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 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 called,
Go into 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-sized

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. A: TROILUS is going out, enter, from the other side, PAN

DARUS. 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 despised ! O traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you set a' work, and how ill requited! Why should our endeavor be so loved, and the

VOL. III. – 27

performance so loathed? 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 subdued 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 Pandar'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 hiss; Till then I'll sweat, and seek about for eases, And, at that time, bequeath you my diseases. [Exit.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

Timon, a noble Athenian.
LUCIUS,
LUCULLUS, Lords, and Flatterers of Timon.
SEMPRONIUS,
VENTIDIUS, one of Timon's false Friends.
APEMANTUS, a churlish Philosopher.
ALCIBIADES, an Athenian General.
FLAVIUS, Steward to Timon.
FLAMINIUS,
LUCILIUS, Timon's Servants.
SERVILIUS,
CAPHIS,
PHILOTUS,
TITUS,

Servants to Timon's Creditors.
LUCIUS,
HORTENSIUS,
Two Servants of Varro, and the Servant of Isidore, two of

Timon's Creditors.
CUPID and Maskers. Three Strangers.
Poet, Painter, Jeweller, and Merchant.
An old Athenian. A Page. A Fool.

Other Lords, Senators, Officers, Soldiers, Thieves, and

Attendants.

SCENE. Athens, and the Woods adjoining.

(420)

TIMON OF ATHENS.

ACT I.

SCENE I. Athens. A Hall in Timon's House.

Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and others, at

several doors. Poet. Good day, sir. Pain.

I am glad you are well. Poet. I have not seen you long; how goes the world? Pain. It wears, sir, as it grows. Poet.

Ay, that's well known.
But what particular rarity ? what strange,
Which manifold record not matches? See,
Magic of bounty! all these spirits thy power
Hath conjured to attend. I know the merchant.

Pain. I know them both; t'other's a jeweller.
Mer. 0, 'tis a worthy lord !
Jew.

Nay, that's most fixed. Mer. A most incomparable man; breathed, as it were, To an untirable and continuate goodness.

He passes.

Jew. I have a jewel here.
Mer. O, pray, let's see't; for the lord Timon, sir ?
Jew. If he will touch the estimate. But for that-

Poet. When we for recompense have praised the vile,
It stains the glory in that happy verse
Which aptly sings the good.
Mer.

'Tis a good form.

[Looking at the jewel. Jew. And rich; here is a water, look you.

Pain. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication To the great lord.