Page images
PDF
EPUB

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. AMI. The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the

earth,

'"And, stickler-like, the armies separates.
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, Aja.x, Menelaus, Nestor, Diomedes, and Others, marching. Shouts within.

Agam. Hark! hark! what shout is that?

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 as good a man as he.

Agam. March patiently 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, marching.

SCENE XL

Another Part of the Field.
Enter JENEAS, and Trojans.

jEnc. 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, 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!

JEne. 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 call'd,
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 jEneas, and Trojans.

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

Pan. But hear you, hear you!

Tro. Hence, broker lackey! ignomy 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 despis'd! 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 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: And 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 pander'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 aching 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,— Some galled goose of Winchester would hiss50: Till then I'll sweat, and seek about for eases; And, at that time, bequeath you my diseases.

[Erif.

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.

1 A PROLOGUE arm'd;—] I come here to speak the prologue, and come in armour; not defying the audience, in confidence of either the author's or actor's abilities, but merely in a character suited to the subject, in a dress of war, before a warlike play.

Johnson.

s Leaps o'er the vaunt andJirstUngs—] The vaunt, i. e. the mount, what went before.

3 and spirit of sense &c.] In comparison with

Cressid'* hand, says he, the spirit of sense, the utmost degree, the most exquisite power of sensibility, which implies a soft hand, since the sense of touching, as Scaliger says in his Exercitations, resides chiefly in the fingers, is hard as the callous and insensible palm of the ploughman. Warburtun reads,

spite of sense:

Hanmer,

to th' spirit of sense.

It is not proper to make a lover profess to praise his mistress in spite of sense; for though he often does it

« PreviousContinue »