of great Arabia, Be so persuaded that the Soldan is No more dismay'd with tidings of his fall, Than in the haven when the pilot stands, And views a stranger's ship rent in the winds, And shivered against a craggy rock: Yet in compassion to his wretched state, A sacred vow to heaven and him I make, Confirming it with Ibis' holy name, 219 That Tamburlaine shall rue the day, the 220 hour, Wherein he wrought such ignominious wrong Unto the hallow'd person of a prince, Or kept the fair Zenocrate so long, As concubine, I fear, to feed his lust. KING OF ARABIA. Let grief and fury hasten on revenge; Let Tamburlaine for his offences feel Such plagues as heaven and we can pour on him: I long to break my spear upon his crest, And prove the weight of his victorious arm; For fame, I fear, hath been too prodigal In sounding through the world his partial praise. SOLDAN. Capolin, hast thou survey'd our powers? CAPOLIN. Great emperors of Egypt and Arabia, The number of your hosts united is, A hundred and fifty thousand horse, Two hundred thousand foot, brave men-at-arms, Courageous and 221 full of hardiness, As frolic as the hunters in the chase Of savage beasts amid the desert woods. KING OF ARABIA. My mind presageth fortunate success; And, Tamburlaine, my spirit doth foresee The utter ruin of thy men and thee. SOLDAN. Then rear your standards; let your sounding drums Direct our soldiers to Damascus' walls.— Now, Tamburlaine, the mighty Soldan comes, And leads with him the great Arabian king, To dim thy baseness and 222 obscurity, Famous for nothing but for theft and spoil; To raze and scatter thy inglorious crew Of Scythians and slavish Persians. [Exeunt.]
SCENE IV.
A banquet set out; and to it come TAMBURLAINE all in scarlet, ZENOCRATE, THERIDAMAS, TECHELLES, USUMCASANE, BAJAZETH drawn in his cage, ZABINA, and others. TAMBURLAINE. Now hang our bloody colours by Damascus, Reflexing hues of blood upon their heads, While they walk quivering on their city-walls, Half-dead for fear before they feel my wrath. Then let us freely banquet, and carouse Full bowls of wine unto the god of war, That means to fill your helmets full of gold, And make Damascus' spoils as rich to you As was to Jason Colchos' golden fleece.— And now, Bajazeth, hast thou any stomach? BAJAZETH. Ay, such a stomach, cruel Tamburlaine, as I could
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