The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Part 547

Exeunt PARIS and MENELAUS

Enter MARGARELON

MARGARELON. Turn, slave, and fight.

THERSITES. What art thou?

MARGARELON. A b.a.s.t.a.r.d son of Priam's.

THERSITES. I am a b.a.s.t.a.r.d too; I love b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. I am a b.a.s.t.a.r.d begot, b.a.s.t.a.r.d instructed, b.a.s.t.a.r.d in mind, b.a.s.t.a.r.d in valour, in everything illegitimate. One bear will not bite another, and wherefore should one b.a.s.t.a.r.d? Take heed, the quarrel's most ominous to us: if the son of a wh.o.r.e fight for a wh.o.r.e, he tempts judgment. Farewell, b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

Exit MARGARELON. The devil take thee, coward! Exit

ACT V. SCENE 8.

Another part of the plain

Enter HECTOR

HECTOR. 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!

[Disarms]

Enter ACHILLES and his Myrmidons

ACHILLES. 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.

HECTOR. I am unarm'd; forego this vantage, Greek.

ACHILLES. Strike, fellows, strike; this is the man I seek.

[HECTOR falls]

So, Ilion, fall thou next! Come, Troy, sink down; Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone.

On, Myrmidons, and cry you an amain 'Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain.'

[A retreat sounded]

Hark! a retire upon our Grecian part.

MYRMIDON. The Troyan trumpets sound the like, my lord.

ACHILLES. 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 Troyan trail. Exeunt

ACT V. SCENE 9.

Another part of the plain

Sound retreat. Shout. Enter AGAMEMNON, AJAX, MENELAUS, NESTOR, DIOMEDES, and the rest, marching

AGAMEMNON. Hark! hark! what shout is this?

NESTOR. Peace, drums!

SOLDIERS. [Within] Achilles! Achilles! Hector's slain. Achilles!

DIOMEDES. 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.

AGAMEMNON. March patiently along. Let one be sent To pray Achilles see us at our tent.

If in his death the G.o.ds have us befriended; Great Troy is ours, and our sharp wars are ended.

Exeunt

ACT V. SCENE 10.

Another part of the plain

Enter AENEAS, PARIS, ANTENOR, and DEIPHOBUS

AENEAS. Stand, ho! yet are we masters of the field.

Never go home; here starve we out the night.

Enter TROILUS

TROILUS. Hector is slain.

ALL. Hector! The G.o.ds forbid!

TROILUS. 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, G.o.ds, upon your thrones, and smile at Troy.

I say at once let your brief plagues be mercy, And linger not our sure destructions on.

AENEAS. My lord, you do discomfort all the host.

TROILUS. You understand me not that tell me so.

I do not speak of flight, of fear of death, But dare all imminence that G.o.ds 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 t.i.tan rise as early as he dare, I'll through and through you. And, thou great-siz'd coward, No s.p.a.ce of earth shall sunder our two hates; I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still, That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy's thoughts.

Strike a free march to Troy. With comfort go; Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe.

Enter PANDARUS

PANDARUS. But hear you, hear you!

TROILUS. Hence, broker-lackey. Ignominy and shame Pursue thy life and live aye with thy name!

Exeunt all but PANDARUS PANDARUS. A goodly medicine for my aching bones! world! world! thus is the poor agent despis'd! traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you set a work, and how ill requited! Why should our endeavour be so lov'd, and the 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 subdu'd in armed trail, 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 hiss.

Till then I'll sweat and seek about for eases, And at that time bequeath you my diseases. Exit

THE END