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The Works of Christopher Marlowe

Wretched Zenocrate, that livest to see,

Damascus walles di'd with Egyptian blood:

Thy Frathers subjects and thy countrimen.

Thy streetes strowed with dissevered jointes of men,

And wounded bodies gasping yet for life.

But most accurst, to see the Sun-bright troope

Of heavenly vyrgins and unspotted maides,

Whose lookes might make the angry God of armes,

To breake his sword, and mildly treat of love,

On horsmens Lances to be hoisted up,

And guiltlesly endure a quell death.

Eor every fell and stout Tartarian Stead

That stamps on others with their thundring hooves,

When al their riders chardg'd their quivering speares

Began to checke the ground, and rain themselves:

Gazing upon the beautie of their lookes:

Ah Tamburlaine, wert thou the cause of this

That tearm'st Zenocrate thy dearest love?

Whose lives were dearer to Zenocrate

Than her owne life, or ought save shine owne love.

But see another bloody spectacle.

Ah wretched eies, the enemies of my hart,

How are ye glutted with these grievous objects,

And tell my soule mor tales of bleeding rush?

See, se Anippe if they breathe or no.

Earth cast up fountaines from thy entralles,

And wet thy cheeks for their untimely deathes:

Shake with their weight in signe of feare and griefe:

Blush heaven, that gave them honor at their birth,

And let them die a death so barbarous.

Those that are proud of fickle Empery,

And place their chiefest good in earthly pompe:

Behold the Turke and his great Emperesse.

Ah Tamburlaine, my love, sweet Tamburlaine,

That fights for Scepters and for slippery crownes,

Behold the Turk and his great Emperesse.

Thou that in conduct of thy happy stars,

Sleep'st every night with conquest on thy browes,

And yet wouldst shun the wavering turnes of war ,

In feare and feeling of the like distresse,

Behold the Turke and his great Emperesse.

Ah myghty Jove and holy Mahomet,

Pardon my Love, oh pardon his contempt,

Of earthly fortune, and respect of pitie,

And let not conquest ruthlesly pursewde

Be equally against his life incenst,

In this great Turk and haplesse Emperesse.

And pardon me that was not moov'd with ruthe,

To see them live so long in misery:

Ah what may chance to thee Zenocrate?

What other heavie news now brings Philemus?

Now shame and duty, love and feare presents

A thousand sorrowes to my martyred soule:

Whom should I wish the fatall victory,

When my poore pleasures are devided thus,

And racks by dutie from my cursed heart:

My father and my first betrothed love,

Must fight against my life and present love:

Wherin the change I use condemns my faith,

And makes my deeds infamous through the world.

But as the Gods to end the Troyans toile,

Prevented Turnus of Lavinia ,

And fatally enricht Eneas love.

So for a finall Issue to my griefes,

Topacifie my countrie and my love,

Must Tamburlaine by their resistlesse powers,

With vertue of a gentle victorie,

Conclude a league of honor to my hope.

Then as the powers devine have preordainde.

With happy safty of my fathers life,

Send like defence of faire Arabia.

Too deare a witnesse for such love my Lord.

Behold Zenocrate, the cursed object

Whose Fortunes never mastered her griefs:

Behold her wounded in conceit for thee,

As much as thy faire body is for me.

O sight thrice welcome to my joiful soule,

To see the king my Father issue safe,

From dangerous batter of my conquering Love.

Els should I much forget my self, my Lord.

Tamburlaine Part 1