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CALYPHAS, AMYRAS, and CELEBINUS, with drums and trumpets.

TAMBURLAINE. Now, bright Zenocrate, the world's fair eye,

Whose beams illuminate the lamps of heaven,

Whose cheerful looks do clear the cloudy air,

And clothe it in a crystal livery,

Now rest thee here on fair Larissa-plains,

Where Egypt and the Turkish empire part

Between thy sons, that shall be emperors,

And every one commander of a world.

ZENOCRATE. Sweet Tamburlaine, when wilt thou leave these arms,

And save thy sacred person free from scathe,

And dangerous chances of the wrathful war?

TAMBURLAINE. When heaven shall cease to move on both the poles,

And when the ground, whereon my soldiers march,

Shall rise aloft and touch the horned moon;

And not before, my sweet Zenocrate.

Sit up, and rest thee like a lovely queen.

So; now she sits in pomp and majesty,

When these, my sons, more precious in mine eyes

Than all the wealthy kingdoms I subdu'd,

Plac'd by her side, look on their mother's face.