But Lady goe with us to Tamburlaine,
And thou shalt see a man greater than Mahomet
,
In whose high lookes is much more majesty
Than from the Concave superficies,
Of Joves vast pallace the imperiall Orbe,
Unto the shining bower where Cynthia sits,
Like lovely Thetis in a Christall robe:
That treadeth Fortune underneath his feete,
And makes the mighty God of armes his slave:
On whom death and the fatall sisters waite,
With naked swords and scarlet liveries:
Before whom (mounted on a Lions backe)
Rhamnusia beares a helmet ful of blood,
And strowes the way with braines of slaughtered men:
By whose proud side the ugly furies run,
Harkening when he shall bid them plague the world.
Over whose Zenith cloth'd in windy aire,
And Eagles wings join'd to her feathered breast,
Fame hovereth, sounding of her golden Trumpe:
That to the adverse poles of that straight line,
Which measureth the glorious frame of heaven,
The name of mightie Tamburlain is spread:
And him faire Lady shall thy eies behold.
Come.
