let us charge our spears, and pierce his breast Whose shoulders bear 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 hither straight, To cure me, or I'll fetch him down myself. TECHELLES. Sit still, my gracious lord; this grief will cease, 302 And cannot last, it is so violent. TAMBURLAINE. Not last, Techelles! no, for I shall die. See, where my slave, the ugly monster Death, Shaking and quivering, pale and wan for fear, Stands aiming at me with his murdering dart, Who flies away at every glance I give, And, when I look away, comes stealing on!—      Villain, away, and hie thee to the field! I and mine army come to load thy back With souls of thousand mangled carcasses.—      Look, where he goes! but, see, he comes again, Because I stay! Techelles, let us march, And weary Death with bearing souls to hell. FIRST PHYSICIAN. Pleaseth your majesty to drink this potion, Which will abate the fury of your fit, And cause some milder spirits govern you. TAMBURLAINE. Tell me what think you of my sickness now? FIRST PHYSICIAN. I view'd your urine, and the hypostasis, 303 Thick and obscure, doth make your danger great:      Your veins are full of accidental heat, Whereby the moisture of your blood is dried:      The humidum and calor, which some hold Is not a parcel of the elements, But of a substance more divine and pure, Is almost clean extinguished and spent; Which, being the cause of life, imports your death:      Besides, my lord, this day is critical, Dangerous to those whose crisis is as yours:      Your artiers, 304 which alongst the veins convey The lively spirits which the heart engenders, Are parch'd and void of spirit, that the soul, Wanting those organons by which it moves, Cannot endure, by argument of art. Yet, if your majesty may escape this day, No doubt but you shall soon recover all.       TAMBURLAINE. Then will I comfort all my vital parts, And live, in spite of death, above a day.           [Alarms within.]            Enter a Messenger. MESSENGER. My lord, young Callapine, that lately fled from your majesty, hath now gathered a fresh army, and, hearing your absence in the field, offers to set upon 305 us presently. TAMBURLAINE. See, my physicians, now, how Jove hath sent A present medicine to recure my pain! My looks shall make them fly; and, might I follow, There should not one of all the villain's power Live to give offer of another fight. USUMCASANE. I joy, my lord, your highness is so strong, That can 

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