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But I'll be master of it :-Wilt thou not, beast,

abide Why then, fly on, I'll hunt thee for thy hide.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VII.

The same.

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

SCENE VIII.

The same.

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.

3

- execute your arms.] To execute their arms is to employ them; to put them to use.

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 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: Farewell, bastard.

Mar. The devil take thee, coward! [Exeunt.

SCENE IX.

Another Part of the Field.

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 good breath: Rest, sword : thou hast thy fill of blood and death! [Puts off his Helmet, and hangs his Shield

behind him.

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 dark’ning of the sun, To close the day up, Hector's life is done.

Hect. I am unarm’d; 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. Alyr. 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-supp'd sword, that frankly would have fed, Pleas’d with this dainty bit, thus goes to bed.

[Sheaths his sword. Come, tie his body to my horse's tail ; Along the field I will the Trojan trail. [Exeunt.

SCENE X.

The same.

Enter AGAMEMNON, AJAX, MENELAUS, NESTOR,
DIOMEDES, and Others, marching. Shouts within.
Agam. Hark! hark! what shout is that?
Nest.

Peace, diums. [IVithin.]

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 as good a man as he.

Agam. March patiently along :-Let one be sent To pray Achilles see us at our tent.-

* And, stickler-like,] Sticklers are arbitrators, judges, or, as called in some places, sidesmen. At every wrestling in Cornwall, before the games begin, a certain number of sticklers are chosen, who regulate the proceedings, and determine every dispute. Stickler (stic-kle-er) is immediately from the verb stickle, to inferfere, to take part with, to busy one's self in any matter.

If in his death the gods have us befriended,
Great Troy is ours, and our sharp wars are ended.

[Exeunt, marching.

SCENE XI.

Another Part of the Field.

Enter Æneas and Trojans. Æne. Stand, ho! yet are we masters of the field: Never go home; here starve we out the night.

Enter TROILUS.

Tro. Hector is slain.
AN.

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 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. .

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 callid,
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, 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 thoughts.-
Strike a free march to Troy !--with comfort go:
Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe.

[Exeunt Æneas and Trojans.

As Troilus is going out, enter, from the other side,

PANDARUS. Pan. But bear you, hear you!

Tro. Hence, broker lackey! ignominy and shame Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name.

(Exit Troilus. Pan. A goodly med'cine for my 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

Spight -) i. e. pitched, fixed. The obsolete preterite and participle passive of to pitch.

with comfort go : Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe.] This couplet affords a full and natural close of the play; and though I once thought differently, I must now declare my firm belief that Shakspeare designed it should end here, and that what follows is either a subsequent and injudicious restoration from the elder drama, mentioned in p. 391, or the nonsense of some wretched buffoon, who represented Pandarus. When the hero of the scene was not only alive, but on the stage, our author would scarce have trusted the conclusion of his piece to a subordinate character, whom he had uniformly held up to detestation. It is still less probable that he should have wound up his story with a stupid outrage to decency, and a deliberate insult on his audience.—But in several other parts of this drama I cannot persuade myself that I have been reading Shakspeare. Steevens. VOL. VI.

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