrannies war’s justice ye repute),
     I execute, enjoin’d me from above,
     To scourge the pride of such as Heaven abhors;
     Nor am I made arch-monarch of the world,
     Crown’d and invested by the hand of Jove,
     For deeds of bounty or nobility;
     But, since I exercise a greater name,
     The scourge of God and terror of the world,
     I must apply myself to fit those terms,
     In war, in blood, in death, in cruelty,
     And plague such peasants as resist in me
     The power of Heaven’s eternal majesty. ­
     Theridamas, Techelles, and Casane,
     Ransack the tents and the pavilions
     Of these proud Turks, and take their concubines,
     Making them bury this effeminate brat;
     For not a common soldier shall defile
     His manly fingers with so faint a boy: 
     Then bring those Turkish harlots to my tent,
     And I’ll dispose them as it likes me best. ­
     Meanwhile, take him in.

     Soldiers.  We will, my lord.
          [Exeunt with the body of CALYPHAS.]

     King of Jerusalem.  O damned monster! nay, a fiend of hell,
     Whose cruelties are not so harsh as thine,
     Nor yet impos’d with such a bitter hate!

     Orcanes.  Revenge it, Rhadamanth and Aeacus,
     And let your hates, extended in his pains,
     Excel the hate wherewith he pains our souls!

     King of Trebizon.  May never day give virtue to his eyes,
     Whose sight, compos’d of fury and of fire,
     Doth send such stern affections to his heart!

     King of Soria.  May never spirit, vein, or artier, feed
     The cursed substance of that cruel heart;
     But, wanting moisture and remorseful blood,
     Dry up with anger, and consume with heat!

     Tamburlaine.  Well, bark, ye dogs:  I’ll bridle all your tongues,
     And bind them close with bits of burnish’d steel,
     Down to the channels of your hateful throats;
     And, with the pains my rigour shall inflict,
     I’ll make ye roar, that earth may echo forth
     The far-resounding torments ye sustain;
     As when an herd of lusty Cimbrian bulls
     Run mourning round about the females’ miss,
     And, stung with fury of their following,
     Fill all the air with troublous bellowing. 
     I will, with engines never exercis’d,
     Conquer, sack, and utterly consume
     Your cities and your golden palaces,
     And, with the flames that beat against the clouds,
     Incense the heavens, and make the stars to melt,
     As if they were the tears of Mahomet
     For hot consumption of his country’s pride;
     And, till by vision or by speech I hear
     Immortal Jove say “Cease, my Tamburlaine,”
     I will persist a terror to the world,
     Making the meteors (that, like armed men,
     Are seen to march upon the towers of heaven)
     Run tilting round about the firmament,
     And break their burning lances in the air,
     For honour of my wondrous victories. ­
     Come, bring them in to our pavilion.
          [Exeunt.]

Scene II.: 
          Enter Olympia. 
     Olympia.  Distress’d Olympia, whose weeping eyes,
     Since thy arrival here, behold no sun,
     But, clos’d within the compass of a tent,
     Have stain’d thy cheeks, and made thee look like death,
     Devise some means to rid thee of thy life,
     Rather than yield to his detested suit,
     Whose drift is only to dishonour thee;
     And, since this earth, dew’d with thy brinish tears,
     Affords no herbs whose taste may poison thee,
     Nor yet this air, beat often with thy sighs,
     Contagious smells and vapours to infect thee,
     Nor thy close cave a sword to murder thee,
     Let this invention be the instrument.

          Enter Theridamas. 
     Theridamas.  Well met, Olympia:  I sought thee in my tent,
     But, when I saw the place obscure and dark,
     Which with thy beauty thou wast wont to light,
     Enrag’d, I ran about the fields for thee,
     Supposing amorous Jove had sent his son,
     The winged Hermes, to convey thee hence;
     But now I find thee, and that fear is past,
     Tell me, Olympia, wilt thou grant my suit?

     Olympia.  My lord and husband’s death, with my sweet son’s,
     (With whom I buried all affections
     Save grief and sorrow, which torment my heart,)
     Forbids my mind to entertain a thought
     That tends to love, but meditate on death,
     A fitter subject for a pensive soul.

     Theridamas.  Olympia, pity him in whom thy looks
     Have greater operation and more force
     Than Cynthia’s in the watery wilderness;
     For with thy view my joys are at the full,
     And ebb again as thou depart’st from me.

     Olympia.  Ah, pity me, my lord, and draw your sword,
     Making a passage for my troubled soul,
     Which beats against this prison to get out,
     And meet my husband and my loving son!

     Theridamas.  Nothing but still thy husband and thy son? 
     Leave this, my love, and listen more to me: 
     Thou shalt be stately queen of fair Argier;
     And, cloth’d in costly cloth of massy gold,
     Upon the marble turrets of my court
     Sit like to Venus in her chair of state,
     Commanding all thy princely eye desires;
     And I will cast off arms to sit with thee,
     Spending my life in sweet discourse of love.

     Olympia.  No such discourse is pleasant in mine ears,
     But that where every period ends with death,
     And every line begins with death again: 
     I cannot love, to be an emperess.

     Theridamas.  Nay, lady, then, if nothing will prevail,
     I’ll use some other means to make you yield: 
     Such is the sudden fury of my love,
     I must and will be pleas’d, and you shall yield: 
     Come to the tent again.

     Olympia.  Stay now, my lord; and, will you save my honour,
     I’ll give your grace a present of such price
     As all the world can not afford the like.

     Theridamas.  What is it?

     Olympia.  An ointment which a cunning alchymist
     Distilled from the purest balsamum
     And simplest extracts of all minerals,
     In which the essential form of marble stone,
     Temper’d by science metaphysical,
     And spells of magic from the mouths of spirits,
     With which if you but ’noint your tender skin,
     Nor pistol, sword, nor lance, can pierce your flesh.

     Theridamas.  Why, madam, think you to mock me thus palpably?

     Olympia.  To prove it, I will ’noint my naked throat,
     Which when you stab, look on your weapon’s point,
     And you shall see’t rebated with the blow.

     Theridamas.  Why gave you not your husband some of it,
     If you lov’d him, and it so precious?

     Olympia.  My purpose was, my lord, to spend it so,
     But was prevented by his sudden end;
     And for a present easy proof thereof,
     That I dissemble not, try it on me.

     Theridamas.  I will, Olympia, and will keep it for
     The richest present of this eastern world.
          [She anoints her throat. ]

     Olympia.  Now stab, my lord, and mark your weapon’s point,
     That will be blunted if the blow be great.

     Theridamas.  Here, then, Olympia. ­
          [Stabs her.]
     What, have I slain her?  Villain, stab thyself! 
     Cut off this arm that at murdered my love,
     In whom the learned Rabbis of this age
     Might find as many wondrous miracles
     As in the theoria of the world! 
     Now hell is fairer than Elysium;
     A greater lamp than that bright eye of heaven,
     ]From whence the stars do borrow all their light,
     Wanders about the black circumference;
     And now the damned souls are free from pain,
     For every Fury gazeth on her looks;
     Infernal Dis is courting of my love,
     Inventing masks and stately shows for her,
     Opening the doors of his rich treasury
     To entertain this queen of chastity;
     Whose body shall be tomb’d with all the pomp
     The treasure of my kingdom may afford.
          [Exit with the body.]

Scene III.: 
          Enter tamburlaine, drawn in his chariot by the kings of
          Trebizon and Soria, with bits in their mouths,
          reins in his left hand, and in his right hand a whip
          with which he scourgeth them; Amyras, CELEBINUS, Techelles,
          Theridamas, Usumcasane; Orcanes king of Natolia, and the
          king of Jerusalem, led by five or six common soldiers;
          and other soldiers.

     Tamburlaine.  Holla, ye pamper’d jades of Asia!
     What, can ye draw but twenty miles a-day,
     And have so proud a chariot at your heels,
     And such a coachman as great Tamburlaine,
     But from Asphaltis, where I conquer’d you,
     To Byron here, where thus I honour you? 
     The horse that guide the golden eye of heaven,
     And blow the morning from their nostrils,
     Making their fiery gait above the clouds,
     Are not so honour’d in their governor
     As you, ye slaves, in mighty Tamburlaine. 
     The headstrong jades of Thrace Alcides tam’d,
     That King Aegeus fed with human flesh,
     And made so wanton that they knew their strengths,
     Were not subdu’d with valour more divine
     Than you by this unconquer’d arm of mine. 
     To make you fierce, and fit my appetite,
     You shall be fed with flesh as raw as blood,
     And drink in pails the strongest muscadel: 
     If you can live with it, then live, and draw
     My chariot swifter than the racking clouds;
     If not, then die like beasts, and fit for naught
     But perches for the black and fatal ravens. 
     Thus am I right the scourge of highest Jove;
     And see the figure of my dignity,
     By which I hold my name and majesty!

     Amyras.  Let me have coach, my lord, that I may ride,
     And thus be drawn by these two idle kings.

     Tamburlaine.  Thy youth forbids such ease, my kingly boy: 
     They shall to-morrow draw my chariot,
     While these their fellow-kings may be refresh’d.

     Orcanes.  O thou that sway’st the region under earth,
     And art a king as absolute as Jove,
     Come as thou didst in fruitful Sicily,
     Surveying all the glories of the land,
     And as thou took’st the fair Proserpina,
     Joying the fruit of Ceres’ garden-plot,
     For love, for honour, and to make her queen,
     So, for just hate, for shame, and to subdue
     This proud contemner of thy dreadful power,
     Come once in fury, and survey his pride,
     Haling him headlong to the lowest hell!

     Theridamas.  Your majesty must get some bits for these,
     To bridle their contemptuous cursing tongues,
     That, like unruly never-broken jades,
     Break through the hedges of their hateful mouths,
     And pass their fixed bounds exceedingly.

     Techelles.  Nay, we will break the hedges of their mouths,
     And pull their kicking colts out of their pastures.

     Usumcasane.  Your majesty already hath devis’d
     A mean, as fit as may be, to restrain
     These coltish coach-horse tongues from blasphemy.

     CELEBINUS.  How like you that, sir king? why speak you not?

     King of Jerusalem.  Ah, cruel brat, sprung from a tyrant’s loins! 
     How like his cursed father he begins
     To practice taunts and bitter tyrannies!

     Tamburlaine.  Ay, Turk, I tell thee, this same boy is he
     That must (advanc’d in higher pomp than this)
     Rifle the kingdoms I shall leave unsack’d,
     If Jove, esteeming me too good for earth,
     Raise me, to match the fair Aldeboran,
     Above the threefold astracism of heaven,
     Before I conquer all the triple world. ­
     Now fetch me out the Turkish concubines: 
     I will prefer them for the funeral
     They have bestow’d on my abortive son.
          [The concubines are brought in.]
     Where are my common soldiers now, that fought
     So lion-like upon Asphaltis’ plains?

     Soldiers.  Here, my lord.

     Tamburlaine. 
     Hold ye, tall soldiers, take ye queens a-piece, ­
     I mean such queens as were kings’ concubines;
     Take them; divide them, and their jewels too,
     And let them equally serve all your turns.

     Soldiers.  We thank your majesty.

     Tamburlaine.  Brawl not, I warn you, for your lechery;
     For every man that so offends shall die.

     Orcanes.  Injurious tyrant, wilt thou so defame
     The hateful fortunes of thy victory,
     To exercise upon such guiltless dames
     The violence of thy common soldiers’ lust?

     Tamburlaine. 
     Live continent, then, ye slaves, and meet not me
     With troops of harlots at your slothful heels.

     Concubines.  O, pity us, my lord, and save our honours!

     Tamburlaine.  Are ye not gone, ye villains, with your spoils?
          [The soldiers run away with the concubines.]

     King of Jerusalem.  O, merciless, infernal cruelty!

     Tamburlaine.  Save your honours! ’twere but time indeed,
     Lost long before ye knew what honour meant.

     Theridamas.  It seems they meant to conquer us, my lord,
     And make us jesting pageants for their trulls.

     Tamburlaine.  And now themselves shall make our pageant,
     And common soldiers jest with all their trulls. 
     Let them take pleasure soundly in their spoils,
     Till we prepare our march to Babylon,
     Whither we next make expedition.

     Techelles.  Let us not be idle, then, my lord,
     But presently be prest to conquer it.

     Tamburlaine.  We will, Techelles. ­Forward, then, ye jades! 
     Now crouch, ye kings of greatest Asia,
     And tremble, when ye hear this scourge will come
     That whips down cities and controlleth crowns,
     Adding their wealth and treasure to my store. 
     The Euxine sea, north to Natolia;
     The Terrene, west; the Caspian, north northeast;
     And on the south, Sinus Arabicus;
     Shall all be loaden with the martial spoils
     We will convey with us to Persia. 
     Then shall my native city Samarcanda,
     And crystal waves of fresh Jaertis’ stream,
     The pride and beauty of her princely seat,
     Be famous through the furthest continents;
     For there my palace royal shall be plac’d,
     Whose shining turrets shall dismay the heavens,
     And cast the fame of Ilion’s tower to hell: 
     Thorough the streets, with troops of conquer’d kings,
     I’ll ride in golden armour like the sun;
     And in my helm a triple plume shall spring,
     Spangled with diamonds, dancing in the air,
     To note me emperor of the three-fold world;
     Like to an almond-tree y-mounted high
     Upon the lofty and celestial mount
     Of ever-green Selinus, quaintly deck’d
     With blooms more white than Erycina’s brows,
     Whose tender blossoms tremble every one
     At every little breath that thorough heaven is blown. 
     Then in my coach, like Saturn’s royal son
     Mounted his shining chariot gilt with fire,
     And drawn with princely eagles through the path
     Pav’d with bright crystal and enchas’d with stars,
     When all the gods stand gazing at his pomp,
     So will I ride through Samarcanda-streets,
     Until my soul, dissever’d from this flesh,
     Shall mount the milk-white way, and meet him there. 
     To Babylon, my lords, to Babylon!
          [Exeunt.]