Imatges de pÓgina


Enter Achilles. Achil. Now do I see thee; ''now have at thee,' Heitor'. Heet. Pause, if thou wilt.

[Fighi. Achil. I do disdain thy courtesie, proud Trojan. Be happy that my arms are out of use, My relt and negligence befriend thee now, But thou anon shalt hear of me again: 'Till when, go seek thy fortune.

Heet. Fare thee well;
I would have been much more a fresher man,
Had I expected thee. How now, my brother?

Enter Troilus.
Troi. Ajax hath ta'en Æneas ;. Ihall it be?
No, by the flame of yonder glorious heav'n,
He shall not carry him: I'll be taken too,
Or bring him off: Fate, hear me what I say ;
I reck not, though thou end my

life today.

[Exit. Enter One in armour.' Heat. Stand, stand, thou Greek, thou art a goodly mark: No ? wilt thou not? I like thy armour well, I'll frush it, and unlock the rivets all, But I'll be master of it; wilt thou not, beast, abide ? Why then fly on, I'll hunt thee for thy hide.

[Exit. Enter Achilles with Myrmidons. Achil. Come here about me, you my Myrmidons. Mark what I say, attend me where I wheel ; Strike not a stroke, but keep your selves in breath; And when I have the bloody HeEtor found, Empale him with your weapons round about: In fellest manner execute your arms. Follow me, Sirs, and my proceeding eye: It is decreed-Hector the great must die. [Exeunt.

I have at thee,


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Enter Therfices, Menelaus and Paris. Ther. The cuckold, and the cuckold-maker are at it: now bull, now dog ; 'loo, Paris, 'loo ; now my double-hen'd sparrow; 'loo, Paris, 'loo ; the bull has the game: 'ware horns, ho, [Exeunt Paris and Menelaus.

Enter Bastard.
Baft. Turn, Nave, and fight.
Ther. What art thou?
Bat. A bastard son of Priam's.

Tber. I am a bastard too, I love baftards. I am a bastard begot, bastard instructed, bastard in mind, bastard in valour, in every thing illegitimate : one bear will not bite another, and wherefore should one bastard ? take heed, the quarrel's most ominous to us : If the son of a whore fight for a whore, he tempts judgment : farewel, bastard.

Bajt. The devil take thee, coward! [Exeunt.

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Heat. Most putrified core, so fair without !
Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life.
Now is my day's work done ; I'll take my breath :
Reft, sword, thou hast thy fill of blood and death.

Enter Achilles and bis Myrmidons.
Achil. Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set ;
How ugly night comes breathing at his heels:
Ev'n with the veil and darkning of the sun,
To close the day up, Heator's life is done.
Heet. I am unarm’d, forego this vantage, Greek.

Achil. Strike, fellows, strike, this is the man I seek. a

[They fall upon Hector, and kill him. So, Ilion, fall thou next. Now, Troy, sink down : Here lyes thy heart, thy sinews and thy bone. On, Myrmidons, and cry you all amain, Achilles bath the mighty Hector Nain. Hark, a retreat upon our Grecian part.

Myr. The Trojan trumpets found the like, my Lord.

Achil. The dragon wing of night o'erspeads the earth, And, stickler-like, the armies separates ; b Come, tye his body to my horse's tail: Along the field I will the Trojan trail. [Exeunt.

[Sound retreat, Sbout. Enter Agamemnon, Ajax, Menelaus, Neftor, Diomede,

and the rest, marching.
Aga. Hark, hark, what shout is that?
Neft. Peace, drums.
Sol. Achilles ! Achilles ! Heftor's Nain! Achilles !
Dio. The bruit is, Heitor's Nain, and by Achilles,

Ajax. If it is so, yet bragless let it be:
Great Heator was as good a man as he.
Aga. March patiently along ; let one be sent

Achilles see us at our tent.
If in his death the Gods have us befriended,
Great Troy is ours, and our sharp wars are ended. (Exeunt,

To pray


Enter Æneas, Paris, Antenor and Deiphobus.
Æne. Stand, ho! yet are we masters of the field,
Never go home, here starve we out the night.

Enter Troilus,
Troi. Hector is nain.
All.HeEtor! the Gods forbid !

Tre:. (a) This particular of Achilles overpowering Hector by numbers, is taken from the old Story-book.

(b) the armies separates ;
My half-fupt sword, that frankly would have fed,
Pleas'd with this dainty bit, thus goes to bed.
Come, tye s.

Troi. He's dead, and at the murtherer's horse's tail In beastly fort dragg'd through the shameful field. Frown on, you heav'ns, effect your rage with speed ; Sit, Gods, upon your thrones, and a finite all' Troy I say at once ; let your brief plagues be mercy, And linger not our fure destructions on!

Æne. My Lord, you do discomfort all the host.

Troi. You understand me not, that tell me fo:
I do not speak of fight, of fear, of death,
But dare all imminence, that Gods and men
Address their dangers in. Heftor is gone!
Who shall tell Priam so? or Hecuba?
Let him that will a scrietch-owl aye be callid,
Go in to Troy, and say there, Hector's dead:
That is a word will Priam turn to stone ;
Make wells and 3 'rivers of the maids and wives;
Cold statues of the youth; and in a word,
Scare Troy out of it self. But march away,
Hestor is dead: there is no more to say.
Stay yet, you vile abominable tents,
Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian plains :
Let Titan rise as early as he dare,

I'll through and through you. And thou, great-siz'd
No space of earth shall sunder our two hates,
I'll haunt thee, like a wicked conscience still,
That mouldeth goblins swift as frenfy's thoughts.
Strike a free march to Troy! with comfort go:
Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe.

Enter Pandarus.
Pan. But hear


Troi. Hence, brothel-lacquy ; ignominy, shame

[Strikes him. Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name! [Exeunt.

Pan. A goodly med'cine for mine aking bones! Oh world! world! world! thus is the poor agent despis'd : Oh, traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you set at

work, 2 smile at ... eld edit. Warb. emend.

3 Niobe's

work, and how ill requited! why should our endeavour be so lov’d, and the performance so loath’d? what verse for it? what instance for it? - let me fee Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing, 'Till he hath lost his honey and his sting ; But being once subdu'd in armed tail, Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail, Good traders in the flesh, fet this in your painted clothsAs many as be here of Pandar's hall, Your eyes half out weep out at Pandar's fall; Or if you cannot weep, yet give some groans, Though not for me, yet for your aking bones. Brethren and sisters of the hold-door trade, Some two months hence my will shall here be made : It should be now; but that my fear is this, a Some galled goose of Winchester would hiss; 'Till then, l'll sweat, and feck about for eases, And at that time bequeath you my diseases. [Exit.

(a) The publick flows were anciently under the jurifdi&tion of the Bishop of Winchester.



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