of the Persian crown,
Which gracious stars have promis'd at my birth.
A hundred Tartars shall attend on thee,
Mounted on steeds swifter than Pegasus;
Thy garments shall be made of Median silk,
Enchas'd with precious jewels of mine own,
More rich and valurous [38] than Zenocrate's;
With milk-white harts upon an ivory sled
Thou shalt be drawn amidst the frozen pools, [39]
And scale the icy mountains' lofty tops,
Which with thy beauty will be soon resolv'd: [40]
My martial prizes, with five hundred men,
Won on the fifty-headed Volga's waves,
Shall we all offer [41] to Zenocrate,
And then myself to fair Zenocrate.

TECHELLES. What now! in love?

TAMBURLAINE. Techelles, women must be flattered:
But this is she with whom I am in [42] love.

Enter a SOLDIER.

SOLDIER. News, news!

TAMBURLAINE. How now! what's the matter?

SOLDIER. A thousand Persian horsemen are at hand,
Sent from the king to overcome us all.

TAMBURLAINE. How now, my lords of Egypt, and Zenocrate!
Now must your jewels be restor'd again,
And I, that triumph'd [43] so, be overcome?
How say you, lordings? is not this your hope?

AGYDAS. We hope yourself will willingly restore them.

TAMBURLAINE. Such hope, such fortune, have the thousand horse.
Soft ye, my lords, and sweet Zenocrate!
You must be forced from me ere you go.--
A thousand horsemen! we five hundred foot!
An odds too great for us to stand against.
But are they rich? and is their armour good!

SOLDIER. Their plumed helms are wrought with beaten gold,
Their swords enamell'd, and about their necks
Hang massy chains of gold down to the waist;
In every part exceeding brave [44] and rich.

TAMBURLAINE. Then shall we fight courageously with them?
Or look you I should play the orator?

TECHELLES. No; cowards and faint-hearted runaways
Look for orations when the foe is near:
Our swords shall play the orators for us.

USUMCASANE. Come, let us meet them at the mountain-top, [45]
And with a sudden and an hot alarum
Drive all their horses headlong down the hill.

TECHELLES. Come, let us march.

TAMBURLAINE. Stay, Techelles; ask a parle first.

The SOLDIERS enter.

Open the mails, [46] yet guard the treasure sure:
Lay out our gold