Shakespeare - First Folio facsimile (1910)/The Tragedy of Troylus and Cressida/Act 5 Scene 8

by William Shakespeare

Enter Hector.

Hect.
Most putrified core so faire without:
Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life.
Now is my daies worke done; Ile take good breath:
Rest Sword, thou hast thy fill of bloud and death.

Enter Achilles and his Myrmidons.

Achil.
Looke Hector how the Sunne begins to set;
How vgly night comes breathing at his heeles,
Euen with the vaile and darking of the Sunne.
To close the day vp, Hectors life is done.

Hect.
I am vnarm'd, forgoe this vantage Greeke.

Achil.
Strike fellowes, strike, this is the man I seeke.
So Illion fall thou: now Troy sinke downe;
Here lyes thy heart, thy sinewes, and thy bone.
On Myrmidons, cry you all a maine,
Retreat.Achilles hath the mighty Hector slaine.
Harke, a retreat vpon our Grecian part.

Gree.
The Troian Trumpets sounds the like my Lord.

Achi.
The dragon wing of night ore-spreds the earth
And stickler-like the Armies seperates
My halfe supt Sword, that frankly would haue fed,
Pleas'd with this dainty bed; thus goes to bed.
Come, tye his body to my horses tayle;
Exeunt.Along the field, I will the Troian traile.
Sound Retreat.⁠Shout.

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