soul:
Come, let us march against the powers of heaven,
And set black streamers in the firmament,
To signify the slaughter of the gods.
Ah, friends, what shall I do? I cannot stand.
Come, carry me to war against the gods,
That thus envy the health of Tamburlaine.

THERIDAMAS. Ah, good my lord, leave these impatient words,
Which add much danger to your malady!

TAMBURLAINE. Why, shall I sit and languish in this pain?
No, strike the drums, and, in revenge of this,
Come, 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