Christopher Marlowe,
Tamburlaine the Great — Part 2
“ Shall sickness prove me now to be a man, That have been term'd the terror of the world? Techelles and the rest, come, take your swords, And threaten him whose hand afflicts my soul: Come, let us march against the powers of heaven, And set black streamers in the firmament, To signify the slaughter of the gods. Ah, friends, what shall I do? I cannot stand. Come, carry me to war against the gods, That thus envy the health of Tamburlaine. THERIDAMAS. Ah, good my lord, leave these impatient words, Which add much danger to your malady! TAMBURLAINE. Why, shall I sit and languish in this pain? ”
