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.
-- 464 --
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 ideot-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, raw
eyes, dirt-rotten livers, wheezing lungs, bladders full
of imposthume, sciatica's, lime-kilns i'th' palme, incurable
bone-ach, and the rivell'd fee-simple of the
tetter, take and take again such preposterous discoveries.
Patr.
Why, thou damnable box of envy, thou,
what meanest thou to curse thus?
Ther.
Do I curse thee?
Patr.
Why, no, you ruinous butt, you whorson 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 battle:
-- 465 --
Here is a letter from Queen Hecuba,
1 noteA 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.
[Ex.
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 madmen.
Here's Agamemnon, an honest fellow enough,
and one hat note loves quails, but he hath not so much
brain as ear-wax; 2 note
and the goodly transformation of
Jupiter there, his brother, the bull, the primitive
statue, and obelisque memorial of cuckolds; a thrifty
shooing-horn in a chain, hanging at his brother's leg;
-- 466 --
to what form, but that he is, should wit larded with
malice, and malice forced with wit, turn him? 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 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, Troilus, 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 Greeks' General.
Men.
Good night, my lord.
-- 467 --
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, and 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.
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 letchery;
all incontinent varlets.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Changes to 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?
-- 468 --
Cal.
She comes to you.
Enter Troilus and Ulysses, after them Thersites.
Ulys.
Stand where the torch may not discover us.
Enter Cressida.
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 sing 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.
Pho! pho! 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.
-- 469 --
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 itself
To wrathful terms: this place is dangerous;
The time right deadly: I beseech you, go.
Troi.
Behold, I pray you—
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,
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.
Pho, pho, 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 strokes 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, letchery,
fry!—
Dio.
But will you then?
Cre.
In faith, I will, la; never trust me else.
-- 470 --
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 myself, nor have cognition
Of what I feel: I am all patience.
SCENE IV.
Re-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 ye 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.—
[Diomedes snatches the sleeve.
Nay, do not snatch it from me:
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.
-- 471 --
Dio.
I will have this: whose was it?
Cre.
'Tis no matter.
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.
3 noteBy all Diana's waiting-women yonder,
And by herself, 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 plagued,
Dio.
Farewel '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.
-- 472 --
SCENE V.
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,
That doth invert th' attest 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 was 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,
-- 473 --
If there be rule in unity itself,
This is not she. O madness of discourse!
That cause sets up with and against thyself!
Bi-fold authority! 4 note
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 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 itself!
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 does 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,
-- 474 --
Constring'd in mass by the almighty Sun,
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 yourself:
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 do no 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.
-- 475 --
SCENE VI.
Changes to the Palace of 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 all the everlasting Gods, I'll go.
And.
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.
&wlquo;Cas.
&wlquo;The Gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows;
&wlquo;They are polluted offerings, more abhorr'd
&wlquo;Than spotted livers in the sacrifice.&wrquo;
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.
-- 476 --
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?
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.
6 note
When many times the caitiff 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 Heaven, 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 armour buckled on,
The venom'd vengeance ride upon our swords,
Spur them to rueful work, rein them from ruth.
-- 477 --
Hect.
Fie, savage, fie!
Troi.
Hector, thus 'tis in wars.
Hect.
Troilus, I would not have you fight to day.
Troilus.
Who should with-hold me?
Not fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars
Beckoning with fiery truncheon my retire;
Not Priamus and Hecuba on knees,
Their eyes o'er-galled 7 notewith 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.
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 myself
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.
-- 478 --
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 And.
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!—Away!—
Cas.
Farewel: yet, soft: Hector, I take my leave;
Thou do'st thyself 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.
Pan.
Do you hear, my lord, do you hear?
Troi.
What now?
Pan.
Here's a letter come from yond poor girl.
Troi.
Let me read.
Pan.
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
-- 479 --
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.
Pan.
Why, but hear you—
Troi.
Hence, brothel-lacquey! ignominy and shame
Pursue thy life, and live ay with thy name!
[Exeunt.
SCENE IX.
Changes to 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-master villain, with the sleeve, back
to the dissembling luxurious drab, of a sleeveless Errant.
O'th' other side, the policy of those crafty (a) note sneering
rascals, that stale old mouse-eaten dry cheese Nestor,
and that same dog-fox Ulysses, is not prov'd worth a
black-berry.—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.
-- 480 --
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, now the sleeve!
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 o' 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' 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.
-- 481 --
SCENE XI.
Enter Agamemnon.
Aga.
Renew, renew: the fierce Polydamas
Hath beat down Menon: 8 notebastard 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;
Patroclus ta'en or slain, and Palamedes
Sore hurt and bruis'd; 9 note
the dreadful Sagittary
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-pac'd Ajax arm for shame,
There are a thousand Hectors in the field:
Now, here he fights 1 noteon 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,
-- 482 --
And there the strawy 2 note
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 has 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.
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.
-- 483 --
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 shouldst 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.
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?
-- 484 --
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 reck 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 die.
[Exeunt.
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 sparrow; 'loo, Paris, 'loo; the bull
has the game: 'ware horns, ho.
[Exeunt Paris and Menelaus.
Enter Bastard.
Bast.
Turn, slave, and fight.
Ther.
What art thou?
-- 485 --
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, how 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.
Hect.
I am unarm'd, forego this vantage, Greek.
Achil.
3 noteStrike, 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.
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;
-- 486 --
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 is so, yet bragless let it be:
Great Hector was as good a man as he.
Aga.
March hastily 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.
SCENE 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.
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.
4 note
Frown on, you heav'ns, effect your rage with speed;
-- 487 --
Sit, Gods, upon your Thrones, and smite 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 into Troy, and say there, Hector's dead:
That is a word will Priam turn to stone;
5 note
Make welling 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 Frenzy'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?
-- 488 --
Troi.
Hence, brothel-lacquey; ignominy, shame
[Strikes him.
Pursue thy life, and live ay with thy name!
[Exeunt.
Pan.
A goodly med'cine for my 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,
6 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.
