Act II, Scene ii

[Enter] ORCANES, GAZELLUS, URIBASSA, with their train

ORCANES

 

Gazellus, Uribassa, and the rest,

 

Now will we march from proud Orminius’ mount

 

To fair Natolia, where our neighbour kings

 

Expect our power and our royal presence

 

T’encounter with the cruel Tamburlaine,

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That nigh Larissa sways a mighty host

 

And with the thunder of his martial tools

 

Makes earthquakes in the hearts of men and heaven.

 

GAZELLUS

 

And now come we to make his sinews shake

 

With greater power than erst his pride hath felt–

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An hundred kings by scores will bid him arms,

 

And hundred thousands subjects to each score:

 

Which if a shower of wounding thunderbolts

 

Should break out of the bowels of the clouds

 

And fall as thick as hail upon our heads

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In partial aid of that proud Scythian,

 

Yet should our courages and steelèd crests

 

And numbers more than infinite of men

 

Be able to withstand and conquer him.

 

URIBASSA

 

Methinks I see how glad the Christian king

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Is made for joy of your admitted truce,

 

That could not but before be terrified

 

With unacquainted power of our host.

 

Enter a MESSENGER

MESSENGER

 

Arm, dread sovereign and my noble lords!

 

The treacherous army of the Christians,

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Taking advantage of your slender power,

 

Comes marching on us and determines straight

 

To bid us battle for our dearest lives.

 

ORCANES

 

Traitors, villains, damnèd Christians!

 

Have I not here the articles of peace

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And solemn covenants we have both confirmed,

 

He by his Christ, and I by Mahomet?

 

GAZELLUS

 

Hell and confusion light upon their heads

 

That with such treason seek our overthrow,

 

And cares so little for their prophet Christ!

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ORCANES

 

Can there be such deceit in Christians,

 

Or treason in the fleshly heart of man,

 

Whose shape is figure of the highest God?

 

Then if there be a Christ, as Christians say,

 

But in their deeds deny him for their Christ,

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If he be son to everliving Jove

 

And hath the power of his outstretched arm,

 

If he be jealous of his name and honour

 

As is our holy prophet Mahomet,

 

Take here these papers as our sacrifice

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And witness of thy servant’s perjury.

 

[He tears up the articles of peace]

Open, thou shining veil of Cynthia,

 

And make a passage from th’empyreal heaven,

 

That he that sits on high and never sleeps,

 

Nor in one place is circumscriptible,

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But everywhere fills every continent

 

With strange infusion of his sacred vigour,

 

May in his endless power and purity

 

Behold and venge this traitor’s perjury.

 

Thou Christ that art esteemed omnipotent,

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If thou wilt prove thyself a perfect God

 

Worthy the worship of all faithful hearts,

 

Be now revenged upon this traitor’s soul

 

And make the power I have left behind

 

(Too little to defend our guiltless lives)

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Sufficient to discomfort and confound

 

The trustless force of those false Christians.

 

To arms, my lords, on Christ still let us cry –

 

If there be Christ, we shall have victory.

[Exeunt]