Thersites.
Ulys.
Stand where the Torch may not discover us.
Enter Cressid.
Troi.
Cressid, come forth to him!
Dio.
How now, my charge?
Cre.
Now my sweet Guardian; hark, a word with you.
[Whispers.
Troi.
Yea, so familiar?
Ulys.
She will sing to any Man at first sight.
Ther.
And any Man may find her, if he can take her
life: she's noted.
Dio.
Will you remember?
Cre.
Remember? yes.
Dio.
Nay, but do then; and let your mind be coupled
with your words.
Troi.
What should she remember?
Ulys.
List.
Cre.
Sweet, Hony Greek, tempt me no more to Folly.
Ther.
Roguery—
Dio.
Nay, then.
Cre.
I'll tell you what.
Dio.
Fo, fo, come tell a pin, you are a forsworn—
-- 1888 --
Cre.
In Faith I cannot: what would you have me do?
Ther.
A jugling Trick, to be secretly open.
Dio.
What did you swear you would bestow on me?
Cre.
I prithee do not hold me to mine Oath;
Bid me do any thing but that, sweet Greek.
Dio.
Good Night.
Troi.
Hold, Patience—
Ulys.
How now, Trojan?
Cre.
Diomede.
Dio.
No, no, good Night: I'll be your Fool no more.
Troi.
Thy better must.
Cre.
Hark, one word in your Ear.
Troi.
O Plague and Madness!
Ulys.
You are mov'd, Prince; let us depart, I pray you,
Lest your displeasure should enlarge it self
To wrathful Terms: this place is dangerous;
The time right deadly: I beseech you go.
Troi.
Behold, I pray you—
Ulys.
Nay, good my Lord go off:
You flow to great distraction: Come, my Lord.
Troi.
I pray thee stay?
Ulys.
You have not patience; come.
Troi.
I pray you stay; by Hell, and all Hell's Torments,
I will not speak a word.
Dio.
And so good Night.
Cre.
Nay, but you part in anger.
Troi.
Doth that grieve thee? O wither'd truth!
Ulys.
Why, how now, Lord?
Troi.
By Jove, I will be patient.
Cre.
Guardian—why, Greek—
Dio.
Fo, fo, adieu, you palter.
Cre.
In Faith, I do not: come hither once again.
Ulys.
You shake, my Lord, at something; will you go?
You will break out.
Troi.
She stroaks his Cheek.
Ulys.
Come, come.
Troi.
Nay, stay; by Jove, I will not speak a word.
There is between my Will, and all Offences,
A guard of patience, stay a little while.
-- 1889 --
Ther.
How the Devil Luxury with his fat Rump, and
Potato Finger, tickles these together: Fry, Letchery, fry.
Dio.
But will you then?
Cre.
In Faith I will come; never trust me else.
Dio.
Give me some token for the surety of it.
Cre.
I'll fetch you one.
[Exit.
Ulys.
You have sworn patience.
Troi.
Fear me not, sweet Lord,
I will not be my self, nor have cognition
Of what I feel: I am all Patience.
Enter Cressida.
Ther.
Now the Pledge, now, now, now.
Cre.
Here, Diomede, keep this Sleeve.
Troi.
O Beauty! where is thy Faith?
Ulys.
My Lord.
Troi.
I will be patient, outwardly I will.
Cre.
You look upon that Sleeve; behold it well:—
He lov'd me:—O false Wench:—Give't me again.
Dio.
Whose was't?
Cre.
It is no matter now I have't again,
I will not meet with you to morrow Night:
I prithee, Diomede, visit me no more.
Ther.
Now she sharpens: well said Whetstone.
Dio.
I shall have it.
Cre.
What, this?
Dio.
Ay, that.
Cre.
O all you Gods—O pretty, pretty Pledge;
Thy Master now lyes thinking in his Bed,
Of thee and me, and sighs, and takes my Glove,
And gives memorial dainty Kisses to it:
As I kiss thee.
Dio.
Nay, do not snatch it from me.
Cre.
He that takes that, takes my Heart withal.
Dio.
I had your Heart before, this follows it.
Troi.
I did swear Patience.
Cre.
You shall not have it, Diomede: 'Faith you shall not,
I'll give you something else.
Dio.
I will have this: Whose was it?
Cre.
It is no matter.
-- 1890 --
Dio.
Come tell me whose it was?
Cre.
'Twas one that lov'd me better than you will.
But now you have it, take it.
Dio.
Whose was it?
Cre.
By all Diana's Waiting-women yonder,
And by her self, I will not tell you whose.
Dio.
To morrow will I wear it on my Helm,
And grieve his Spirit that dares not challenge it.
Troi.
Wert thou the Devil, and wor'st it on thy Horn,
It should be challenged.
Cre.
Well, well, 'tis done, 'tis past; and yet it is not—
I will not keep my word.
Dio.
Why then farewel,
Thou never shalt mock Diomede again.
Cre.
You shall not go;—one cannot speak a word,
But it streight starts you.
Dio.
I do not like this fooling.
Ther.
Nor I, by Pluto: But that that likes not me, pleases
me best.
Dio.
What, shall I come? the hour.
Cre.
Ay, come:—O Jove!—do, come:—I shall be plagu'd.
Dio.
Farewel 'till then.
[Exit.
Cre.
Good Night: I prithee come:
Troilus, farewel; one Eye yet looks on thee,
But with my Heart, the other Eye doth see—
Ah poor our Sex; this fault in us I find,
The error of our Eye, directs our Mind.
What Error leads, must err: O then conclude,
Minds sway'd by Eyes, are full of turpitude.
[Exit.
Ther.
A proof of strength she could not publish more;
Unless she say, my Mind is now turn'd Whore.
Ulys.
All's done, my Lord.
Troi.
It is.
Ulys.
Why stay we then?
Troi.
To make a recordation to my Soul,
Of every Syllable that here was spoke:
But if I tell how these two did co-act,
Shall I not lie in publishing a Truth?
Sith yet there is a credence in my Heart,
An esperance so obstinately strong,
-- 1891 --
That doth invert that test of Eyes and Ears;
As if those Organs had deceptious Functions,
Created only to calumniate.
Was Cressid here?
Ulys.
I cannot conjure, Trojan.
Troi.
She was not sure.
Ulys.
Most sure she was.
Troi.
Why, my Negation hath no taste of Madness.
Ulys.
Nor mine, my Lord: Cressid was here but now.
Troi.
Let it not be believ'd for Woman-hood:
Think we had Mothers; do not give advantage
To stubborn Criticks, apt without a Theme
For depravation, to square the general Sex
By Cressid's Rule. Rather think this not Cressid.
Ulys.
What hath she done, Prince, that can soil our Mothers?
Troi.
Nothing at all, unless that this were she.
Ther.
Will he swagger himself out on's own Eyes?
Troi.
This she? no, this is Diomede's Cressid:
If Beauty have a Soul, this is not she:
If Souls guide Vows, if Vows are Sanctimony,
If Sanctimony be the Gods delight,
If there be Rule in Unity it self,
This is not she. O madness of Discourse!
That Cause sets up, with and against thy self,
By foul Authority; where Reason can revolt
Without Perdition, and Loss assume all Reason,
Without Revolt. This is, and is not Cressid.
Within my Soul, there doth commence a fight
Of this strange Nature, that a thing inseparate
Divides more wider than the Sky and Earth,
And yet the spacious breadth of this Division
Admits no Orifice for a point, as subtle
As Ariachne's broken woof, to enter;
Instance, O instance! strong as Pluto's Gates;
Cressid is mine, tied with the Bonds of Heav'n;
Instance, O instance! strong as Heav'n it self;
The Bonds of Heav'n are slip'd, dissolv'd and loos'd,
And with another Knot five finger'd tied:
The fractions of her Faith, orts of her Love,
-- 1892 --
The fragments, scraps, the bits, and greasie Reliques,
Of her o'er-eaten Faith, are bound to Diomede.
Ulys.
May worthy Troilus be half attach'd
With that which here his passion doth express?
Troi.
Ay, Greek, and that shall be divulged well.
In Characters, as red as Mars his Heart
Inflam'd with Venus—never did young Man fancy
With so Eternal, and so fix'd a Soul—
Hark, Greek, as much as I do Cressida love,
So much by weight hate I her Diomede:
That Sleeve is mine, that he'll bear in his Helm:
Were it a Cask compos'd by Vulcan's Skill,
My Sword should bite it: Not the dreadful Spout,
Which Ship-men do the Hurricano call,
Constring'd in Mass by the Almighty Finger
Shall dizzy with more Clamour Neptune's Ear
In his descent, than shall my prompted Sword
Falling on Diomede.
Ther.
He'll tickle it for his Concupy.
Troi.
O Cressid! O false Cressid! false, false, false?
Let all Untruths stand by thy stained Name,
And they'll seem glorious.
Ulys.
O contain your self:
Your Passion draws Ears hither.
Enter Æneas.
Æne.
I have been seeking you this hour, my Lord:
Hector by this is arming him in Troy.
Ajax, your Guard, stays to Conduct you home.
Troi.
Have with you, Prince; my courteous Lord, adieu.
Farewel; revolted fair: and, Diomede,
Stand fast, and wear a Castle on thy Head.
Ulys.
I'll bring you to the Gates.
Troi.
Accept distracted Thanks.
[Exeunt Troilus, Æneas, and Ulysses.
Ther.
Would I could meet that Rogue Diomede, I would
croak like a Raven: I would bode, I would bode: Patroclus
will give me any thing for the intelligence of this
-- 1893 --
Whore: The Parrot will not do more for an Almond,
than he for a commodious Drab: Letchery, Letchery, still
Wars and Letchery, nothing else holds fashion. A burning
Devil take them.
[Exit
SCENE III.
Troy.
Enter Hector and Andromache.
And.
When was my Lord so much ungently temper'd,
To stop his Ears against admonishment?
Unarm, unarm, and do not fight to day.
Hect.
You train me to offend you; get you gone.
By the everlasting Gods, I'll go.
Andr.
My Dreams will sure prove ominous to the day.
Hect.
No more, I say.
Enter Cassandra.
Cas.
Where is my Brother Hector?
Andr.
Here Sister, arm'd, and bloody in intent:
Consort with me in loud and dear Petition;
Pursue we him on Knees; for I have dreamt
Of bloody turbulence; and this whole night
Hath nothing been but shapes and forms of Slaughter.
Cas.
O, 'tis true.
Hect.
Ho! bid my Trumpet sound.
Cas.
No Notes of sally, for the Heavens, sweet Brother.
Hect.
Be gone, I say: The Gods have heard me swear.
Cas.
The Gods are deaf to hot and peevish Vows;
They are polluted Offerings, more abhorr'd
Than spotted Livers in the Sacrifice.
Andr.
O, be perswaded, do not count it holy,
To hurt by being just; it were as lawful
For us to count we give what's gain'd by Thefts,
And rob in the behalf of Charity.
Cas.
It is the purpose that makes strong the Vow;
But Vows to every purpose must not hold:
Unarm, sweet Hector.
Hect.
Hold you still, I say;
Mine Honour keeps the weather of my Fate:
-- 1894 --
Life every Man holds dear, but the dear Man
Holds Honour far more precious-dear than Life.
Enter Troilus.
How now, young man; mean'st thou to fight to day?
Andr.
Cassandra, call my Father to perswade.
[Exit Cassandra.
Hect.
No Faith, young Troilus; doff thy Harness, Youth:
I am to day i'th' vein of Chivalry:
Let grow thy Sinews till their knots be strong,
And tempt not yet the brushes of the War.
Unarm thee, go; and doubt thou not, brave Boy,
I'll stand to day, for thee, and me, and Troy.
Troi.
Brother, you have a vice of Mercy in you;
Which better fits a Lion, than a Man.
Hect.
What Vice is that? Good Troilus, chide me for it.
Troi.
When many times the Captive Grecians fall,
Even in the fan and wind of your fair Sword,
You bid them rise, and live.
Hect.
O, 'tis fair play.
Troi.
Fools Play, by Heaven, Hector.
Hect.
How now? how now?
Troi.
For th' love of all the Gods,
Let's leave the Hermit Pity with our Mothers;
And when we have our Armours buckled on,
The venom'd Vengeance ride upon our Swords,
Spur them to ruful work, rein them from ruth.
Hect.
Fie, Savage, fie.
Troi.
Hector, then 'tis Wars.
Hect.
Troilus, I would not have you fight to day.
Troi.
Who should with-hold me?
Not Fate, Obedience, nor the Hand of Mars,
Beckning with fiery Truncheon my retire:
Not Priamus and Hecuba on Knees,
Their Eyes o'er-galled with recourse of Tears;
Nor you, my Brother, with your true Sword drawn,
Oppos'd to hinder me, should stop my way;
But by my Ruin.
-- 1895 --
Enter Priam and Cassandra
Cas.
Lay hold upon him, Priam, hold him fast:
He is thy Crutch; now if thou loose thy stay,
Thou on him leaning, and all Troy on thee;
Fall all together.
Priam.
Come, Hector, come, go back:
Thy Wife hath Dreamt; thy Mother hath had Visions;
Cassandra doth foresee; and I my self,
Am like a Prophet, suddenly enrapt,
To tell thee that this day is Ominous:
Therefore come back.
Hect.
Æneas is a-field,
And I do stand engag'd to many Greeks,
Even in the faith of Valour, to appear
This Morning to them.
Priam.
Ay, but thou shalt not go.
Hect.
I must not break my Faith:
You know me Dutiful, therefore, dear Sir,
Let me not shame respect; but give me leave
To take that course by your Consent and Voice,
Which you do here forbid me, Royal Priam.
Cas.
O, Priam, yield not to him.
Andr.
Do not, dear Father.
Hect.
Andromache, I am offended with you:
Upon the love you bear me; get you in.
[Exit Andromache.
Troi.
This foolish, dreaming, superstitious Girl,
Makes all these bodements.
Cas.
O farewel, dear Hector:
Look how thou diest; look how thy Eyes turn pale;
Look how thy Wounds do bleed at many vents;
Hark how Troy roars; how Hecuba cries out;
How poor Andromache shrills her Dolour forth;
Behold Distraction, Frenzy and Amazement,
Like witless Anticks, one another meet,
And all cry, Hector, Hector's dead: O Hector!
Troi.
Away,
Cas.
Farewel: Yet, soft: Hector, I take my leave;
Thou do'st thy self, and all our Troy deceive.
[Exit.
-- 1896 --
Hect.
You are amaz'd, my Liege, at her Exclaim:
Go in and cheer the Town, we'll forth and fight;
Do deeds of praise, and tell you them at Night.
Priam.
Farewel: The Gods with safety stand about thee.
[Alarum.
Troi.
They are at it, hark: Proud Diomede, believe
I come to lose my Arm, or win my Sleeve.
Enter Pandarus.
Pand.
Do you hear, my Lord? do you hear?
Troi.
What now?
Pand.
Here's a Letter come from yond poor Girl.
Troi.
Let me read.
Pand.
A whorson Ptisick, a whorson rascally Ptisick, so
troubles me; and the foolish Fortune of this Girl, and what
one thing, and what another, that I shall leave you one
o'these days; and I have a Rheum in mine Eyes too, and such
an ach in my Bones, that unless a Man were Curst, I cannot
tell what to think on't. What says she, there?
Troi.
Words, Words, meer Words; no Matter from the
Heart.
Th' Effect doth operate another way.
[Tearing the Letter.
Go Wind to Wind, there turn and change together:
My Love with Words and Errors still she feeds;
But edifies another with her Deeds.
Pand.
Why, but hear you—
Troi.
Hence, Brothel Lacquy, Ignominy and Shame
Pursue thy Life, and live ay with thy Name.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
The Field between Troy and the Camp.
Alarum. Enter Thersites.
Ther.
Now they are clapper-clawing one another, I'll go
look on: That dissembling abominable Varlet, Diomede,
has got that same scurvy, doating, foolish young Knave's
Sleeve of Troy, there in his Helm: I would fain see them
meet, that, that same young Trojan Ass, that loves the
Whore there, might send that Greekish Whore-masterly
Villain, with the Sleeve, back to the dissembling luxurious
-- 1897 --
Drab, of a sleeveless Errant. O'th' t'other side, the Policy
of those crafty swearing Rascals, that stale old Mouse-eaten
dry Cheese, Nestor; and that same dog-fox Ulysses is not
prov'd worth a Blackberry. They set me up in Policy that
mungril Cur Ajax, against that Dog of as bad a kind, Achilles.
And now is the Cur Ajax prouder than the Cur Achilles,
and will not arm to Day. Whereupon the Grecians
began to proclaim Barbarism, and Policy grows into an ill
Opinion.
Enter Diomede and Troilus.
Soft—here comes Sleeve, and t' other.
Troi.
Fly not; for should'st thou take the River Styx, I
would swim after.
Dio.
Thou dost miscall Retire:
I do not fly, but advantageous care
Withdrew me from the odds of Multitude:
Have at thee.
[They go off fighting.
Ther.
Hold thy Whore, Grecian: Now for thy Whore,
Trojan: Now the Sleeve, now the Sleeve.
Enter Hector.
Hect.
What art thou, Greek? art thou for Hector's match?
Art thou of Blood and Honour?
Ther.
No, no: I am a Rascal; a scurvy railing Knave; a
very filthy Rogue.
Hect.
I do believe thee—live.
[Exit.
Ther.
God-a-mercy, that thou wilt believe me; but a
plague break thy Neck—for frighting me; what's become
of the wenching Rogues? I think, they have swallowed
one another. I would laugh at that Miracle—yet
in a sort, Letchery eats it self: I'll seek them.
[Exit.
Enter Diomede and Servant.
Dio.
Go, go, my Servant, take thou Troilus's 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.
Enter Agamemnon.
Aga.
Renew, renew, the fierce Polydamus
Hath beat down Menon: Bastard Margarelon
-- 1898 --
Hath Doreus Prisoner,
And stands, Colossus wise, waving his Beam,
Upon the pashed coarses of the Kings,
Epistropus and Cedus: Polyxines is slain;
Amphimachus and Thous deadly hurt;
Patroclus ta'en or slain, and Palamedes
Sore hurt and bruised; the dreadful Sagittary
Appals our Numbers, haste we, Diomede,
To Reinforcement, or we perish all.
Enter Nestor.
Nest.
Go bear Patroclus's Body to Achilles,
And bid the Snail-pac'd Ajax arm for shame,
There are a thousand Hectors in the Field:
Now here he fights on Galathe his Horse,
And there lacks work; anon he's there a-foot,
And there they fly or dye, like scaled Sculls,
Before the belching Whale: Then is he yonder,
And there the straying 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.
Ulys.
Oh, Courage, Courage, Princes; great Achilles
Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing Vengeance;
Patroclus's Wounds have rouz'd his drowsie Blood,
Together with his mangled 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 fantastick Execution,
Engaging and redeeming of himself,
With such a careless Force, and forceless Care,
As if that Luck, in very spight of Cunning, bad him win all.
Enter Ajax.
Ajax.
Troilus, thou Coward, Troilus.
[Exit.
Dio.
Ay, there, there.
Nest.
So, so, we draw together.
[Exeunt.
-- 1899 --
Enter Achilles.
Achil.
Where is this Hector?
Come, come, thou Boy-killer, shew thy Face:
Know what it is to meet Achilles angry.
Hector, where's Hector? I will none but Hector.
[Exit.
Enter Ajax.
Ajax.
Troilus, thou Coward Troilus, shew thy Head.
Enter Diomede.
Dio.
Troilus, I say, where's Troilus?
Ajax.
What would'st thou?
Dio.
I would correct him.
Ajax.
Were I the General,
Thou should'st have my Office,
E'er that Correction: Troilus, I say, what, Troilus?
Enter Troilus.
Troi.
Oh Traitor Diomede!
Turn thy false Face, thou Traitor,
And pay thy Life, thou owest me for my Horse.
Dio.
Ha, art thou there?
Ajax.
I'll fight with him alone, stand, Diomede.
Dio.
He is my prize, I will not look upon.
Troi.
Come, both you cogging Greeks, have at you both.
[Exeunt fighting.
Enter Hector.
Hect.
Yea, Troilus? O well fought, my youngest Brother.
Enter Achilles.
Achil.
Now do I see thee; have at thee, Hector.
Hect.
Pause, if thou wilt.
[Fight.
Achil.
I do disdain thy Courtesie, 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?
Enter Troilus.
Troi.
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,
-- 1900 --
Or bring him off: Fate, hear me what I say;
I wreak not, though thou end my Life to Day.
[Exit.
Enter one in Armor.
Hect.
Stand, stand, thou Greek,
Thou art a goodly Mark:
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, abide?
Why then fly on, I'll hunt thee for thy Hide.
[Exit.
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 your selves 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 proceeding Eye;
It is decreed—Hector the Great must die.
[Exit.
Enter Thersites, Menelaus and Paris.
Ther.
The Cuckold, and the Cuckold-maker are at it:
Now Bull, now Dog; 'loo, Paris, 'loo; now my double hen'd
Sparrow; 'loo, Paris, 'loo; the Bull has the Game: 'ware
Horns, ho.
[Exit Paris and Menelaus.
Enter Bastard.
Bast.
Turn, Slave, and fight.
Ther.
What art thou?
Bast.
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.
Bast.
The Devil take the Coward.
[Exeunt.
Enter Hector.
Hect.
Most putrified Core! so fair without:—
Thy goodly Armor 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.
-- 1901 --
Enter Achilles, and his Myrmidons.
Achil.
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.
[They fall upon Hector and kill him.
Hect.
I am unarm'd, forego this vantage, Greek.
Achil.
Strike, Fellows, strike, this is the Man I seek.
So, Ilion, fall thou: Now, Troy, sink down:
Here lies thy Heart, thy Sinews and thy Bone.
On, Myrmidons, cry you all amain,
Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain.
Hark, a Retreat upon our Grecian part.
[Retreat.
Myr.
The Trojan Trumpets sound the like, my Lord.
Achil.
The dragon Wing of Night o'er spreads the Earth,
And, Stickler-like, the Armies separates;
My half supt Sword, that frankly would have fed,
Pleas'd with this dainty Bit, thus goes to Bed.
Come, tye his Body to my Horse's Tail:
Along the Field, I will the Trojan trail.
[Exeunt.
[Sound Retreat. Shout.
Enter Agamemnon, Ajax, Menelaus, Nestor, Diomede, and the rest marching,
Aga.
Hark, hark, what shout is that?
Nest.
Peace, Drums.
Sol.
Achilles! Achilles! Hector's slain, Achilles!
Dio.
The Bruit is, Hector's slain, and by Achilles!
Ajax.
If it be so, yet bragless let it be:
Great Hector was as good a Man as he.
Aga.
March patiently along; let one be sent
To 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.
Enter Æneas, Paris, Antenor and Deiphobus.
Æne.
Stand ho, yet are we Masters of the Field,
Never go home, here starve we out the Night.
Enter Troilus.
Troi.
Hector is slain.
All.
Hector!—the Gods forbid!
-- 1902 --
Troi.
He's dead, and at the Murtherer's Horse's Tail,
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.
Æne.
My Lord, you do discomfort all the Host.
Troi.
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:
Who shall tell Priam so? or Hecuba?
Let him that will a Scrietch-Owl ay be call'd,
Go in to Troy, and say there, Hector's dead:
There is a word will Priam turn to Stone;
Make Wells, and Niobes of the Maids and Wives;
Cool Statues of the Youth; and, in a Word,
Scare Troy out of self. But march away,
Hector is dead: There is no more to say.
Stay yet, you vile abominable Tents,
Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian Plains:
Let Titan rise, as early as he dare,
I'll through and through you. And thou great siz'd Coward
No space of Earth shall sunder our two Hates,
I'll haunt thee, like a wicked Conscience still,
That mouldeth Goblins swift as Frensies thoughts,
Strike a free march to Troy, with comfort go:
Hope of revenge shall hide our inward Woe.
Enter Pandarus.
Pan.
But hear you, hear you?
Troi.
Hence, Brothel, Lacky, Ignominy and Shame
[Strikes him.
Pursue thy Life, and live aye with thy Name.
[Exeunt.
Pan.
A goodly med'cine for mine aking Bones: Oh
World! World! World! thus is the poor Agent despis'd:
Oh, Traitors and Bawds; how earnestly are you set at Work,
and how ill requited? why should our Endeavour be so desir'd,
and the Performance so loath'd? What Verse for it?
what instance for it?—Let me see—
-- 1903 --
Full merrily the Humble Bee doth sing,
'Till he hath lost his Hony and his Sting;
But being once subdu'd in armed Tail,
Sweet Hony and sweet Notes together fail.
Good Traders in the Flesh, set this in your painted Cloathes;
As many as be here of Pandar's Hall,
Your Eyes half out, weep out at Pindar's Fall;
Or if you cannot weep, yet give some groans,
Though not for me, yet for your aking Bones.
Brethren and Sisters of the hold-door Trade,
Some two Months hence, my Will shall here be made:
It should be now, but that my fear is this,
Some galled Goose of Winchester would hiss;
'Till then, I'll swear, and seek about for Eases,
And at that time bequeath you my Diseases.
[Exeunt.
