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Tro. Come both, you cogging Greeks; have at both.
Hect. Yea, Troilus? O, well fought, my youngest
Achil. Now do I see thee: Ha!--Have at thee, Hector.
Hect. Pause, if thou wilt.
Achil. I do disdain thy courtesy, proud Trojan. Be happy, that my arms are out of use: My rest and negligence befriend thee now, But thou anon shalt hear of me again; Till when, go seek thy fortune.
Hect. Fare thee well:I would have been much more a fresher man, Had I expected thee.-How now, my brother?
Tro. Ajax hath ta'en Æneas; Shall it be?
Enter one in sumptuous armour.
Hect. Stand, stand, thou Greek; thou art a goodly
No? wilt thou not?-I like thy armour well;
But I'll be master of it:-Wilt thou not, beast,
Why then, fly on, I'll hunt thee for thy hide.
Enter Achilles, with Myrmidons.
Achil. Come here about me, you my Myrmidons;
Enter Menelaus and Paris, fighting; then
Ther. The cuckold, and the cuckold-maker are at it: Now, bull! now, dog! 'Loo, Paris, 'loo! now my double-henn'd sparrow! 'loo, Paris, 'loo! The bull has the game:-'ware horns, ho!
[Exeunt Paris and Menelaus.
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: Farewel, bastard.
Mar. The devil take thee, coward!
ANOTHER PART OF THE FIELD.
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
[A retreat sounded.
Achil. The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the earth,
And, stickler-like, the armies separates.
Come, tie his body to my horse's tail;
Enter Agamemnon, Ajax, Menelaus, Nestor, Dio-
Agam. Hark! hark! what shout is that?
Achilles! Hector's slain! Achilles!
Dio. The bruit is-Hector's slain, and by Achil
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
Το pray Achilles see us at our tent.-
ANOTHER PART OF THE FIELD.
Enter Æneas, and Trojans.
Ene. Stand, ho! yet are we masters of the field: Never go home; here starve we out the night.
Tro. Hector is slain.
In beastly sort, dragg'd through the shameful field.—
Ene. My lord, you do discomfort all the host.