Obrazy na stronie

Upon the pashed corses of the kings
Epistrophus and Celius : Polixencs is slain :
Amphimacus, and Thoas, deadly hurt ;
Patroclus ta'en, or slain ; and Palamedes
Sore hurt and bruis'd : the dreadful Sagitiary
Appals our numbers; haste we, Diomed,
To reinforcement, or we perish all.

Nest. Go, bear Patroclus' body to Achilles ;
And bid the snail-paced Ajax arm for shame.
There is a thousand Hectors in the field :
Now here he fights on Galathe his horse,
And there lacks work ; anon, he's there afoot,
And there they fly, or die, like scaled sculls
Before the belching whale; then he is yonder,
And there the strawy Greeks, ripe for his edge,
Fall down before him like the mower's swath :
Here, there, and everywhere, he leaves and takes;
Dexterity so obeying appetite
That what he will he does; and does so much
That proof is call'd impossibility.

Ulyss. O courage, courage, princes ! great Achilles
Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance;
Patroclus' wounds have rous'd his drowsy blood,
Together with his mangled Myrmidons,
That noseless, handless, hack'd and chipp'd, come to him,
Crying on Hector. Ajax hath lost a friend,
And foams at mouth, and he is arm’d, and at it,
Roaring for Troilus; who hath done to-day
Mad and fantastic execution ;
Engaging and redeeming of himself,
With such a careless force, and forceless care,
As if that luck, in very spite of cunning,
Bade him win all.

Enter AJAX.
Ajax. Troilus, thou coward Troilus !
Nest. So, so, we draw together.

[Erit. Ay, there, there.

Enter ACHILLES. Achil.

Where is this Hector ? Come, come, thou boy-queller, show thy face Know what it is to meet Achilles angry. Hector where's H or? I will none but H or. [Ercunt. SCENE VI.-Another part of the Field.

Enter AJAX.
Ajax, Troilus, thou coward Troilus, show thy head !

Enter DIOMEDES. Dio. Troilus, I say ! where 's Troilus? Ajax.

What wouldst thou ? Dio. I would correct him.

Ajar. Were I the general, thou shouldst have my office Ere that correction :— Troilus, I say! what, Troilus !

Tro. O traitor Diomed !-turn thy false face, thou traitor,
And pay thy life thou ow'st me for my horse !

Dio. Ha ! art thou there?
Ajax. l'll fight with him alone : stand, Diomed.
Dio. He is my prize. I will not look upon.
Tro. Come both you cogging Greeks; have at you both.

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

Enter AchiLLES.
Achil. Now do I see thee :-Ha !-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.

[Exit. Hect.

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

Re-enter TROILUS.
Tro. Ajax hath ta'en Æneas : shall it be?
No, by the flame of yonder glorious heaven,
He shall not carry him ; I'll be ta'en too,
Or bring him off:-Fate, hear me what I say !
I reck not though I end my life to-day.

Enter one in sumptuous armour.
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.


SCENE VII.-The same.

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 proceedings eye :--
It is decreed Hector the great must die.


SCENE VIII.-The same. Enter MENELAUS and Paris, fighting : then THERSITES. Ther. The cuckold and the cuckold-maker are at it: Now, bull! now, dog! 'Loo, Paris, 'loo ! now my double-henned sparrow! 'loo, Paris, 'loo! The bull has the game :-'ware horns, ho!


Mar. Turn, slave, and fight.
Ther. What art thou ?
Mar. 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, bastard in valour, in everything 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. Farewell, bastard. Mar. The devil take thee, coward !


SCENE IX.-Another Part of the Field.

Hect. Most putrefied core, so fair without,
Thy goodiy armour thus hath cost thy life.
Now is my day's work done : I'll take good breath :
Rest, sword : thou hast thy fill of blood and death!

[Puts of his helmet, and hangs his shield behind him.

Enter Achilles and Myrmidons.
Achil. Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set ;
How ugly night comes breathing at his heels :
Even with the vail and darking of the sun,
To close the day up, Hector's life is done.
Hect. I am unarm’d; forego this vantage, Greek.
Achil. Strike, fellows, strike ; this is the man I seek.

[HECTOR falls.

So, Ilion, fall thou ; now, Troy, sink down ;
Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone.-
On, Myrmidons ; and cry you all amain,
'Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain.' [A retreat sounded.
Hark! a retreat upon our Grecian part.

Myr. The Trojan trumpets sound the like, my lord.

Achil. The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the earth,
And, stickler-like, the armies separate.
My half-supp'd sword that frankly would have fed,
Pleas'd with this dainty bit, thus goes to bed. -

[Sheaths his sword. Come, tie his body to my horse's tail ; Along the field I will the Trojan trail.



others, marching. Shouts within. Agam. Hark! hark! what shout is that? Nest.

Peace, drums. [Within.]

Achilles ! Achilles ! Hector's slain ! Achilles !

Dio. The bruit is Hector's slain, and by Achilles.

Ajax. If it be so, yet bragless let it be;
Great Hector was a man as good as he.

Agam. March patiently along : let one be sent
To pray 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, marching:

SCENE XI.-Another Part of the Field.

Enter ÆNEAS and Trojans.
Æne. Stand, ho! yet are we masters of the field :
Never go home ; here starve we out the night.

Tro. Hector is slain.

Hector ?—The gods forbid !
Tro. He's dead ; and at the murtherer's horse's tail,
In beastly sort, dragg'd through the shameful field.-
Frown on, you heavens, 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 host.

Tro. You understand me not that tell me so :
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 so, or Hecuba ?
Let him that will a screech-owl aye be call'd
Go in to Troy, and say there--Hector 's dead :
There is a word will Priam turn to stone;
Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives,
Cold statues 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-siz'd coward !
No space of earth shall sunder our two hates ;
I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still,
That mouldeth goblins swist as frenzy's thoughts.
Strike a free march to Troy !--with comfort go :
Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe.

[Excunt ÆNEAS and Trojans.


As TROILUS is going out, enter from the other side, PANDARUS. Pan. But hear you, hear you!

Tro. Hence, broker lackey! ignomy and shame Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name. [Exit TROILUS.

Pan. A goodly medicine for mine aching bones !-() world ! world! world ! thus is the poor agent despised ! O traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you set a-work, and how ill requited ! Why should our endeavour be so desired, and the performance so loathed? what verse for it? what instance for it ?- Let me see :

Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing,
Till he hath lost his honey and his sting :
And being once subdued 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 pander'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 aching 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 gilled 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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