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 note}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.
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 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.

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