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The Works of Christopher Marlowe

Tamburlaine Part 2

Act: 4 Scene: 1

Now in their glories shine the golden crownes

Of these proud Turks, much like so many suns

That halfe dismay the majesty of heaven:

Now brother, follow we our fathers sword,

That flies with fury swifter than our thoughts,

And cuts down armies with his conquering wings.

Brother, ho, what, given so much to sleep

You cannot leave it, when our enemies drums

And ratling cannons thunder in our eares.

Our proper ruine, and our fathers foile?

What, dar'st thou then be absent from the fight,

Knowing my father hates thy cowardice,

And oft hath warn'd thee to be stil in field,

When he himselfe amidst the thickest troopes

Beats downe our foes to flesh our taintlesse swords?

You wil not goe then?

Were all the lofty mounts of Zona mundi,

That fill the midst of farthest Tartary,

Turn'd into pearle and proffered for my stay,

I would not bide the furie of my father:

When made a victor in these hautie arms ,

He comes and findes his sonnes have had no shares

In all the honors he proposde for us.

Shal we let goe these kings again my Lord

To gather greater numbers gainst our power,

That they may say, it is not chance doth this,

But matchlesse strength and magnanimity?

Good my Lord, let him be forgiven for once,

And we wil force him to the field hereafter.