Puslapio vaizdai
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In beastly sort, dragged 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 destruction on!

Ene. 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 called, Go into 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, greatsized coward!

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

[Exeunt ENEAS 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 med'cine for my aching

bones!

O 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 loved, 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 arméd tail,
Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail.

Good traders in the flesh, set this in your painted clothes.

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 galléd goose of Winchester would hiss: Till then I'll sweat, and seek about for eases; And, at that time, bequeath you my diseases. [Exit.

E

HAKS

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