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The Works of Christopher Marlowe

Tamburlaine Part 1

Act: 2 Scene: 2

Come my Meander, let us to this geere,

I tel you true my heart is swolne with wrath,

On this same theevish villaine Tamburlaine

And of that false Cosroe, my traiterous brother.

Would it not grieve a King to be so abusde,

And have a thousand horsmen tane away?

And which is worst to have his Diadem

Sought for by such scalde knaves as love him not?

I thinke it would: wel then, by heavens I sweare,

Aurora shatl not peepe out of her doves,

But I will have Cosroe by the head,

And kill proud Tamburlaine with point of sword.

Tell you the rest (Meander) I have said.

Was there such brethren, sweet Meander, say,

That sprong of teeth of Dragons venomous?

And tis a prety toy to be a Poet.

Wel, wel (Meander) thou art deeply read:

And having thee, I have a jewell sure:

Go on my Lord, and give your charge I say,

Thy wit will make us Conquerors to day.

He tells you true, my maisters, so he does.

Drums, why sound ye not when Meander speaks.

Act: 2 Scene: 4

Accurst be he that first invented war,

They knew not, ah, they knew not simple men,

How those were hit by pelting Cannon shot,

Stand staggering like a quivering Aspen leafe,

Fearing the force of Boreas boistrous blasts.

In what a lamentable case were I,

If Nature had not given me wisedomes lore?

For Kings are clouts that every man shoots at,

Our Crowne the pin that thousands seeke to cleave.

Therefore in pollicie I thinke itgood

To hide it close: a goodly Stratagem,

And far from any man that is a foole.

So shall not I be knower, or if I bee,

They cannot take away my crowne from me.

Here will I hide it in this simple hole.

Enter Tamburlain.

Thou liest.

Away, I am the King: go, touch me not.

Thou breakst the law of Armes unlesse thou kneele,

And cry me mercie, noble King.

I marie am I: have you any suite to me?

So I can when I see my time.

I, Didst thou ever see a fairer?

Such another word, and I will have thee executed.

Come give it me.

You lie, I gave it you.

No, I meane, I let you keep it.

O Gods, is this Tamburlaine the thiefe,

Imarveile much he stole it not away.