Disdains Zenocrate to live with me? Or you, my lords, to be my followers? Think you I weigh this treasure more than you? Not all the gold in India's wealthy arms Shall buy the meanest soldier in my train. Zenocrate, lovelier than the love of Jove, Brighter than is the silver Rhodope, Fairer than whitest snow on Scythian hills, Thy person is more worth to Tamburlaine Than the possession of the Persian crown, Which gracious stars have promis'd at my birth. A hundred Tartars shall attend on thee, Mounted on steeds swifter than Pegasus; Thy garments shall be made of Median silk, Enchas'd with precious jewels of mine own, More rich and valurous than Zenocrate's; With milk-white harts upon an ivory sled Thou shalt be drawn amidst the frozen pools, And scale the icy mountains' lofty tops, Which with thy beauty will be soon resolv'd: My martial prizes, with five hundred men, Won on the fifty-headed Volga's waves, Shall we all offer to Zenocrate, And then myself to fair Zenocrate.

Tamburlaine Monologue

Rehearse Tamburlaine's monologue