Hec.
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: [Putting off his helmet.
Rest, sword; thou hast thy fill of blood and death. Shouts within. Enter Achilles and Myrmidons.

Ach.
Look, Hector, 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. [Assaulting him.

Hec.
I am unarm'd, forego this vantage, Greek.

Ach.
Strike, fellows, strike, this is the man I seek.— [Hector falls† ^note.
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. [Retreat heard.
Hark! a retreat upon our Grecian part.

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

Ach.
The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the earth;
And, stickler-like, the armies separate.
My half-supt sword, that frankly would have fed,
Pleas'd with this dainty bit, thus goes to bed.— [Putting up his sword.
Come, tie his body to my horse's tail;
Along the field I will the Trojan trail‡ ^note. [Exeunt, dragging out the body.

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