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Go, wind, to wind, there turn and change to- Appals our numbers; haste we, Diomed,
To reinforcement, or we perish'all.
Nest. Go, bear Patroclus' body to Achilles ;
, Diomed, has got that same scurvy doating fool. And there they fly, or die, like scaled sculls:
Ulyss. O courage, courage, princes! great that dog of as bad a kind, Achilles : and now is
Achilles the cur Ajax prouder than the cur Achilles, and Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance: will not arm to-day: whereupon the Grecians begin Patroclus' wounds have rous’d his drowsy blood, to proclaim barbarism, and policy grows into an ill Together with his mangled Myrmidons, opinion. Soft! here come sleeve, and t'other.
That noseless, handless, hack'd and chippd, come
Crying on Hector. Ajax hath lost a friend,
Roaring for Troilus; who hath done to-day
Mad and fantastic execution;
Thou dost miscall retire : Engaging and redeeming of himself,
With such a careless force, and forceless care,'
Bade him win all).
Ajax. Troilus ! thou coward Troilus ! [Exil. [Ereunt Troilus and Diomedes, fighting. Dio.
Ay, there, ihere.
Nest. So, so, we draw together.
Where is this Hector ? Art thou of blood, and honour ?
Come, come, thou boy-queller, * show thy face; Ther. No, no:-1 am rascal; a scurvy railing Know what it is to meet Achilles angry: knave; a very filthy rogue.
Hector! where's Hector? I will none but Hector.
Dio. Troilus, I say! where's 'Troilus!
What would'st thou ?
Dio. I would correct him.
Ajax. Were I the general, thou should'st have
my office, And am her knight by proof.
Ere that correction:-Troilus, I say! what, Troilus ! I go, my lord.
Enter Troilus. (Exit Servant.
Tro. O traitor Diomed!-turn thy false face, thou Enter Agamemnon.
Dio. Ha! art thou there?
Ajax. I'll fight with him alone: stand, Diomed.
Dio. He is my prize, I will not look upon.' Upon the pashed corses of the kings
Tro. Come both, you cogginge Greeks; have at Epistrophus and Cedius: Polixenes is slain;
(Exeunt, fighting Amphimachus, and Thoas, deadly hurt;
Hec. Yea, Troilus? O, well fought, my youngest
brother. (1) Lance.
(2) Bruised, crushed.
I'll seek them.
Enter Achilles and Myrmidons. Achil. Now do I see thee: Ha!-Have at thee, Achil. Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set; Hector.
How ugly night comes breathing at his heels: Hect. Pause, if thou wilt.
Even with the veil and dark’ning of the sun, Achil. I do disdain thy courtesy, proud Trojan. To close the day up, Hector's life is done. Be happy, that my arms are out of use:
Hect. I am unarm'd: forego this vantage," Greek. My rest and negligence befriend thee now,
Achil. Strike, fellows, strike; this is the man I But thou anon shalt hear of me again ;
(Hector falls. Till when, go seek thy fortune.
[Exit. So, Ilion, fall thou next! now, Troy, sink down; Hect.
Fare thee well : Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone.I would have been much more a fresher man, On, Myrmidons; and cry you all amain, Had I expected thee.-How now, my brother ? Achille's hath the mighty Hector slain.
[A retreat sounded, Re-enter Troilus.
Hark! a retreat upon our Grecian part. Tro. Ajax hath ta'en Æneas ; Shall it be?
Myr. The Trojan trumpets sound the like, my No, by the flame of yonder glorious heaven,
lord. He shall not carry' him; I'll be taken too,
Achil. The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the Or bring him off:-Fate, hear me what I say!
earth, I recko not though I end my life to-day. [Exit. And, stickler''like, the armies separate. Enter one in sumptuous armour.
My hall-supp'd sword, that frankly' would have fed, Hect. Stand, stand, thou Greek; thou art a
Pleas'd with this dainty bit, thus goes to bed.
[Sheaths his sword. goodly mark:No? wili thou not ?-I like thy armour well;
Come, tie his body to my horse's tail;
Along the field I will the Trojan trail. (Exeunt. I'll frush' it, and unlock the rivets all, But I'll be master of it :-Wilt thou not, beast, SCENE X.—The same. Enter Agamemnon, abide ?
Ajax, Menelaus, Nestor, Diomedes, and others, Why then, fly on, I'll hunt thee for thy hide. marching. Shouts within.
[Exeunt. Agam. Hark! hark! what shout is that? SCENE VII.--The same. Enter Achilles, with Nest.
Peace, drums. Myrmidons. (Wihin.)
Achilles ! Achil. Come here about me, you my Myrmidons; Dio. The bruit is-Hector's slain, and by Achilles.
Achilles ! Hector's slain! Achilles !
Ajax. If it be so, yet bragless let it be;
Agam. March patiently along :-Let one be sent In fellest manner execute“ your arms.
To pray Achilles see us at our tent.Follow me, sirs, and my proceedings eye ;
If in his death the gods have us befriended, It is decreed-Hector the great must dic. [Exe.
Great Troy is ours, and our sharp wars are ended.
(Exeunt, marching. SCENE VIll. The same. Enter Menelaus SCENE XI. Another part of the field. Enter and Paris, fighting: then Thersites.
Æneas and Trojans. Ther. The cuckold and the cuckold-maker are
Ene. Stand, ho! yet are we masters of the field: at it: Now, bull! now, dog! 'Loo, Paris, 'loo! Never go home; here starve we out the night. now my double-henned sparrow! 'Loo, Paris, 'loo !
Enter Troilus. The bull has the game :-ware horns, ho!
(Exeunt Paris and Menelaus. Tro. Hector is slain. Enter Margarelon.
Hector ?-the gods forbid ! Mar. Turn, slave, and fight.
Tro. He's dead; and at the murderer's horse's
tail, Ther. What art thou ? Mar. A bastard son of Priam's.
In beastly sort, drago'd through the shameful field.Ther. I am a bastard too; I love bastards : 1 Sit, gods, upon your thrones, and smile at Troy!
Frown on, you heavens, effect your rage with speed! am a bastard begot, bastard instructed, bastard in mind, bastard in valour, in every thing illegitimate. And linger not our sure destructions on!
say, at once let your brief plagues be mercy, One bear will not bite another, and wherefore
Ene. My lord, you do discomfort all the host. should one bastard ? Take heed, the quarrel's most ominous to us: if the son of a whore fight for a I do not speak of flight, of fear, of death ;
Tro. You understand me not, that tell me so: whore, he tempts judgment: Farewell, bastard.
But dare all imminence, that gods and men Mar. The devil take thee, coward ! (Exeunt. Address their dangers in. Hector is gone! SCENE IX. Another part of the field. Enter Let him, that will a screech-owl aye be call?d,
Who shall tell Priam so, or Hecuba ?
Go in to Troy, and say there-Hector's dead :
[Puts off his helmet, and hangs his shield Hector is dead; there is no more to say.
Stay yet ;-You vile abominable tents,
Thús proudly pight° upon our Phrygian plains, (1) Prevail over. (2) Care. (3) Burst. (4) Employ. (5) Take not this advantage.
(8) Noise, rumour, 16) An arbitrator at athletic games,
(9) Ever. (10) Pitched, fixed.
Let Titan rise as early as he dare,
As many as be here of panders' hall,
Or, if you cannot weep, yet give some groans,
And, at that time, bequeath you my diseases.
Tro. Hence, broker lackey! ignomy' and shame
[Erit Troilus. This play is more correctly written than most of Pan. A goodly med'cine for my aching bones ! – Shakspeare's compositions, but it is not one of those O world! world! world! thus is the poor agent in which cither the extent of his views or elevation despised ! O traitors and bawds, how earnestly are of his fancy is fully displayed. As the story aboundyou set a' work, and how ill requited! Why shoula ed with materials, he has exerted little inventior; our endeavour be so loved, and the performance so but he has diversified his characters with great loathed? what verse for it? what instance for it ?- variety, and preserved them with great exactness. Let me see:
His vicious characters disgust, but cannot corrupt, Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing,
for both Cressida and Pandarus are detested and
contemned. The comic characters seem to have Till he hath lost his honey, and his sting: And being once subdued in armed tail,
been the favourites of the writer: they are of the
superficial kind, and exhibit more of manners, than Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail.
nature; but they are copiously filled, and powerGood traders in the flesh, set this in your painted fully impressed.' Shakspeare has in his story folcloths.
lowed, for the greater part, the old book of Caxton,
which was then very popular; but the character of (1) Ignominy. (2) Ever.
Thersites, of which it makes no mention, is a proof Canvass hangings for rooms, painted with that this play was written after Chapman had pubemblems and mottoes,
lished his version of Homer. JOHNSON.
Good day, sir.
Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes
From whence 'tis nourished: The fire i'the flint SCENE I.-Athens. A hall in Timon's house. Shows not, till it be struck ; our gentle flame
Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and Provokes itself, and, like the current, flies others, at several doors.
Each bound it chases. What have you there?
Pain. A picture, sir.–And when comes your Poet.
Poet. Upon the heels of my presentment,* sir. Pain.
I am glad you are well. Let's see your piece. Poet. I have not seen you long; How goes the
'Tis a good piece. world ?
Poet. So 'tis: this comes off' well and excellent. Pain. It wears, sir, as it grows.
Admirable : How this grace But what particular rarity ? what strange,
Speaks his own standing! what a mental power Which manifold record not matches? See,
This eye shoots forth! how big imagination Magic of bounty! all these spirits thy power
Moves in this lip! to the dumbness of the gesture
Here is a touch; Is't good ?
I'll say of it, Mer. A most incomparable man; breath’d,' as It tutors nature: artificial strife it were,
Lives in these touches, livelier than life.
Enter certain Senators, and
Pain. How this lord's follow'd ! Mer. O, pray let's see't: For the lord Timon, sir ? Poet. The senators of Athens:–Happy men! Jew. If he will touch the estimate: But, for that Pain. Look, more! Poet. When we for recompense have prais'd the Poet. You see this confluence, this great flood of vile,
visitors. It stains the glory in that happy verse
I have, in this rough work, shap'd out a man, Which aptly sings the good.
Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug Mer.
'Tis a good form. With amplest entertainment: My free drift
(Looking at the jewel. Halts not particularly, but moves itself Jero. And rich: here is a water, look you. In a wide sea of wax: no leveli'd malice Pain. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedi- Infests one comma in the course I hold; cation
But flies an eagle flight, bold, and forth on, To the great lord. Poet. A thing slipp'd idly from me. (4) As soon as my book has been presented to
Timon. (1) Inured by constant practice.
(5) 1. e. The contest of art with nature. (2) For continual.
(6) My design does not stop at any particular (3) i. e. Exceeds, goes beyond common bounds. Icharacter.