Abbildungen der Seite

Tro. Come both, you cogging Greeks; have at both.


[Exeunt, fighting.

Enter Hector.

Hect. Yea, Troilus? O, well fought, my youngest


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.


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 taken 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

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,


Why then, fly on, I'll hunt thee for thy hide.



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.





Enter Menelaus and Paris, fighting; then

Ther. The cuckold, and the cuckold-maker are at it: Now, bull! now, dog! 'Loo, Paris, 'loo! now my double-henn'd sparrow! 'loo, Paris, 'loo! The bull has the game:-'ware horns, ho!

[Exeunt Paris and Menelaus.

[ocr errors][ocr errors]

Enter Margarelon.

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 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.

Mar. The devil take thee, coward!




Enter Hector.

Hect. Most putrified core, so fair without, Thy goodly 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 off 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 dark'ning 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 next! 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

Achil. The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the earth,

And, stickler-like, the armies separates.
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.




Enter Agamemnon, Ajax, Menelaus, Nestor, Dio-
medes, and Others, marching. Shouts within.

Agam. Hark! hark! what shout is that?
Peace, drums.


Achilles! Hector's slain! Achilles!

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



[ocr errors]

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

Agam. March patiently along:-Let one be sent

Το 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.



Enter Æneas, and Trojans.

Ene. Stand, ho! yet are we masters of the field: Never go home; here starve we out the night.

Enter Troilus.

Tro. Hector is slain.

Hector? The gods forbid!
Tro. He's dead; and at the murderer's horse's

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!

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!

« ZurückWeiter »