Front Page Titles (by Subject) SCENE II. - The Works of Christopher Marlowe vol. 1
SCENE II. - Christopher Marlowe, The Works of Christopher Marlowe vol. 1 
The Works of Christopher Marlowe, ed. A.H. Bullen (London: John C. Nimmo, 1885). Vol. 1.
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EnterTamburlaine, withUsumcasane, and his three Sons; four Attendants bearing the hearse ofZeno-Crate, and the drums sounding a doleful march; tht town burning.
- So burn the turrets of this cursèd town,
- Flame to the highest region of the air,
- And kindle heaps of exhalations,
- That being fiery meteors may presage
- Death and destruction to the inhabitants!
- Over my zenith hang a blazing star,
- That may endure till heaven be dissolved,
- Fed with the fresh supply of earthly dregs,
- Threatening a dearth and famine to this land!
- Flying dragons, lightning, fearful thunderclaps,
- Singe these fair plains and make them seem as black
- As is the island where the Furies mask,
- Compassed with Lethe, Styx, and Phlegethon,
- Because my dear's! Zenocrate is dead.
- This pillar, placed in memory of her, Where in Arabian, Hebrew, Greek, is writ:—
- This town, being burnt by Tamburlaine the Great,
- Forbids the world to build it up again,
- And here this mournful streamer shall be placed,
- Wrought with the Persian and th' Egyptian arms,
- To signify she was a princess born,
- And wife unto the monarch of the East.
- And here this table as a register
- Of all her virtues and perfections.
- And here the picture of Zenocrate,
- To show her beauty which the world admired;
- Sweet picture of divine Zenocrate,
- That, hanging here, will draw the gods from heaven,
- And cause the stars fixed in the southern arc,
- (Whose lovely faces never any viewed
- That have not passed the centre's latitude,)
- As pilgrims, travel to our hemisphere,
- Only to gaze upon Zenocrate.
- Thou shalt not beautify Larissa plains,
- But keep within the circle of mine arms.
- At every town and castle I besiege,
- Thou shalt be set upon my royal tent;
- And when I meet an army in the field,
- Those looks will shed such influence in my camp
- As if Bellona, goddess of the war,
- Threw naked swords and sulphur-balls of fire
- Upon the heads of all our enemies.
- And now, my lords, advance your spears again:
- Sorrow no more, my sweet Casane, now;
- Boys, leave to mourn! this town shall ever mourn,
- Being burnt to cinders for your mother's death.
- If I had wept a sea of tears for her,
- It would not ease the sorrows I sustain.
- As is that town, so is my heart consumed
- With grief and sorrow for my mother's death.
- My mother's death hath mortified my mind,
- And sorrow stops the passage of my speech.
- But now, my boys, leave off and list to me,
- That mean to teach you rudiments of war;
- I'll have you learn to sleep upon the ground,
- March in your armour thorough watery fens,
- Sustain the scorching heat and freezing cold,
- Hunger and thirst, right adjuncts of the war,
- And after this to scale a castle wall,
- Besiege a fort, to undermine a town,
- And make whole cities caper in the air.
- Then next the way to fortify your men;
- In champion grounds, what figure serves you best,
- For which the quinque-angle form is meet,
- Because the corners there may fall more flat
- Whereas the fort may fittest be assailed,
- And sharpest where the assault is desperate.
- The ditches must be deep; the counterscarps
- Narrow and steep; the walls made high and broad;
- The bulwarks and the rampires large and strong,
- With cavalieros and thick counterforts,
- And room within to lodge six thousand men.
- It must have privy ditches, countermines,
- And secret issuings to defend the ditch;
- It must have high argins and covered ways,
- To keep the bulwark fronts from battery,
- And parapets to hide the musketers;
- Casemates to place the great artillery;
- And store of ordnance, that from every flank
- May scour the outward curtains of the fort,
- Dismount the cannon of the adverse part,
- Murder the foe, and save the walls from breach.
- When this is learned for service on the land,
- By plain and easy demonstration
- I'll teach you how to make the water mount,
- That you may dry-foot march through lakes and
- Deep rivers, havens, creeks, and little seas,
- And make a fortress in the raging waves,
- Fenced with the concave of a monstrous rock,
- Invincible by nature of the place.
- When this is done, then are ye soldiers,
- And worthy sons of Tamburlaine the Great.
- My lord, but this is dangerous to be done;
- We may be slain or wounded ere we learn.
- Villain! Art thou the son of Tamburlaine,
- And fear'st to die, or with the curtle-axe
- To hew thy flesh, and make a gaping wound?
- Hast thou beheld a peal of ordnance strike
- A ring of pikes, mingled with shot and horse,
- Whose shattered limbs, being tossed as high as heaven,
- Hang in the air as thick as sunny motes,
- And canst thou, coward, stand in fear of death?
- Hast thou not seen my horsemen charge the foe,
- Shot through the arms, cut overthwart the hands,
- Dyeing their lances with their streaming blood,
- And yet at night carouse within my tent,
- Filling their empty veins with airy wine,
- That, being concocted, turns to crimson blood,
- And wilt thou shun the field for fear of wounds?
- View me, thy father, that hath conquered kings,
- And, with his horse, marched round about the earth,
- Quite void of scars, and clear from any wound,
- That by the wars lost not a drop of blood,
- And see him lanch his flesh to teach you all
- He cuts his arm.
- A wound is nothing, be it ne'er so deep;
- Blood is the god of war's rich livery.
- Now look I like a soldier, and this wound
- As great a grace and majesty to me,
- As if a chain of gold, enamellèd,
- Enchased with diamonds, sapphires, rubies,
- And fairest pearl of wealthy India,
- Were mounted here under a canopy,
- And I sate down clothed with a massy robe,
- That late adorned the Afric potentate,
- Whom I brought bound unto Damascus walls.
- Come, boys, and with your fingers search my wound,
- And in my blood wash all your hands at once,
- While I sit smiling to behold the sight.
- Now, my boys, what think ye of a wound?
- I know not what I should think of it; methinks it is a pitiful sight.
- This? nothing: give me a wound, father.
- Come, sirrah, give me your arm.
- Here, father, cut it bravely, as you did your own.
- It shall suffice thou darest abide a wound;
- My boy, thou shalt not lose a drop of blood
- Before we meet the army of the Turk;
- But then run desperate through the thickest throngs,
- Dreadless of blows, of bloody wounds, and death;
- And let the burning of Larissa walls,
- My speech of war, and this my wound you see,
- Teach you, my boys, to bear courageous minds,
- Fit for the followers of Great Tamburlaine!
- Usumcasane, now come let us march
- Towards Techelles and Theridamas,
- That we have sent before to fire the towns
- The towers and cities of these hateful Turks,
- And hunt that coward, faint-heart runaway,
- With that accursèd traitor Almeda,
- Till fire and sword have found them at a bay.
- I long to pierce his bowels with my sword,
- That hath betrayed my gracious sovereign,—
- That cursèd and damned traitor Almeda.
- Then let us see if coward Callapine
- Dare levy arms against our puissance,
- That we may tread upon his captive neck,
- And treble all his father's slaveries.