SCENE V.
The same.
Enter Diomed, and a Servant.
Dio.
Go, go, my servant, take thou Troilus' horse7 note
;
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.
Serv.
I go, my lord.
Enter Agamemnon.
Aga.
Renew, renew! The fierce Polydamas
Hath beat down Menon: 8 note
bastard Margarelon
-- 154 --
Hath Doreus prisoner;
And stands colossus-wise, waving his beam,
Upon the pashed corses of the kings
Epistrophus and Cedius: Polixenes is slain;
Amphimachus, and Thoas, deadly hurt;
Patroclus ta'en, or slain; and Palamedes
Sore hurt and bruis'd: 9 note
the dreadful Sagittary
Appals our numbers; haste we, Diomed,
To reinforcement, or we perish all.
Enter Nestor.
Nest.
Go, bear Patroclus' body to Achilles;
And bid the snail-pac'd Ajax arm for shame.—
There is a thousand Hectors in the field:
Now here he fights 1 note
on Galathe his horse,
-- 155 --
And there lacks work; anon, he's there afoot,
And there they fly, or die, like 2 note
scaled sculls
Before the belching whale; then is he yonder,
And there 3 note
the strawy Greeks, ripe for his edge,
Fall down before him, like the mower's swath:
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.
Ulyss.
O, courage, courage, princes! great Achilles
Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance:
-- 156 --
Patroclus' wounds have rouz'd his drowsy blood,
Together with his mangled Myrmidons,
That noseless, handless, hack'd and chip'd, 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,
Bade him win all.
Enter Ajax.
Ajax.
Troilus! thou coward Troilus!
[Exit.
Dio.
Ay, there, there.
Nest.
So, so, we draw together.
[Exeunt.
Enter Achilles.
Achil.
Where is this Hector?
Come, come, thou boy-queller, shew thy face;
Know what it is to meet Achilles angry.
Hector! where's Hector? I will none but Hector.
[Exit.
Samuel Johnson [1778], The plays of William Shakspeare. In ten volumes. With the corrections and illustrations of various commentators; to which are added notes by Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. The second edition, Revised and Augmented (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10901].