TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT, PART
TWO
A monologue from the
play by Christopher
Marlowe
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NOTE: This monologue is reprinted
from Masterpieces of the English Drama. Ed. William Lyon
Phelps. New York: American Book Company, 1912. |
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- TAMBURLAINE: Villain, art thou the son of Tamburlaine,
- And fear'st to die, or with a curtle-axe
- To hew thy flesh, and make a gaping wound?
- Has thou beheld a peal of ordnance strike
- A ring of pikes, mingled with shot and horse,
- Whose shatter'd limbs, being toss'd as high as heaven,
- Hang in the air as thick as sunny motes,
- And canst thou, coward, stand in fear of death?
- Hath thou not seen my horsemen charge the foe,
- Shot through the arms, cut overthwart the hands,
- Dying their lances with their streaming blood,
- And yet at night carouse within my tent,
- Filling their empty veins with airy wine,
- That, being concocted, turns to crimson blood,
- And wilt thou shun the field for fear of wounds?
- View me, thy father, that hath conquer'd kings,
- And, with his host, march'd round about the earth,
- Quite void of scars and clear from any wound,
- That by the wars lost not a drop of blood,
- And see him lance his flesh to teach you all.
- [He cuts his arm.]
- A wound is nothing, be it ne'er so deep;
- Blood is the god of war's rich livery.
- Now look I like a soldier, and this wound
- As great a grace and majesty to me,
- As if a chair of gold enamelled,
- Enchas'd with diamonds, sapphires, rubies,
- And fairest pearl of wealthy India,
- Were mounted here under a canopy,
- And I sat down, cloth'd with a massy robe
- That late adorn'd the Afric potentate,
- Whom I brought bound unto Damascus' walls.
- Come, boys, and with your fingers search my wound,
- And in my blood wash all your hands at once,
- While I sit smiling to behold the sight.
- Now, my boys, what think ye of a wound?
MORE MONOLOGUES BY CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE |
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