Enter Agamemnon, Ajax, Menelaus, Neftor, Diomede, and the reft, marching.

Aga. Hark, hark, what shout is that?
Neft. Peace, drums.

Sol, Achilles! Achilles! Hector's flain, Achilles!
Dio. The bruit, is, Hector's flain, and by Achilles.
Ajax. If it is fo, yet braglefs let it be:
Great Hector was as good a man as he.

Aga. March patiently along: let one be sent
Το pray Achilles fee us at our tent.

If in his death the Gods have us befriended,
Great Troy is ours, and our sharp wars are ended. [Exe.
Enter Eneas, Paris, Antenor, and Deiphobus.

Ene. Stand, ho! yet are we mafters of the field; Never go home, here starve we out the night.

Enter Troilus.

Tro. Hector is flain.

All. Hector! the Gods forbid!

Troi. He's dead and at the murderer's horfe's tail
In beaftly fort dragg'd through the fhameful field.
Frown on, you heav'ns, effect your rage with speed;
Sit, Gods, upon your thrones, and fmile at Troy!
I fay, at once, let your brief plagues be mercy,
And linger not our fure deftructions on.

Ene. My Lord, you do discomfort all the hoft.
Troi. You understand me not, that tell me fo:
I do not speak of flight, of fear, of death,
But dare all imminence, that Gods and men
Addrefs their dangers in. Hector is gone!
Who fhall tell Priam fo? or Hecuba?
Let him that will a fcrietch owl ay be call'd,
Go into Troy, and fay there, Hector's dead:
That is a word will Priam turn to ftone;
Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives;
Cold ftatues of the youth; and, in a word,
Scare Troy out of itfelf. But march away,
Hector is dead: there is no more to say.

VOL. VII.

Stay

Stay yet, you vile abominable tents,

Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian plains:
Let Titan rife as early as he dare,

[coward!

I'll through and through you. And thou, great-fiz'd
No fpace of earth fhall funder our two hates;
I'll haunt thee, like a wicked conscience still,
That mouldeth goblins fwift as frenzy's thoughts.
Strike a free march to Troy! with comfort
Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe.
Enter Pandarus.

Pan. But hear you, hear you?

go:

Troi. Hence, brothel-lacquey; ignominy, shame.

[Strikes hims [Exeunt. Pan. A goodly med'cine for my aking bones! Oh world! world! world! thus is the poor agent defpis'd: Oh, traitors and bawds, how earneftly are you fet at work, and how ill requited? why fhould our endeavour be fo lov'd, and the performance fo loath'd? what verse for it? what inftance for it- -let me fee

Purfue thy life, and live ay with thy name!

Full merrily the humble-bee doth fing,
"Till he hath loft his honey and his fting;
But being once fubdued in armed tail,
Sweet honey and fweet notes together fail.

Good traders in the flesh, fet this in your painted cloths
As many as be here of Pandar's hall,

Your eye's half out, weep out at Pandar's fall;
Or if you cannot weep, yet give some groans,
Though not for me, yet for your aking bones.
Brethren and fifters of the hold door trade,
Some two months hence my will fhall here be made:
It should be now; but that my fear is this,
Some galled goofe of Winchester would hifs:
"Till then, I'll fweat, and feek about for cafes;
And at that time bequeath you my diseases..

END of the SEVENTH VOLUME,

[Exit.