Hect.
Most putrefied core, so fair without,
Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life.
Now is my day's ^note work done; I'll take good breath ^note:
Rest, sword; thou hast thy fill of blood and death. [Puts off his helmet and hangs his shield behind him. ^{note note} Enter ^note Achilles and Myrmidons.

Achil.
Look, Hector, how ^note the sun begins to set;
How ugly night comes breathing at his heels:
Even with the vail ^note and darking ^note of the sun, ^note
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. ^note
So, Ilion ^note, fall thou next! now ^note, Troy, sink down!
Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone.
On, Myrmidons; and cry ^note you all amain,
‘Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain.’ [A retreat sounded. ^note
Hark! a retire ^note upon our Grecian part ^note.

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

Achil.
The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the earth,
And stickler-like the armies separates ^note.
My half-supp'd sword that frankly would have fed,
Pleased with this dainty bait ^note, thus goes to bed. ^note [Sheathes ^note his sword.
Come, tie his body to my horse's tail;
Along the field I will the Trojan trail. [Exeunt. A retreat sounded. ^{note note}

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