Or bring him off: Fate, hear me what I fay;
I wreak not, though thou end my Life to Day,

Enter one in Armour.

Helt. Stand, ftand, thou Greek,

Thou art a goodly Mark:

No? wilt thou not? I like thy Armour well,
I'll fruth it, and unlock the Rivets all,

But I'll be Mafter of it; wilt thou not, Beaft, abide?
Why then fly on, I'll hunt thee for thy Hide.

Enter Achilles with Myrmidons.

Achil. Come here about me, you my Myrmidons.
Mark what I fay, attend me where I wheel;
Strike not a Stroke, but keep your felves in Breath;
And when I have the bloody Hector found,
Empale him with your Weapons round about a
In felleft manner execute your Arms,
Follow me, Sirs, and my proceeding Eye:
It is decreed-Hector the Great muft die.

[Exit.

[Exit.

[Exe.

Enter Therfites, Menelaus and Paris. Ther. The Cuckold, and the Cuckold-maker are at it: Now Bull, now Dog; 'loo, Paris, 'loo; now my double hen'd Sparrow; 'loo, Paris, 'loo; the Bull has the Game: 'ware Horns, ho. [Exit Paris and Menelaus.

Enter Baftard.

Baft. Turn, Slave, and fight.
Ther. What art thou?

Baft. A Baftard Son of Priam's.

Ther. I am a Baftard too, I love Baftards, I am a Baftard begor, Baftard inftructed, Baftard in Mind, Bastard in Valour, in every thing Illegitimate: One Bear will not bite another, and wherefore fhould one Baftard? Take heed, the Quarrel's most ominous to us: If the Son of a Whore fight for a Whore, he temps Judgment: Farewel, Ballard,

Baft. The Devil take the Coward.
Enter He&or.

Hect. Mft putrified Core! fo fair without
Thy goodly Armor thus hath coft thy Life.
Now is my day's work done; I'll take good Breath:
Reft Sword, thou haft thy fill of Blood and Death.

[Exeunt.

Enter

Enter Achilles, and his Myrmidons.
Achil. Look, Hector, now the Sun begins to fet;
How ugly Night comes breathing at his Heels:
Even with the veil and darking 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. Strike, Fellows, ftrike, this is the Man I feek.
So, Ilion, fall thou: Now, Troy, fink down:
Here lies thy Heart, thy Sinews and thy Bone.
On, Myrmidons, cry you all amain,
Achilles hath the mighty Hector flain.

Hark, a Retreat upon our Grecian part.

[Exeunts

Myr. The Trojan Trumpets found the like, my Lord. Achil. The dragon Wing of Night o'erfpreads the Earth, And, Stickler-like, the Armies feparates;

My half fupt Sword, that frankly would have fed,
Pleas'd with this dainty Bit, thus goes to Bed.

Come, tye his Body to my Hoife's Tail:

Along the Field, I will the Trojan trail.

[Sound Retreat.

[Exeunt Shouts

Enter Agamemnon, Ajax, Menelaus, Neftor, Diomede,

and the rest marching.

Aga. Hark, hark, what fhout is that?

Neft. Peace, Drums.

Sol. Achilles! Achilles! Hector's flain, Achilles!

Dio. The Bruit is, Hector's flain, and by Achilles.
Ajax. If it fo, yet braglefs let it be:

Great Hector was as good a Man as he.

Aga. March patiently along; let one be fent-
To pray Achilles fee us at our Tent.

If in his Death the Gods have us befriended,
Great Troy is ours, and our fharp Wars are ended.

Enter Eneas, Paris, Antenor and Deiphobus.
Ene. Stand ho, yet are we Mafters of the Field,
Never go home, here ftarve we out the Night.
Enter Troilus,

Troi. Hector is flain.

All. Hector!the Gods forbid!

[Exeunt.

་

Troi He's dead, and at the Murtherer's Horfe's Tail,
In beaftly fort dragg'd through the fhameful Field.
Frown on, you Heav'ns, effect your rage with speed;
Sit Gods upon your Thrones, and fmile at Troy.
I fay at once, let your brief Plagues be Mercy,
And linger not our fure Deftructions on.

Ane. My Lord, you do difcomfort all the Hoft.
Troi. 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
Addrefs their Dangers in Hector is gone:
Who fhall tell Priam fo? or Hecuba?
Let him that will a Scrietch-Owl ay be call'd,
Go in to Troy, and fay there, Hector's dead:
There is a word will Priam turn to Stone;
Make Wells, and Niobes of the Maids and Wives;
Cool Statues of the Youth; and, in a Word,
Scare Troy out of it felf. 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 rife, as early as he dare,

I'll through and through you. And thou great fiz'd Coward No space of Earth fhall funder our two Hates,

I'll haunt thee, like a wicked Confcience ftill,

That mouldeth Goblings swift as Frenfies thoughts,
Strike a free march to Troy, with comfort go:
Hope of revenge fhall hide our inward Woe.

Enter Pandarus.

Pan. But hear you, hear you?

Troi. Hence, Brothel, Lacky, Ignominy and Shame,

[Strikes him. Pursue thy Life, and live aye with thy Name. [Exeunt.

Pan. A goodly med'cine for mine aking Bones: Ok World! World! World! thus is the poor Agent defpis'd: Oh, Traitors and Bawds; how earnestly are you fet at Work, and how ill requited? why fhould our Endeavour be fo defir'd, and the Performance fo loath'd? What Verfe for it? what inftance for it ?Let me fee

Full

Full merrily the Humble Bee doth fing,
Till he hath loft his Hony and his Sting;
But being once fubdu'd in armed Tail,
Sweet Hony and fweet Notes together fail.

Good Traders in the Flesh, set this in your painted Cloaths;
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 fome groans,
Though not for me, yet for your aking Bones.
Brethren and Sifters of the hold-door Trade,
Some two Months hence, my Will fhall here be made:
It should be now, but that my fear is this,
Some galled Goofe of Winchester would hiss;
'Till then, I'll fwear, and feeek about for Eafes,
And at that time bequeath you my Diseases.

[Exeunt.