SCENE XI.
Another Part of the Field.
Enter Æneas and Trojan Forces.
Æne.
Stand, ho! yet are we masters of the field.
Never go home2 note: here starve we out the night.
Enter Troilus.
Tro.
Hector is slain.
All.
Hector?—The gods forbid!
Tro.
He's dead; and at the murderer'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 Troy3 note!
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.
Tro.
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 screech-owl aye be call'd,
Go in to Troy, and say there—Hector's dead:
-- 135 --
There is a word will Priam turn to stone,
Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives,
Cold statues of the youth4 note; and, in a word,
Scare Troy out of itself. But, march, away:
Hector is dead; there is no more to say.
Stay yet.—You vile abominable tents,
Thus proudly pight5 note 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 frenzy's thoughts.—
Strike a free march to Troy!—with comfort go:
Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe.
[Exeunt Æneas and Trojan Forces.
As Troilus is going out, enter, from the other side, Pandarus.
Pan.
But hear you, hear you!
Tro.
Hence, broker, lackey! ignomy and shame6 note
Pursue thy life, 11Q0858 and live aye with thy name!
[Exit Troilus.
Pan.
A goodly medicine for mine aching bones!—O
world! world! world! thus is the poor agent despised.
O, traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you set a'
work, and how ill requited! why should our endeavour
be so loved, and the performance so loathed7 note? what
verse for it? what instance for it?—Let me see.—
-- 136 --
Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing,
Till he hath lost his honey, and his sting;
And being once subdued in armed tail,
Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail.—
Good traders in the flesh, set this in your painted cloths8 note
.
As many as be here of Pander'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 aching 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 hiss9 note.
Till then I'll sweat, and seek about for eases;
And at that time bequeath you my diseases.
[Exit.
