Now, Bajazeth, abridge thy baneful days, And beat the brains out of thy conquer'd head, Since other means are all forbidden me, That may be ministers of my decay. O highest lamp of ever-living Jove, Accursed day, infected with my griefs, Hide now thy stained face in endless night, And shut the windows of the lightsome heavens! Let ugly Darkness with her rusty coach, Engirt with tempests, wrapt in pitchy clouds, Smother the earth with never-fading mists, And let her horses from their nostrils breathe Rebellious winds and dreadful thunder-claps, That in this terror Tamburlaine may live, And my pin'd soul, resolv'd in liquid air, May still excruciate his tormented thoughts! Then let the stony dart of senseless cold Pierce through the centre of my wither'd heart, And make a passage for my loathed life!

Bajazeth Monologue from Tamburlaine

Rehearse Bajazeth's monologue