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SCENE VIII

Table of Contents

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! Now, 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 retreat upon our Grecian part.

MYRMIDON.

The Trojan 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 Trojan trail.

[Exeunt.]