Tamburlaine the Great Volume I Part 12

And tells for truth submission [255] comes too late?

FIRST VIRGIN. Most happy king and emperor of the earth, Image of honour and n.o.bility, For whom the powers divine have made the world, And on whose throne the holy Graces sit; In whose sweet person is compris'd the sum Of Nature's skill and heavenly majesty; Pity our plights! O, pity poor Damascus!

Pity old age, within whose silver hairs Honour and reverence evermore have reign'd!

Pity the marriage-bed, where many a lord, In prime and glory of his loving joy, Embraceth now with tears of ruth and [256] blood The jealous body of his fearful wife, Whose cheeks and hearts, so punish'd with conceit, [257]

To think thy puissant never-stayed arm Will part their bodies, and prevent their souls From heavens of comfort yet their age might bear, Now wax all pale and wither'd to the death, As well for grief our ruthless governor Hath [258] thus refus'd the mercy of thy hand, (Whose sceptre angels kiss and Furies dread,) As for their liberties, their loves, or lives!

O, then, for these, and such as we ourselves, For us, for infants, and for all our bloods, That never nourish'd [259] thought against thy rule, Pity, O, pity, sacred emperor, The prostrate service of this wretched town; And take in sign thereof this gilded wreath, Whereto each man of rule hath given his hand, And wish'd, [260] as worthy subjects, happy means To be investers of thy royal brows Even with the true Egyptian diadem!

TAMBURLAINE. Virgins, in vain you labour to prevent That which mine honour swears shall be perform'd.

Behold my sword; what see you at the point?

FIRST VIRGIN. Nothing but fear and fatal steel, my lord.

TAMBURLAINE. Your fearful minds are thick and misty, then, For there sits Death; there sits imperious [261] Death, Keeping his circuit by the slicing edge.

But I am pleas'd you shall not see him there; He now is seated on my hors.e.m.e.n's spears, And on their points his fleshless body feeds.-- Tech.e.l.les, straight go charge a few of them To charge these dames, and shew my servant Death, Sitting in scarlet on their armed spears.

VIRGINS. O, pity us!

TAMBURLAINE. Away with them, I say, and shew them Death!

[The VIRGINS are taken out by TECh.e.l.lES and others.]

I will not spare these proud Egyptians, Nor change my martial observations For all the wealth of Gihon's golden waves, Or for the love of Venus, would she leave The angry G.o.d of arms and lie with me.

They have refus'd the offer of their lives, And know my customs are as peremptory As wrathful planets, death, or destiny.

Re-enter TECh.e.l.lES.

What, have your hors.e.m.e.n shown the virgins Death?

TECh.e.l.lES. They have, my lord, and on Damascus' walls Have hoisted up their slaughter'd carca.s.ses.

TAMBURLAINE. A sight as baneful to their souls, I think, As are Thessalian drugs or mithridate: But go, my lords, put the rest to the sword.

[Exeunt all except TAMBURLAINE.]

Ah, fair Zenocrate!--divine Zenocrate!

Fair is too foul an epithet for thee,-- That in thy pa.s.sion [262] for thy country's love, And fear to see thy kingly father's harm, With hair dishevell'd wip'st thy watery cheeks; And, like to Flora in her morning's pride, Shaking her silver tresses in the air, Rain'st on the earth resolved [263] pearl in showers, And sprinklest sapphires on thy s.h.i.+ning face, Where Beauty, mother to the Muses, sits, And comments volumes with her ivory pen, Taking instructions from thy flowing eyes; Eyes, when that Ebena steps to heaven, [264]

In silence of thy solemn evening's walk, Making the mantle of the richest night, The moon, the planets, and the meteors, light; There angels in their crystal armours fight [265]

A doubtful battle with my tempted thoughts For Egypt's freedom and the Soldan's life, His life that so consumes Zenocrate; Whose sorrows lay more siege unto my soul Than all my army to Damascus' walls; And neither Persia's [266] sovereign nor the Turk Troubled my senses with conceit of foil So much by much as doth Zenocrate.

What is beauty, saith my sufferings, then?

If all the pens that ever poets held Had fed the feeling of their masters' thoughts, And every sweetness that inspir'd their hearts, Their minds, and muses on admired themes; If all the heavenly quintessence they still [267]

From their immortal flowers of poesy, Wherein, as in a mirror, we perceive The highest reaches of a human wit; If these had made one poem's period, And all combin'd in beauty's worthiness, Yet should there hover in their restless heads One thought, one grace, one wonder, at the least, Which into words no virtue can digest.

But how unseemly is it for my s.e.x, My discipline of arms and chivalry, My nature, and the terror of my name, To harbour thoughts effeminate and faint!

Save only that in beauty's just applause, With whose instinct the soul of man is touch'd; And every warrior that is rapt with love Of fame, of valour, and of victory, Must needs have beauty beat on his conceits: I thus conceiving, [268] and subduing both, That which hath stoop'd the chiefest of the G.o.ds, Even from the fiery-spangled veil of heaven, To feel the lovely warmth of shepherds' flames, And mask in cottages of strowed reeds, Shall give the world to note, for all my birth, That virtue solely is the sum of glory, And fas.h.i.+ons men with true n.o.bility.-- Who's within there?

Enter ATTENDANTS.

Hath Bajazeth been fed to-day?

ATTEND. [269] Ay, my lord.

TAMBURLAINE. Bring him forth; and let us know if the town be ransacked.

[Exeunt ATTENDANTS.]

Enter TECh.e.l.lES, THERIDAMAS, USUMCASANE, and others.

TECh.e.l.lES. The town is ours, my lord, and fresh supply Of conquest and of spoil is offer'd us.

TAMBURLAINE. That's well, Tech.e.l.les. What's the news?

TECh.e.l.lES. The Soldan and the Arabian king together March on us with [270] such eager violence As if there were no way but one with us. [271]

TAMBURLAINE. No more there is not, I warrant thee, Tech.e.l.les.

ATTENDANTS bring in BAJAZETH in his cage, followed by ZABINA.

Exeunt ATTENDANTS.

THERIDAMAS. We know the victory is ours, my lord; But let us save the reverend Soldan's life For fair Zenocrate that so laments his state.

TAMBURLAINE. That will we chiefly see unto, Theridamas, For sweet Zenocrate, whose worthiness Deserves a conquest over every heart.-- And now, my footstool, if I lose the field, You hope of liberty and rest.i.tution?-- Here let him stay, my masters, from the tents, Till we have made us ready for the field.-- Pray for us, Bajazeth; we are going.

[Exeunt all except BAJAZETH and ZABINA.]

BAJAZETH. Go, never to return with victory!

Millions of men encompa.s.s thee about, And gore thy body with as many wounds!

Sharp forked arrows light upon thy horse!

Furies from the black Cocytus' lake, Break up the earth, and with their fire-brands Enforce thee run upon the baneful pikes!

Vollies of shot pierce through thy charmed skin, And every bullet dipt in poison'd drugs!

Or roaring cannons sever all thy joints, Making thee mount as high as eagles soar!

ZABINA. Let all the swords and lances in the field Stick in his breast as in their proper rooms!

At every pore [272] let blood come dropping forth, That lingering pains may ma.s.sacre his heart, And madness send his d.a.m.ned soul to h.e.l.l!

BAJAZETH. Ah, fair Zabina! we may curse his power, The heavens may frown, the earth for anger quake; But such a star hath influence in [273] his sword As rules the skies and countermands the G.o.ds More than Cimmerian Styx or Destiny: And then shall we in this detested guise, With shame, with hunger, and with horror stay, [274]

Griping our bowels with retorqued [275] thoughts, And have no hope to end our ecstasies.

ZABINA. Then is there left no Mahomet, no G.o.d, No fiend, no fortune, nor no hope of end To our infamous, monstrous slaveries.

Gape, earth, and let the fiends infernal view A [276] h.e.l.l as hopeless and as full of fear As are the blasted banks of Erebus, Where shaking ghosts with ever-howling groans Hover about the ugly ferryman, To get a pa.s.sage to Elysium! [277]

Why should we live?--O, wretches, beggars, slaves!-- Why live we, Bajazeth, and build up nests So high within the region of the air, By living long in this oppression, That all the world will see and laugh to scorn The former triumphs of our mightiness In this obscure infernal servitude?

BAJAZETH. O life, more loathsome to my vexed thoughts [278]

Than noisome parbreak [279] of the Stygian snakes, Which fills the nooks of h.e.l.l with standing air, Infecting all the ghosts with cureless griefs!

O dreary engines of my loathed sight, That see my crown, my honour, and my name Thrust under yoke and thraldom of a thief, Why feed ye still on day's accursed beams, And sink not quite into my tortur'd soul?

You see my wife, my queen, and emperess, Brought up and propped by the hand of Fame, Queen of fifteen contributory queens, Now thrown to rooms of black abjection, [280]

Smeared with blots of basest drudgery, And villainess [281] to shame, disdain, and misery.

Accursed Bajazeth, whose words of ruth, [282]

That would with pity cheer Zabina's heart, And make our souls resolve [283] in ceaseless tears, Sharp hunger bites upon and gripes the root From whence the issues of my thoughts do break!

O poor Zabina! O my queen, my queen!

Fetch me some water for my burning breast, To cool and comfort me with longer date, That, in the shorten'd sequel of my life, I may pour forth my soul into thine arms With words of love, whose moaning intercourse Hath hitherto been stay'd with wrath and hate Of our expressless bann'd [284] inflictions.

ZABINA. Sweet Bajazeth, I will prolong thy life As long as any blood or spark of breath Can quench or cool the torments of my grief.