And so mistake you not a whit, my lord; For fates and oracles heaven have sworn To royalize the deeds of Tamburlaine, And make them blest that share in his attempts: And doubt you not but, if you favour me, And let my fortunes and my valour sway To some direction in your martial deeds, The world will strive with hosts of men-at-arms To swarm unto the ensign I support. The host of Xerxes, which by fame is said To drink the mighty Parthian Araris, Was but a handful to that we will have: Our quivering lances, shaking in the air, And bullets, like Jove's dreadful thunderbolts, Enroll'd in flames and fiery smouldering mists, Shall threat the gods more than Cyclopian wars; And with our sun-bright armour, as we march, We'll chase the stars from heaven, and dim their eyes That stand and muse at our admired arms.

Tamburlaine Monologue

Rehearse Tamburlaine's monologue