Another Part of the Plains. |
|
Enter HECTOR. |
Hect. Most putrefied 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 darking 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. |
Myr. The Trojan trumpets sound the like, my lord. |
Achil. 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 bait, thus goes to bed.— [Sheathes his sword. |
Come, tie his body to my horse's tail; |
Along the field I will the Trojan trail. [Exeunt. |
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