Patroclus.
Achilles.
I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine to-night,
Which with my scimitar I'll cool to-morrow.
Patroclus, let us feast him to the height.
Patr.
Here comes Thersites.
Enter Thersites.
Achil.
How now, thou core of envy?
Thou crusty batch of nature, what's the news?
Ther.
Why, thou picture of what thou seem'st, and idol of
idiot-worshippers, here's a letter for thee.
Achil.
From whence, fragment?
Ther.
Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy.
Patr.
Who keeps the tent now?
Ther.
The surgeon's box, or the patient's wound.
Patr.
Well said, adversity; and what need these tricks?
Ther.
Pr'ythee be silent, boy, I profit not by thy talk; thou
art thought to be Achilles's male-varlet.
Patr.
Male-varlet, you rogue? what's that?
Ther.
Why, his masculine whore. Now the rotten diseases of
the south, guts-griping, ruptures, catarrhs, loads o' gravel i'th'
back, lethargies, cold palsies, † noteraw eyes, dirt-rotten livers, wheezing
lungs, bladders full of impostume, sciatica's, lime-kilns i'th'
palme, incurable bone-ake, and the rivell'd fee-simple of the
tetter, take and take again such preposterous discoveries.
-- 98 --
Patr.
Why, thou damnable box of envy thou, what mean'st
thou to curse thus?
Ther.
Do I curse thee?
Patr.
Why no, you ruinous butt, you whoreson indistinguishable
cur.
Ther.
No? why art thou then exasperate, thou idle immaterial
skein of sley'd silk: thou green sarcenet flap for a sore eye;
thou tassel of a prodigal's purse, thou? Ah, how the poor world
is pester'd with such water-flies, diminutives of nature.
Patr.
Out gall!
Ther.
Finch egg!
Achil.
My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quite
From my great purpose in to-morrow's battel:
Here is a letter from Queen Hecuba,
A token from her daughter, my fair love,
Both taxing me, and gaging me to keep
An oath that I have sworn. I will not break it,
Fall Greek, fail fame; honour, or go, or stay,
My major vow lyes here; this I'll obey.
Come, come, Thersites, help to trim my tent,
This night in banqueting must all be spent.
Away, Patroclus.
[Exit.
Ther.
With too much blood, and too little brain, these two
may run mad: but if with too much brain, and too little blood,
they do, I'll be a curer of mad-men. Here's Agamemnon, an honest
fellow enough, and one that loves quails, but he hath not so
much brain as ear-wax; and the goodly transformation of Jupiter
there his brother, the bull, the primitive statue, and oblique memorial
of cuckolds; a thrifty shooing-horn in a chain, hanging
at his brother's leg; to what form, but that he is, should wit larded
with malice, and malice a notefarced with wit turn him to? to an
ass were nothing, he is both ass and ox; to an ox were nothing,
he is both ox and ass; to be a dog, a mule, a cat, a fitchew, a
-- 99 --
toad, a lizard, an owl, a puttock, or a herring without a roe, I
would not care: but to be Menelaus, I would conspire against destiny.
Ask me not what I would be, if I were not Thersites; for I care
not to be the lowse of a lazar, so I were not Menelaus.—
Hey-day, spirits and fires!
SCENE II.
Enter Hector, Ajax, Agamemnon, Ulysses, Nestor, and Diomede, with lights.
Aga.
We go wrong, we go wrong.
Ajax.
No, yonder 'tis, there where we see the light.
Hect.
I trouble you.
Ajax.
No, not a whit.
Enter Achilles.
Ulys.
Here comes himself to guide you.
Achil.
Welcome brave Hector, welcome princes all.
Aga.
So, now fair prince of Troy, I bid good-night.
Ajax commands the guard to tend on you.
Hect.
Thanks, and good-night to the Greek's general.
Men.
Good-night, my lord.
Hect.
Good-night, sweet lord Menelaus.
Ther.
Sweet draught—sweet quoth a—sweet sink, sweet sewer.
Achil.
Good-night, and welcome, both at once, to those that
go or tarry.
Aga.
Good-night.
Achil.
Old Nestor tarries, you too Diomede
Keep Hector company an hour or two.
Dio.
I cannot, lord, I have important business,
The tide whereof is now; good-night, great Hector.
Hect.
Give me your hand.
-- 100 --
Ulys.
Follow his torch, he goes to Calchas' tent:
I'll keep you company.
[To Troilus.
Troi.
Sweet Sir, you honour me.
Hect.
And so good-night.
Achil.
Come, come, enter my tent.
[Exeunt.
Ther.
That same Diomede's a false-hearted rogue, a most unjust
knave: I will no more trust him when he leers than I will a serpent
when he hisses: he will spend his mouth and promise, like
Brabler the hound; but when he performs, astronomers foretel it,
that it is prodigious, there will come some change: the sun borrows
of the moon, when Diomede keeps his word. I will rather
leave to see Hector, than not to dog him: they say, he keeps a
Trojan drab, and uses the traitor Calchas his tent. I'll after—
Nothing but lechery; all incontinent varlets.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Calchas's Tent.
Enter Diomede.
Dio.
What are you up here, ho? speak.
Cal.
Who calls?
Dio.
Diomede; Calchas, I think; where's your daughter?
Cal.
She comes to you.
Enter Troilus and Ulysses, after them 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?
-- 101 --
Ulys.
She will sing to any man at first sight.
Ther.
And any man may b notesing to her, if he can take her
cliff. 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 honey 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—
Cre.
In faith I can't: 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 pr'ythee 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—
-- 102 --
Ulys.
Good my lord go off:
You fly to great distraction: come, my lord.
Troi.
I pr'ythee stay.
Ulys.
You have not patience; come.
Troi.
I pray you stay; by hell, and by hell's torments,
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.
Ther.
How the devil luxury with his fat rump and potato
finger tickles these together! fry, lechery, 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.
-- 103 --
SCENE IV.
Enter Cressida.
Ther.
Now the pledge; now, now, now.
Cre.
Here Diomede, keep this sleeve.
Troi.
O beauty! where's 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 pr'ythee, 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, must take 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.
'Tis no matter.
Dio.
Come tell me whose it was?
-- 104 --
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 challeng'd.
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 straight starts you.
Dio.
I do not like this fooling.
Ther.
Nor I, by Pluto: but that that likes not you, pleases me
best.
Dio.
What, shall I come? the hour?
Cre.
Ay, come:—O Jove!—do, come:—I shall be plagu'd.
Dio.
Farewell 'till then.
[Exit.
Cre.
Good-night: I pr'ythee 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.
SCENE V.
Ther.
A proof of strength she could not publish more;
Unless she say, my mind is now turn'd whore.
-- 105 --
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,
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 all the 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 of his own eyes?
Troi.
This she? no, this is Diomede's Cressida.
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!
-- 106 --
c noteBy-fold authority! where reason can revolt
Without perdition, 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 far wider than the sky and earth,
And yet the spacious breadth of this division
Admits no orifice for a point as subtle
As slight Arachne'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-tied:
The fractions of her faith, orts of her love,
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—ne'er did young man fancy
With so eternal, and so fix'd a soul—
Hark, Greek, as much as I do Cressid 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 d notesun,
Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune's ear
In his descent, than shall my prompted sword
Falling on Diomede.
-- 107 --
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 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 VI.
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.
-- 108 --
Hect.
You train me to offend you; get you gone.
By all the everlasting gods, I'll go.
Ant.
My dreams will sure prove ominous to-day.
Hect.
No more, I say.
Enter Cassandra.
Cas.
Where is my brother Hector?
And.
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 heav'ns, 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.
And.
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;
Life every man holds dear, but the brave man
Holds honour far more precious-dear than life.
Enter Troilus.
How now, young man; mean'st thou to fight to-day?
-- 109 --
And.
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,
Ev'n in the fan and wind of your fair sword,
You bid them rise, and live.
Hect.
O, 'tis fair play.
Troi.
Fools-play, by heav'n, Hector.
Hect.
How now? how now?
Troi.
For 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, thus 'tis in 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.
-- 110 --
SCENE VII.
Enter Priam and Cassandra.
Cas.
Lay hold upon him, Priam hold him fast:
He is thy crutch; now if thou lose thy stay,
Thou on him leaning and all Troy on thee,
Fall all together.
Priam.
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,
Ev'n in the faith of valour, to appear
This morning to them.
Priam.
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.
And.
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!
-- 111 --
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.
Hect.
You are amaz'd, my liege, at her exclaim:
Go in and cheer the town, we'll forth and fight;
Do deeds worth praise, and tell you them at night.
Priam.
Farewel: the gods with safety stand about thee.
[Alarum.
Troi.
They're at it, hark: proud Diomede, believe
I come to lose my arm, or win my sleeve.
SCENE VIII.
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.
-- 112 --
Pand.
Why, but hear you—
Troi.
Hence, brothel, lacquy! ignominy and shame
Pursue thy life, and live ay with thy name.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IX.
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 vallain, with the sleeve,
back to the dissembling luxurious 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 begin 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 advantagious 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, now the sleeve!
-- 113 --
SCENE X.
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 Diomedes 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.
SCENE XI.
Enter Agamemnon.
Aga.
Renew, renew: the fierce Polydamas
Hath beat down Menon: bastard Margarelon
Hath Doreus prisoner,
And stands Colossus-wise, waving his beam
Upon the pashed coarses of the kings,
Epistropus and Odius. Polyxenus is slain;
Amphimachus and Thoas deadly hurt;
-- 114 --
Patroclus ta'en or slain, and Palamedes
Sore hurt and bruis'd; the dreadful e noteSagittary
Appals our numbers: haste we, Diomede,
To reinforcement, or we perish all.
Enter Nestor.
Nest.
Go bear Patroclus' body to Achilles,
And bid the snail'd-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 shoals
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;
Here, there, and ev'ry 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' wounds have rowz'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 spite of cunning
Bad him win all.
-- 115 --
SCENE XII.
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-killer, shew me thy face:
Know what it is to meet Achilles angry.
Hector, where's Hector? I will none but Hector.
[Exit.
Re-enter Ajax.
Ajax.
Troilus, thou coward Troilus, shew thy head.
Re-enter Diomede.
Dio.
Troilus, I say, where's Troilus?
Ajax.
What wouldst thou?
Dio.
I would correct him.
Ajax.
Were I the general, thou should'st have my office,
Ere 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.
-- 116 --
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 heav'n
He shall not carry him: I'll be taken too,
Or bring him off: Fate, hear me what I say;
I † notereck not, though thou end my life to-day.
[Exit.
Enter one in armour.
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 dye.
[Exeunt.
-- 117 --
SCENE XIII.
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 g notesparrow;
'loo, Paris, 'loo; the bull has the game: 'ware horns, ho.
[Ex. 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 thee coward.
[Exeunt.
SCENE XIV.
Enter Hector.
Hect.
Most putrified core! so fair without:—
Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life.
Now is my day's work done; I'll take my breath:
Rest sword, thou hast thy fill of blood and death.
Enter Achilles and his Myrmidons.
Achil.
Look Hector, now the sun begins to set;
How ugly night comes breathing at his heels:
Ev'n with the veil and darkning of the sun,
To close the day up, Hector's life is done.
[They fall upon Hector and kill him.
-- 118 --
Hect.
I am unarm'd, forego this vantage, Greek.
Achil.
Strike, fellows, strike, this is the man I seek.
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.
[Exeunt.
Hark, a retreat upon our Grecian part.
Myr.
The Trojan trumpets sound the like, my lord.
Achil.
The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the earth;
And, stickler-like, the armies separate;* note
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 is 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.
SNENE XV.
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.
-- 119 --
Enter Troilus.
Troi.
Hector is slain.
All.
Hector!—the gods forbid!
Troi.
He's dead, and at the murtherer's horse's tail
In beastly sort dragg'd through the shameful field.
Frown on, you heav'ns, 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:
That is a word will Priam turn to stone;
Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives;
Cold statues of the youth; and in a word,
Scare Troy out of it 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 frensy's 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?
-- 120 --
Troi.
Hence, brothel, lacky; ignominy, 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 lov'd, and the performance so loath'd?
what verse for it? what instance for it?—let me see—
Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing,
'Till he hath lost his honey and his sting;
But being once subdu'd in armed tail,
Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail.
Good traders in the flesh, set this in your painted cloths—
As many as be here of Pandar's hall,
Your eyes half out, weep out at Pandar'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,
† noteSome galled goose of Winchester would hiss;
'Till then, I'll sweat, and seek about for eases,
And at that time bequeath you my diseases.
[Exit.
