Tamburlaine the Great Who, from a Scythian shephearde, by his rare and woonderfull conquests, became a most puissant and mightye monarque. And (for his tyranny, and terrour in warre) was tearmed, the scourge of God. Deuided into two tragicall discourses, as they were sundrie times shewed vpon stages in the citie of London. By the right honorable the Lord Admyrall, his seruauntes.

To the Battaile, and Mycetes comes out alone with his Crowne in his hand offering to hide it.

Myc.

Accurst be he that first inuented war, They knew not, ah, they knew not simple men, How those were hit by pelting Cannon shot, Stand staggering like a quiuering Aspen leafe, Fearing the force of Boreas boistrous blasts. In what a lamentable case were I, If Nature had not giuen me wisedomes lore? For Kings are clouts that euery man shoots at, Our Crowne the pin that thousands seeke to cleaue, Therefore in pollicie I thinke it good To hide it close: a goodly Stratagem, And far from any man that is a foole. So shall not I be knowen, or if I bee, They cannot take away my crowne from me. Here will I hide it in this simple hole.

Enter Tamburlain.

tam.

What fearful coward stragling from the camp When Kings themselues are present in the field.

Myc.

Thou liest.

tam.

Base villaine, darst thou giue the lie?

Myc.

Away, I am the King: go, touch me not.

[unspec B6v] Thou breakst the law of Armes vnlesse thou kneele. And cry me mercie, noble King.

Tam

Are you the witty King of Persea?

Myce.

I marie am I: haue you any suite to me?

Tam.

I would intreat you to speak but three wise wordes.

Myce.

So I can when I see my time.

Tam.

Is this your Crowne?

Myce.

I, Didst thou euer see a fairer?

Tamb.

You will not sell it, wil ye?

Myce.

Such another word, and I, will haue thee executed. Come giue it me.

Tamb.

No, I tooke it prisoner.

Myce.

You lie, I gaue it you.

tam.

Then tis mine.

Myce.

No, I meane, I let you keep it.

tamb.

Wel, I meane you shall haue it againe. Here take it for a while, I lend it thee, Till I may see thee hem'd with armed men. Then shalt thou see me pull it from thy head: Thou art no match for mightie Tamburlaine.

Myce.

O Gods, is this tamburlaine the thiefe, I marueile much he stole it not away.

Sound trumpets to the battell, and he runs in.