SCENE VII.-Another Part of the Plain.

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 yourselves in breath;
And when I have the bloody Hector found,
Empale him with your weapons round about;
In fellest manner execute your aims.

Follow me, sirs, and my proceedings eye :-
It is decreed Hector the great must die. [Exeunt.

Enter MENELAUS and PARIS, fighting: then.
THERSITES.

Ther. The cuckold and the cuckold-maker are at it. Now, bull! now, dog! 'Loo, Paris, 'loo! now, my double-henned sparrow! 'loo, Paris, 'loo! The bull has the game :-'ware horns, ho!

[Exeunt PARIS and MENELAUS.

Enter MARGARELON.

Mar. Turn, slave, and fight.

Ther. What art thou?

Mar. 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 everything 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. Farewell, bastard. Mar. The devil take thee, coward! [Exeunt.

SCENE VIII.-Another Part of the Plain.
Enter HECTOR.

Hect. Most putrefiéd core, so fair without,
Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life.
Now is my day's work done; I'll take good breath:
Rest, sword; thou hast thy fill of blood and death!
[Puts off his helmet, and lays his sword aside.

Enter ACHILLES and Myrmidons.

Achil. Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set; How ugly night comes breathing at his heels: Even with the vail and darkening of the sun,

To close the day up, Hector's life is done.

Hect. I am unarmed: forego this vantage, Greek.

Achil. Strike, fellows, strike: this is the man I

seek.

[HECTOR falls. 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.'

[A retreat sounded.

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.

My half-supped sword, that frankly would have fed, Pleased with this dainty bit, thus goes to bed.—

[Sheathes his sword.

Come, tie his body to my horse's tail;

Along the field I will the Trojan trail.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IX.-The Same.

Enter AGAMEMNON, AJAX, MENELAUS, NESTOR, DIOMEDES, and others, marching.

within.

Agam. Hark! hark! what shout is that?

Shouts

Nest.

Peace, drums!

[Within.] Achilles ! Achilles! Hector's slain!

Achilles !

Dio. The bruit is, Hector 's slain, and by Achilles. Ajax. If it be so, yet bragless let it be: Great Hector was a man as good as he.

To

Agam. March patiently along.-Let one be sent 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 marching.

SCENE X.-Another part of the Field.

Enter ENEAS and Trojan forces.

Ene. Stand, ho! yet are we masters of the field.

Never go home: 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, dragged through the shameful

field.

Frown on, you heavens, effect your rage with speed!
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!

Ene. 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 called
Go in to Troy, and say there-Hector's dead:
There 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 itself. 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 greatsized 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 thoughts.-
Strike a free march to Trov - with