Dio.
Go, go, my servant, take thou Troilus' horse;
Present the fair steed to my lady Cressid:
Fellow, commend my service to her beauty;
Tell her, I have chastis'd the amorous Trojan,
And am her knight by proof.

Ser.
I go, my lord. [Exit Servant. Enter Agamemnon, hastily.

Aga.
Renew, renew! the fierce Polidamas
Hath beat down Menon: bastard Margarelon
Hath Doreus prisoner;

And stands Colossus-wise, waving his beam,
Upon the pashed corses of the kings
Epistropus and Cedius: Polixenes is slain;
Amphimachus, and Thoas, deadly hurt;
Patroclus ta'en, or slain; and Palamedes
Sore hurt and bruis'd: the dreadful Sagittary
Appals our numbers; haste we, Diomed,
To re-inforcement, or we perish all. Enter Nestor.

Nes.
Go, bear Patroclus' body to Achilles; [to his Followers.
And bid the snail-pac'd 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 is he yonder,
And there the strawy Greeks, ripe for his edge,
Fall down before him, like the mower's swath‡ ^note:
Here, there, and every where, he leaves, and takes;
Dexterity so obeying appetite,
That what he will, he does; and does so much,
That proof is call'd impossibility. Enter Ulysses.

Uly.
O, courage, courage, princes! great Achilles
Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance:
Patroclus' wounds have rouz'd his drowzy blood;
Together with his mangl'd Myrmidons,
That noseless, handless, hackt and chipt 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,
Bad him win all.

Enter Ajax.

Aja.
Troilus! thou coward Troilus! [Exit.

Dio.
Ay, there, there.

Nes.
So, so, we draw together. Enter Achilles.

Ach.
Where is this Hector?
Come, come, thou boy-queller, shew me thy face;
Know what it is to meet Achilles angry:
Hector! where's Hector? I will none but Hector. [Exeunt.

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