Puslapio vaizdai

Enter Achilles. Achil. Where is this Hector? Come, come, thou Boy-killer, shew thy Face: Know what it is to meet Achilles angry. Hečtor, where's Hector? I will none but Hector. [Exit.

Enter Ajax.
Ajax. Troilus, thou Coward Troilus, shew thy Head.

Enter Diomede.
Dio. Troilus, I say, where's Troilus?
Ajax. What would'st thou?
Dio. I would correct him.

Ajax. Were I the General,
Thou should'st have my Office,
E'er that Corre&ion: 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


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

[Exennt fighting Enter Hector. Hect. Yea, Troilus? O well fought, my youngest Brother.

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

Achil. I do disdain thy Courtesie, proud Trojan,
Be happy that my Arms are out of use:
My rest and negligence befriend thee now,
But thou anon ihalt hear of me again :
'Till when, go seek thy Fortune.

Helt. 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; shall it be?
No, by the flame of yonder glorious Heaven
He shall not carry him: I'll be taken too,



Or bring him off: Fate, hear me what I say;
I wreak not, though thou end my Life to Day.

Enter one in Armor.
He&t. 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 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-HeEtor the Great must die.

Enter Thersites, 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.

[Exit Paris and Menelaus,

Enter Baftard.
Baft. Turn, Slave, and fight.
Ther. What art thou?
Baft. 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 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. Baft. The Devil take the Coward.

[Exeunt. Enter Hedor. Het. Most putrified Core! so fair without:**hy goodly Armor thus hath cost thy Life. Now is my day's work done; I'll take good Breath : Left Sword, thou hast thy fill of Blood and Death.


Enter Achilles, and his Myrmidons.
Achil. Look, He&tor, how the Sun begins to set ;
How ugly Night comes breathing at his Heels:
Even with the veil and darking of the Sun,
To close the Day up, Hector's Life is done.

[They fall spon He&or and kill him.
He&t. I am unarm’d, forego this vantage, Greek.

Achil. Strike, Fellows, strike, this is the Man I seek.
So, Ilion, fallthou: Now, Troy, link down:
Here lies thy Heart, thy Sinews and thy Bone.
On, Myrmidons, cry you all amain,
Achilles hath the mighty He&tor slain.

[Retrear. Hark, a Retreat upon our Grecian part.

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

Achil. The dragon Wing of Night o'er spreads the Earth,
And, Stickler-like, the Armies separates ;
My half supt Sword, that frankly would have fed,
Pleas'd with this dainty Bit, thus goes to Bed.
Come, tye his Body to my Horse's Tail:
Along the Field, I will the Trojan trail. [Exeunt.

[Sound Retreat. Shont. Enter Agamemnon, Ajax, Menelaus, Nestor, Diomede,

and the rest marching,
Aga. Hark, hark, what hout is that?
Neft. Peace, Drums.
Sol. Achilles !. Achilles ! Hektor's Nain, Achilles !
Dio. The Bruit is, Hector's Dain, and by Achilles.

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

Aga. 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.

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 slain.
All. Heltor!the Gods forbid !



Troi. He's dead, and at the Murtherer's Horse's Tail, In beastly fort dragg'd through the shameful Field. Frown on, you Heavens, effeå 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 fure 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 Alight, of fear, of Death,
But dare all imminence, that Gods and Men
Address their Dangers in. Hetor is gone:
Who shall tell Priam so? or Hecuba?
Let him that will a Scrietch-Owl ay be calld,
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;
Cool Statues of the Youth; and, in a Word,
Scare Troy out of self. But march

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’dCoward

No space of Earth shall sunder our two Hates,
I'll haunt thee, like a wicked Conscience still,
That mouldeth Goblins swift as Frensies thoughts,
Strike a free march to Troy, with comfort go:
Hope of revenge shall hide our inward Woe.

Enter Pandarus.
Pan. But hear you, hear you?
Troi. Hence, Brothel, Lacky, Ignominy and 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 despisid : Oh, Traitors and Bawds; how earnestly are you set at Work, and how ill requited ? why should our Endeavour be fo desir’d, and the Performance ro loath'd? What Verse for it? what instance for it?—Let me see


Full merrily the Humble Bee doth sing,
'Till he hath lost his Hony and his Sting ;
But being once subdu'd in armed Tail,
Sweet Hony and sweet Notes together fail.
Good Traders in the Flesh, set this in your painted Cloathes;
As many as be here of Pandar's Hall,
Your Eyes half out, weep out at Pindar's Fall ;
Or if you cannoć 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 swear, and seek about for Eases,
And at that time bequeath you my Diseases. [Excunt.

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