Bring out my foot-stoole.

The chiefest God, first moover of that Spheare

Enchac'd with thousands ever shining lamps,

Will sooner burne the glorious frame of Heaven,

Then it should so conspire my overthrow.

But Villaine, thou that wishest this to me,

Fall prostrate on the lowe disdainefull earth.

And be the foot-stoole of great Tamburlain,

That I may rise into my royall throne.

Base villain, vassall, slave to Tamburlaine:

Unworthy to imbrace or touch the ground,

That beares the honor of my royall weight.

Stoop villaine, stoope, stoope for so he bids,

That may command thee peecemeale to be tome,

Or scattered like the lofty Cedar trees,

Strooke with the voice of thundring Jupiter.

Now cleare the triple region of the aire,

And let the majestie of heaven beholde

Their Scourge and Terrour treade on Emperours.

Smile Stars that raign'd at my nativity,

And dim the brightnesse of their neighbor Lamps:

Disdaine to borrow light of Cynthia,

For I the chiefest Lamp of all the earth,

First rising in the East with milde aspect,

But fixed now in the Meridian line,

Will send up fire to your turning Spheares,

And cause the Sun to borrowe light of you.

My sword stroke fire from his coat of steele,

Even in Bythinia, when I took this Turke:

As when a fiery exhalation

Wrapt in the bowels of a freezing cloude,

Fighting for passage, makes the Welkin cracke,

And casts a flash of lightning to the earth.

But ere I martch to wealthy Persea,

Or leave Damascus and th'Egyptian fields,

As was the fame of Clymens brain-sicke sonne,

That almost brent the Axeltree of heaven,

So shall our swords, our lances and our shot,

Fill all the aire with fiery meteors.

Then when the Sky shal waxe as red as blood,

It shall be said, Imade it red my selfe,

To make me think of nought but blood and war.

Zenocrate, looke better to your slave.

Thy names and tytles, and thy dignities ,

Are fled from Bajazeth, and remaine with me,

That will maintaine it against a world of Kings.

Put him in againe.

There whiles he lives, shal Bajazeth be kept,

And where I goe be thus in triumph drawne:

And thou his wife shalt feed him with the scraps

My servitures shall bring the from my boord.

For he that gives him other food than this:

Shall sit by him and starve to death himselfe.

This is my minde, and I will have it so.

Not all the Kings and Emperours of the Earth:

If they would lay their crownes before my feet,

Shall ransome him, or take him from his cage.

The ages that shall talk of Tamburlain,

Even from this day to Platoes wondrous yeare,

Shall talke how I have handled Bajazeth

These Mores that drew him from Bythinia,

To faire Damascus, where we now remaine,

Shall lead him with us wheresoere we goe.

Techelles, and my loving followers,

Now may we see Damascus lofty towers,

Like to the shadowes of Pyramides,

That with their beauties grac'd the Memphion fields:

The golden stature of their feathered bird

That spreads her wings upon the citie wars,

Shall not defend it from our battering shot.

The townes-men maske in silke and cloath of gold,

And every house is as a treasurie.

The men, the treasure, and the towne is ours.

So shall he have his life, and all the rest.

But if he stay until the bloody flag

Be once advanc'd on my vermilion Tent,

He dies, and those that kept us out so long.

And when they see me march in black aray

With mournfull streamers hanging down their heads,

Were in that citie all the world contain'd,

Not one should scape: but perish by our swords.

Not for the world Zenocrate, if I have sworn:

Come bring in the Turke.

Now hang our bloody collours by Damascus ,

Reflexing hewes of blood upon their heads,

While they walke quivering on their citie walles,

Halfe dead for feare before they feele my wrath:

Then let us freely banquet and carouse

Full bowles of wine unto the God of war,

That meanes to fill your helmets full of golde:

And make Damascus spoiles as rich to you,

As was to Jason Colchos golden fleece.

And now Bajazeth, hast thou any stomacke?

Nay, thine owne is easier to come by, plucke out that, andtwil serve thee and thy wife: Wel Zenocrate, Techelles, and the rest, fall to your victuals.

To let them see (divine Zenocrate)）

I glorie in the curses of my foes,

Having the power from the Emperiall heaven,

To turne them al upon their proper heades.

Sirra, why fall you not too, are you so daintily brought up, you cannot eat your owne flesh?

O let him alone: here, eat sir, take it from my swords point, or Ile thrust it to thy heart.

Take it up Villaine , and eat it, or I will make thee slice the brawnes of thy armes into carbonadoes, and eat them.

Here is my dagger, dispatch her while she is fat, for if she live but a while longer, shee will fall into a con- sumption with freatting, and then she will not bee woorth the eating.

Go to, fal to your meat: what, not a bit? belike he hath not bene watered to day, give him some drinke. They give him water to drinke, and he flings it on the ground. Faste and welcome sir, while hunger make you eat. How now Zenocrate, dooth not the Turke and his wife make a goodly showe at a banquet?

Yet musicke woulde doe well to cheare up Zenocrate: pray thee tel, why art thou so sad? If thou wilt have a song, the Turke shall straine his voice: but why is it?

Zenocrate, were Egypt Joves owne land,

Yet would I with my sword make Jove to stoope.

I will confute those blind Geographers

That make a triple region in the world,

Excluding Regions which I meane to trace,

And with this pen reduce them to a Map,

Calling the Provinces, Citties and townes

After my name and shine Zenocrate:

Here at Damascus will I make the Point

That shall begin the Perpendicular.

And wouldst thou have me buy thy Fathers love

With such a losse? Tell me Zenocrate?

Content thy selfe, his person shall be safe,

And all the friendes of faire Zenocrate,

If with their lives they will be pleasde to yeeld,

Or may be forc'd, to make me Emperour.

For Egypt and Arabia must be mine.

Feede you slave, thou maist thinke thy selfe happie to be fed from my trencher.

Here Turk, wilt thou have a cleane trencher?

Soft sir, you must be dieted, too much eating will make you surfeit.

Theridamas, Techelles and Casane, here are the cates you desire to finger, are they not?

Wel, hereis now to the Souldane of Egypt , the King of Arabia, and the Governour of Damascus Now take these three crownes, and pledge me, my contributorie Kings. I crowne you here (Theridamas) King of Argier : Techelles King of Fesse, and Usumcasane King of Morocus. How say you to this (Turke) these are not your contributorie kings.

Kings of Argier, Morocus, and of Fesse ,

You that have martcht with happy Tamburlaine,

As far as from the frozen plage of heaven,

Unto the watry mornings ruddy bower ,

And thence by land unto the Torrid Zone,

Deserve these tytles I endow you with,

By valure and by magnanimity.

Your byrthes shall be no blemish to your fame,

For vertue is the fount whence honor springs.

And they are worthy she investeth kings.

Wel said Theridamas, when holy Fates

Shall stablish me in strong Egyptia ,

We meane to traveile to th' Antartique Pole,

Conquering the people underneath our feet.

And be renowm'd, as never Emperours were.

Zenocrate, I will not crowne thee yet,

Until with greater honors I be grac'd.