Now Menelaus's Greek horns are out o' doors, there's a new cuckold starts up on the Trojan side.

Troil. Yet this was she, ye gods, that very she, Who in my arms lay melting all the night; Who kissed and sighed, and sighed and kissed again, As if her soul flew upward to her lips, To meet mine there, and panted at the passage ; Who, loth to find the breaking day, looked out, And shrunk into my bosom, there to make A little longer darkness.

Diom. Plagues and tortures!

Thers. Good, good, by Pluto! their fool's mad, to lose his harlot; and our fool's mad, that t'other fool had her first. If I sought peace now, I could tell 'em there's punk enough to satisfy 'em both: whore sufficient! but let 'em worry one another, the fool. ish curs; they think they never can have enough of carrion.

Æn. My lords, this fury is not proper here
In time of truce; if either side be injured,
To-morrow's sun will rise apace, and then

Troil. And then! but why should I defer till then?
My blood calls now, there is no truce for traitors;
My vengeance rolls within my breast; it must,
It will have vent,-

[Draws. Diom. Hinder us not, Æneas, My blood rides high as his; I trust thy honour, And know thou art too brave a foe to break it.

[Draws. Thers. Now, moon! now shine, sweet moon! let them have just light enough to make their passes ; and not enough to ward them. Æn. [Drawing too.]By heaven, he comes on this,

who strikes the first. You both are mad; is this like gallant men, To fight at midnight; at the murderer's hour;

When only guilt and rapine draw a sword ?
Let night enjoy her dues of soft repose;
But let the sun behold the brave man's courage.
And this I dare engage for Diomede,--
Foe though I am,-he shall not hide his head,
But meet you in the very face of danger.
Diom. [Putting up.] Be't so; and were it on some

precipice,
High as Olympus, and a sea beneath,
Call when thou dar'st, just on the sharpest point
I'll meet, and tumble with thee to destruction.

Troil. Agnawing conscience haunts not guilty men, As I'll haunt thee, to summon thee to Nay, shouldst thou take the Stygian lake for refuge, I'll plunge in after, through the boiling flames, To push thee hissing down the vast abyss.

Diom. Where shall we nieet?

Troil. Before the tent of Calchas.
Thither, through all your troops, I'll fight my way;
And in the sight of perjured Cressida,
Give death to her through thee.

Diom. 'Tis largely promised;
But I disdain to answer with a boast.
Be sure thou shalt be met.

Troil. And thou be found. [Exeunt Troğlys and Æneas one way ; DIOMEDE

the other. Thers. Now the furies take Æneas, for letting them sleep upon their quarrel; who knows but rest may cool their brains, and make them rise maukish to mischief

upon consideration? May each of them dream he sees his cockatrice in t'other's arms; and be stabbing one another in their sleep, to remember them of their business when they wake : let them be punctual to the point of honour; and, if it were possible, let both be first at the place of execution:

a

let neither of them have cogitation enough, to consider 'tis a whore they fight for; and let them value their lives at as little as they are worth: and lastly, let no succeeding fools take warning by them; but, in imitation of them, when a strumpet is in question,

Let them beneath their feet all reason trample, And think it great to perish by example. [Exit.

ACT V. SCENE I.

HECTOR, Trojans, ANDROMACHE.

you, my lord?

Hect. The blue mists rise from off the nether

grounds,
And the sun mounts apace. To arms, to arms!
I am resolved to put to the utmost proof
The fate of Troy this day.

Andr. (Aside.] Oh wretched woman, oh!
Hect. Methought I heard you sigh, Andromache.
Andr. Did

Hect. Did you, my lord? you answer indirectly;
Just when I said, that I would put our fate
Upon the extremest proof, you fetched a groan;
And, as you checked yourself for what you did, ,
You stified it and stopt. Come, you are sad.

Andr. The gods forbid !
Hect. What should the gods forbid?
Andr. That I should give you cause of just offence.
Hect. You say well; but you look not chearfully.

.
I mean this day to waste the stock of war,
And lay it prodigally out in blows.
Come, gird my sword, and smile upon me, love;
Like victory, come flying to my arms,

And give me earnest of desired success.

Andr. The gods protect you, and restore you to me!
Hect. What, grown a coward! Thou wert used,

Andromache,
To give my courage courage ; thou would'st cry,–
Go, Hector, day grows old, and part of fame
Is ravished from thee by thy slothful stay.
Andr. (Aside.] What shall I do to seem the same

I was?
Come, let me gird thy fortune to thy side,
And conquest sit as close and sure as this.

[She goes to gird his sword, and it falls. Now mercy, heaven! the gods avert this omen! Hect. A foolish omen ! take it up again,

! And mend thy error.

Andr. I cannot, for my hand obeys me not ; But, as in slumbers, when we fain would run From our imagined fears, our idle feet Grow to the ground, our struggling voice dies inward; So now, when I would force myself to chear you, My faltering tongue can give no glad presage: Alas, I am no more Andromache.

Hect. Why then thy former soul is flown to me; For I, methinks, am lifted into air, As if my mind, mastering my mortal part, Would bear my exalted body to the gods. Last night I dreamt Jove sat on Ida's top, And, beckoning with his hand divine from far, He pointed to a choir of demi-gods, Bacchus and Hercules, and all the rest, Who, free from human toils, had gained the pitch Of blest eternity ;-Lo there, he said, Lo there's a place for Hector.

Andr. Be to thy enemies this boding dream! Hect. Why, it portends me honour and renown.

.

Andr. Such lionour as the brave gain after death; For I have dreamt all night of horrid slaughters, Of trampling horses, and of chariot wheels Wading in blood up to their axle-trees; Of fiery demons gliding down the skies, And Ilium brightened with a midnight blaze: O therefore, if thou lovest me, go not forth.

Hect. Go to thy bed again, and there dream better. Ho! bid my trumpet sound.

Andr. No notes of sally, for the heaven's sweet sake!
'Tis not for nothing when my spirits droop;
This is a day when thy ill stars are strong,
When they have driven thy helpless genius down
The steep of heaven, to some obscure retreat.
Hect. No more; even as thou lovest my fame,

no more;
My honour stands engaged to meet Achilles.
What will the Grecians think, or what will he,
Or what will Troy, or what wilt thou thyself,
When once this ague fit of fear is o'er,
If I should lose my honour for a dream ?

Andr. Your enemies too well your courage know,
And heaven abhors the forfeit of rash vows,
Like spotted livers in a sacrifice.
I cannot, O I dare not let you go;
For, when you leave me, my presaging mind
Says, I shall never, never see you more.

Hect. Thou excellently good, but oh too soft, Let me not 'scape the danger of this day; But I have struggling in my manly soul, To see those modest tears, ashamed to fall, And witness any part of woman in thee ! And now I fear, lest thou shouldst think it fear, If, thus dissuaded, I refuse to fight, And stay inglorious in thy arms at home. Andr. Oh, could I have that thought, I should

a

а