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The Works of Christopher Marlowe

What daring God torments my body thus,

And seeks to conquer mighty Tamburlaine,

Shall sicknesse proove me now to be a man,

That have bene tearm'd the terrour of the world?

Techelles and the rest, come take your swords,

And threaten him whose hand afflicts my soul,

Come let us march against the powers of heaven,

And set blacke streamers in the firmament,

To signifie the slaughter of the Gods.

Ah friends, what shal I doe, I cannot stand,

Come carie me to war against the Gods,

That thus invie the health of Tamburlaine.

Why, shal I sit and languish in this paine?

No, strike the drums, and in revenge of this,

Come let us chardge our speares and pierce his breast,

Whose shoulders beare the Axis of the world,

That if I perish, heaven and earth may fade.

Theridamas, haste to the court of Jove,

Will him to send Apollo hether straight,

To cure me, or Ile fetch him downe my selfe.

Not last Techelles, no, for I shall die.

See where my slave, the uglie monster death

Shaking and quivering, pale and wan for feare,

Stands aiming at me with his murthering dart,

Who flies away at every glance I give,

And when I look away, comes stealing on:

Villaine away, and hie thee to the field,

I and myne armie come to lode thy barke

With soules of thousand mangled carkasses.

Looke where he goes, but see, he comes againe

Because I stay: Techelles let us march,

And weary Death with bearing soules to hell.

Tel me, what think you of my sicknes now?

Then will I comfort all my vital parts,

And live in spight of death above a day.

See my Phisitions now, how Jove hath sent

A present medicine to recure my paine:

My looks shall make them flie, and might I follow,

There should not one of all the villaines power

Live to give offer of another fight.

I know it wil Casane: draw you slaves,

In spight of death I will goe show my face.

Alarme, Tamburlaine goes in, and comes out againe with al the rest.

Thus are the villaines, cowards fled for feare,

Like Summers vapours, vanisht by the Sun.

And could I but a while pursue the field,

That Callapine should be my slave againe.

But I perceive my martial strength is spent,

In vaine I strive and raile against those powers,

That meane t'invest me in a higher throane,

As much too high for this disdainfull earth.

Give me a Map, then let me see how much

Is left for me to conquer all the world,

That these my boies may finish all my wantes.

One brings a Map.

Here I began to martch towards Persea,

Along Armenia and the Caspian sea,

And thence unto Bythinia, where I tooke

The Turke and his great Empresse prisoners,

Then martcht I into Egypt and Aralia,

And here not far from Alexandria,

Whereas the Terren and the red sea meet,

Being distant lesse than ful a hundred leagues,

I meant to cut a channell to them both,

That men might quickly saile to India.

From thence to Nubia neere Borno Lake,

And so along the Ethiopian sea,

Cutting the Tropicke line of Capricorne,

I conquered all as far as Zansibar .

Then by the Northerne part of Affrica ,

I came at last to Graecia, and from thence

To Asia, where I stay against my will,

Which is from Scythia, where I first began,

Backeward and forwards nere five thousand leagues.

Looke here my boies, see what a world of ground,

Lies westward from the midst of Cancers line,

Unto the rising of this earthly globe,

Whereas the Sun declining from our sight,

Begins the day with our Antypodes:

And shall I die, and this unconquered?

Loe here my sonnes, are all the golden Mines,

Inestimable drugs and precious stones,

More worth than Asia, and the world beside,

And from th'Antartique Pole, Eastward behold

As much more land, which never was descried,

Wherein are rockes of Pearle, that shine as bright

As all the Lamps that beautifie the Sky,

And shal I die, and this unconquered?

Here lovely boies, what death forbids my life,

That let your lives commaund in spight of death.

But sons, this subject not of force enough,

To hold the fiery spirit it containes,

Must part, imparting his impressions,

By equall portions into both your breasts:

My flesh devided in your precious shapes,

Shal still retaine my spirit, though I die,

And live in all your seedes immortally:

Then now remoove me, that I may resigne

My place and proper tytle to my sonne:

First take my Scourge and my imperiall Crowne, [To Amyras.]

And mount my royall chariot of estate,

That I may see thee crown'd before I die.

Help me (my Lords) to make my last remoove.

Sit up my sonne, let me see how well

Thou wilt become thy fathers majestie.

Let not thy love exceed thyne honor sonne,

Nor bar thy mind that magnanimitie,

That nobly must admit necessity:

Sit up my boy, and with those silken raines,

Bridle the steeled stomackes of those Jades.

Now fetch the hearse of faire Zenocrate,

Let it be plac'd by this my fatall chaire,

And serve as parcell of my funerall.

Casane no, the Monarke of the earth,

And eielesse Monster that torments my soule,

Cannot behold the teares ye shed for me,

And therefore stil augments his cruelty.

Now eies, injoy your latest benefite,

And when my soule hath vertue of your sight,

Pierce through the coffin and the sheet of gold,

And glut your longings with a heaven of joy.

So, raigne my sonne, scourge and controlle those slaves,

Guiding thy chariot with thy Fathers hand.

As precious is the charge thou undertak'st

As that which Clymens brainsicke sonne did guide,

When wandring Phœbes Ivory cheeks were scortcht

And all the earth like Aetna breathing fire:

Be warn'd by him then, learne with awfull eie

To sway a throane as dangerous as his:

For if thy body thrive not full of thoughtes

As pure and fiery as Phyteus beames,

The nature of these proud rebelling Jades

Wil take occasion by the slenderest haire,

And draw thee peecemeale like Hyppolitus,

Through rocks more steepe and sharp than Caspian cliftes.

The nature of thy chariot wil not beare

A guide of baser temper than my selfe,

More then heavens coach, the pride of Phaeton.

Farewel my boies, my dearest friends, farewel,

My body feeles, my soule dooth weepe to see

Your sweet desires depriv'd my company,

For Tamburlaine, the Scourge of God must die.

Tamburlaine Part 2