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Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
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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.
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Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
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