MAXIMUS. My lord, the breach the enemy hath made Gives such assurance of our overthrow, That little hope is left to save our lives, Or hold our city from the conqueror's hands. Then hang out [258] flags, my lord, of humble truce, And satisfy the people's general prayers, That Tamburlaine's intolerable wrath May be suppress'd by our submission. GOVERNOR. Villain, respect'st thou [259] more thy slavish life Than honour of thy country or thy name? Is not my life and state as dear to me, The city and my native country's weal, As any thing of [260] price with thy conceit? Have we not hope, for all our batter'd walls, To live secure and keep his forces out, When this our famous lake of Limnasphaltis Makes walls a-fresh with every thing that falls Into the liquid substance of his stream, More strong than are the gates of death or hell? What faintness should dismay our courages, When we are thus defenc'd against our foe, And have no terror but his threatening looks? Enter, above, a CITIZEN, who kneels to the GOVERNOR. CITIZEN. My lord, if ever you did deed of ruth, And now will work a refuge to our lives, Offer submission, hang up flags of truce, That Tamburlaine may pity our distress, And use us like a loving conqueror. Though this be held his last day's dreadful siege, Wherein he spareth neither man nor child, Yet are there Christians of Georgia here, Whose state he [261] ever pitied and reliev'd, Will get his pardon, if your grace would send. GOVERNOR. How [262] is my soul environed! And this eterniz'd [263] city Babylon Fill'd with a pack of faint-heart fugitives That thus entreat their shame and servitude! Enter, above, a SECOND CITIZEN. SECOND CITIZEN. My lord, if ever you will win our hearts, Yield up the town, and [264] save our wives and children; For I will cast myself from off these walls, Or die some death of quickest violence, Before I bide the wrath of Tamburlaine. GOVERNOR. Villains, cowards, traitors to our state! Fall to the earth, and pierce the pit of hell, That legions of tormenting spirits may vex Your slavish bosoms with continual pains! I care not, nor the town will never yield As long as any life is in my breast. Enter THERIDAMAS and TECHELLES, with SOLDIERS. THERIDAMAS. Thou desperate governor of Babylon, To save thy life, and us a little labour, Yield speedily the city to our hands, Or else be sure thou shalt be forc'd with pains More exquisite than ever traitor felt. GOVERNOR. Tyrant, I turn the traitor in thy throat, And will defend it in despite of thee.-- Call up the soldiers to defend these walls.