SCENE II.

[_Enter_] MYCETES, MEANDER, _with other_ Lords _and_ Soldiers.

_Myc._ Come, my Meander, let us to this gear. I tell you true, my heart is swoln with wrath On this same thievish villain, Tamburlaine, And on that false Cosroe, my traitorous brother. Would it not grieve a king to be so abus’d 5 And have a thousand horsemen ta’en away? And, which is worst, to have his diadem Sought for by such scald[289] knaves as love him not? I think it would; well then, by Heavens I swear, Aurora shall not peep out of her doors, 10 But I will have Cosroe by the head, And kill proud Tamburlaine with point of sword. Tell you the rest, Meander; I have said.

_Meand._ Then having past Armenian deserts now, 14 And pitch’d our tents under the Georgian hills, Whose tops are covered with Tartarian thieves, That lie in ambush, waiting for a prey, What should we do but bid them battle straight, And rid the world of those detested troops? Lest, if we let them linger here awhile, 20 They gather strength by power of fresh supplies. This country swarms with vile outrageous men That live by rapine and by lawless spoil, Fit soldiers for the wicked Tamburlaine; And he that could with gifts and promises 25 Inveigle him that led a thousand horse, And make him false his faith unto his king, Will quickly win such as are like himself. Therefore cheer up your minds; prepare to fight; He that can take or slaughter Tamburlaine 30 Shall rule the province of Albania: Who brings that traitor’s head, Theridamas, Shall have a government in Media, Beside the spoil of him and all his train: But if Cosroe, (as our spials[290] say, 35 And as we know) remains with Tamburlaine, His highness’ pleasure is that he should live, And be reclaim’d with princely lenity.

[_Enter_ a Spy.]

_A Spy._ A hundred horsemen of my company Scouting abroad upon these champaign plains 40 Have view’d the army of the Scythians, Which make reports it far exceeds the king’s.

_Meand._ Suppose they be in number infinite, Yet being void of martial discipline All running headlong after greedy spoils, 45 And more regarding gain than victory, Like to the cruel brothers of the earth, Sprung of the teeth of dragons venomous, Their careless swords shall lance their fellows’ throats, And make us triumph in their overthrow. 50

_Myc._ Was there such brethren, sweet Meander, say, That sprung of teeth of dragons venomous?

_Meand._ So poets say, my lord.

_Myc._ And ’t is a pretty toy to be a poet. Well, well, Meander, thou art deeply read, 55 And having thee, I have a jewel sure. Go on, my lord, and give your charge, I say; Thy wit will make us conquerors to-day.

_Meand._ Then, noble soldiers, to entrap these thieves, That live confounded in disordered troops, 60 If wealth or riches may prevail with them, We have our camels laden all with gold, Which you that be but common soldiers Shall fling in every corner of the field; And while the base-born Tartars take it up, 65 You, fighting more for honour than for gold, Shall massacre those greedy-minded slaves; And when their scattered army is subdu’d, And you march on their slaughtered carcases, Share equally the gold that bought their lives, 70 And live like gentlemen in Persia. Strike up the drum and march courageously! Fortune herself doth sit upon our crests.

_Myc._ He tells you true, my masters: so he does. Drums, why sound ye not, when Meander speaks? 75 _Exeunt_ [_drums sounding_].