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The Works of Christopher Marlowe

Tamburlaine Part 1

Act: 3 Scene: 2

Madame Zenocrate, may I presume

To know the cause of these unquiet fits:

That worke such trouble to your woonted rest:

Tismore then pitty such a heavenly face

Should by hearts sorrow wax so wan and pale,

When your offensive rape by Tamburlaine,

(Which of your whole displeasures should be most)

Hath seem'd to be digested long agoe.

Eternall heaven sooner be dissolv'd,

And all that pierceth Phoebes silver eie,

Before such hap fall to Zenocrate.

With Tamburlaine? Ah faire Zenocrate ,

Let not a man so vile and barbarous,

That holds you from your father in despight,

And keeps you from the honors of a Queene,

Being supposde his worthlesse Concubine,

Be honored with your love, but for necessity.

So now the mighty Souldan heares of you,

Your Highnesse needs not doubt but in short time,

He will with Tamburlaines destruction

Redeeme you from this deadly servitude.

How can you fancie one that lookes so fierce,

Onelie disposed to martiall Stratagems?

Who when he shall embrace you in his armes,

Will tell how many thousand men he slew.

And when you looke for amorous discourse,

Will rattle foorth his facts of war and blood.

Too harsh a subject for your dainty eares.

Yet be not so inconstant in your love,

But let the yong Arabian live in hope,

After your rescue to enjoy his choise.

You see though first the King of Persea

(Being a Shepheard) seem'd to love you much,

Now in his majesty he leaves those lookes,

Those words of favour, and those comfortings,

And gives no more than common courtesies.

Betraide by fortune and suspitious love,

Threatned with frowning wrath and jealousie,

Surpriz'd with feare of hideous revenge,

I stand agast: but most astonied

To see his choller shut in secrete thoughtes,

And wrapt in silence of his angry soule.

Upon his browes was pourtraid ugly death,

And in his eies the furie of his hart,

That shine as Comets, menacing revenge,

And casts a pale complexion on his cheeks.

As when the Sea-man sees the Hyades

Gather an armye of Cemerian clouds,

(Auster and Aquilon with winged Steads

All sweating, tilt about the watery heavens,

With shivering speares enforcing thunderclaps,

And from their shieldes strike flames of lightening)

All fearefull foldes his sailes, and sounds the maine,

Lifting his prayers to the heavens for aid,

Against the terrour of the winds and waves.

So fares Agidas for the late felt frownes

That sent a tempest to my daunted thoughtes,

And makes my soule devine her overthrow.

I prophecied before and now I proove,

The killing frownes of jealousie and love.

He needed not with words confirme my feare,

For words are vaine where working tooles present

The naked action of my threatned end.

It saies, Agydas, thou shalt surely die,

And of extremities elect the least.

More honor and lesse paine it may procure,

To dy by this resolved hand of thine,

Than stay the torments he and heaven have sworne.

Then haste Agydas, and prevent the plagues:

Which thy prolonged Fates may draw on thee:

Go wander free from feare of Tyrants rage,

Remooved from the Torments and the hell:

Wherewith he may excruciate thy soule.

And let Agidas by Agidas die,

And with this stab slumber eternally. [Dies.]