Imatges de pÓgina

Hector, where's Hector? I will none but Hector. [Exit.

Re-enter Ajax.
Ajax. Troilus, thou' coward Troilus, thew thy head!

Re-enter Diomedes.
Dio. Troilus, I say, where's Troilus?
Ajax. What wouldst thou?
Dio. I would correct him.

Ajax. Were I the general, thou shouldft have my office, Ere that correction : Troilus, I say, what! Troilus?

Enter Troilus, Troi. Oh, traitor Diomede! turn thy false face, thou

traitor, And pay thy life, thou owest me for


horfe. Dio. Ha, art thou there? Ajax. I'll fight with him alone: ftand, Diomede. Dio. He is my prize, I will not look upon. Troi. Come both, you cogging Greeks, have at you both.

[Exeunt, fighting Enter Hector. Hect. Yea, Troilus? O well fought! my youngest brother.

Enter Achilles.
Achil. Now do I see thee; have at thee, Hector.
Hect. Pause, if thou wilt.

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

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

Enter Troilus.

. Ajax hath ta'en Æneas ; fhall it be? No, by the flame of yonder glorious heav'n,


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He shall not carry him : I'll be taken too,
Or bring him off: Fate, hear me what I fay;
I reck not, though thou end my life to-day. [Exit.

Enter one in armout'.
Hect. 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 yourselves in breath ;
And when I have the bloody Hector 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.

Enter Therfites, 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.

[Exe. Paris and Menelaus.

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Enfer Bafard.
Baft. Turn, Nave, and fight,
Ther. What art thou ?
Buft. A bastard son of Priam's.

Ther. I am a bastard too, I love bastards. I am a bastard begot, bastard instructed, bastard in mind, haftard 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.

Byte Baft. The devil take thee, coward. [Exeunt,

Enter Hector.

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


Enter Achilles and his Myrmidons.


Achil. Look, Hector, how the fun begins to fet;
How ugly night comes breathing at his heels :
Ev’n with the veil and darkning of the sun,
To close the day up, Hector's life is done.

[They fall upon Hector, and kill bim. Heat. I am unarm’d, forego this vantage, Greek.

Achil. Strike, fellows, strike, this is the man I feek.
So, Ilion, fall thou next. Now, Troy, fink down :
Here lies thy heart, thy finews and thy bone.
On, Myrmidons, and cry you all amain,
Achilles hath the mighty Hector flain.
Hark, a retreat upon our Grecian part,

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

Achil. The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the earth;
And, stickler-like, the armies separates.
My half-supt fword, that frankly would have fed,
Pleas’d with this dainty bit, thus goes to bed.
Come, tie his body to my horse's tail :
Along the field I will the Trajan trail. [Exeunt.

[Sound retreat. Shout. Enter Agamemnon, Ajax, Menelaus, Neftor, Diomedes,

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

Ajax. If it is fo, yet bragless let it be:
Great Hector was as good a man as he.


Aga. March haftily along; let one be sent To pray

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

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

Enter Troilus.
Troi. Hector is slain.
All. Hector! the Gods forbid !

Troi. He's dead, and at the murderer'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 smile at Troy!
I say, at once, let your brief plagues be mercy,
And linger not our sure destructions on.

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

Troi. You understand me not, that tell me fo :
I do not speak of flight, of fear, of death,
But dare all imminence, that Gods and men
Address their dangers

in. Hector is gone !
Who shall tell Priam fo? or Hecuba?
Let him, that will a scrietch-owl ay be call’d,
Go into Troy, and say there, Héctor's dead :
That is a word will Priam turn to stone;
Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives ;
Cold ftatues of the youth ; and, in a word,
Scare Troy out of itself. But march away,
Hector 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-fiz'd

No space of earth shall sunder our two hates ;
I'll haunt thee, like a wicked conscience still,
That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy's thoughts.
Strike a free march to Troy! with comfort go :
Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe.

Enter Enter Pandarus.

Pan. But hear you, hear you?
Troi. Hence, brothel-lacquey; ignominy, thame

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

Pan. A goodly med'cine for my aking bones! Oh world! world ! world! thus is the poor agent despis’d: Oh, traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you let at work, and how ill requited ? why should our endeavour be fo lov'd, and the performance fo loath'd ? what verse for it? what instance for it? let me seeFull merrily the humble-bee doth fing, Till he hath loft 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, set this in your painted cloths As 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, Some galled goose of Winchester would hiss : Till then, I'll sweat, and seek about for eases ; And at that time bequeath you my diseases. [Exit.

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