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Nest. Go, bear Patroclus' body to Achilles;
And bid the snail-pac'd Ajax arm for shame.---
There is a thousand Hectors in the field:
Now here he fights on Galathe his horse,

let, Diomed, has got that same scurvy doting fool-
ish young knave's sleeve of Troy there, in his helm:
I would fain see them meet; that that same young
Trojan ass, that loves the whore there, might send
that Greekish whoremaster villain, with the sleeve,
back to the dissembling luxurious drab, on a sleeve-
less errand. O'the other side, The policy of those
crafty swearing rascals,—that stale old mouse-eaten
dry cheese, Nestor; and that same dog-fox, Ulys-
ses,-is not proved worth a blackberry:-They set
me up, in policy, that mongrel cur, Ajax, against
that dog of as bad a kind, Achilles and now is
the cur Ajax prouder than the cur Achilles, and
will not arm to-day whereupon the Grecians be-
gin to proclaim barbarism, and policy grows into
an ill opinion. Soft! here come sleeve, and t'other.

Go, wind, to wind, there turn and change to-
My love with words and errors still she feeds;
But edifies another with her deeds. [Exe. severally.
SCENE IV-Between Troy and the Grecian
camp. Alarums: Excursions. Enter Thersites.
Ther. Now they are clapper-clawing one another;
I'll go look on. That dissembling abominable var-And there lacks work; anon, he's there afoot,
And there they fly, or die, like scaled sculls?
Before the belching whale; then is he yonder,
And there the strawy Greeks, ripe for his edge,
Fall down before him, like the mower's swath:
Here, there, and every where, he leaves, and takes
Dexterity so obeying appetite,
That what he will, he does; and does so much,
That proof is call'd impossibility.
Enter Ulysses.

Ulyss. O, courage, courage, princes! great

Enter Diomedes, Troilus following.

Tro. Fly not; for, should'st thou take the river
I would swim after.
Thou dost miscall retire:
I do not fly; but advantageous care
Withdrew me from the odds of multitude:
Have at thee!

Ther. Hold thy whore, Grecian !-now for thy whore, Trojan!-now the sleeve, now the sleeve! [Exeunt Troilus and Diomedes, fighting. Enter Hector.

Heet. What art thou, Greek? art thou for Hector's match?

Art thou of blood, and honour ?

Ther. No, no:-I am a rascal; a scurvy railing knave; a very filthy rogue.


Hect. I do believe thee;-live. Ther. God-a-mercy, that thou wilt believe me; But a plague break thy neck, for frighting me! What's become of the wenching rogues? I think, they have swallowed one another: I would laugh at that miracle. Yet, in a sort, lechery eats itself. I'll seek them. [Exit. SCENE V-The same. Enter Diomedes and a Servant.

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Appals our numbers; haste we, Diomed,
To reinforcement, or we perish all.
Enter Nestor.

Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance:
Patroclus' wounds have rous'd his drowsy blood,
Together with his mangled Myrmidons,
That noseless, handless, hack'd and chipp'd, come
to him,

Crying on Hector. Ajax hath lost a friend,
And foams at mouth, and he is arm'd, and at it,
Roaring for Troilus; who hath done to-day
Mad and fantastic execution;
Engaging and redeeming of himself,
With such a careless force, and forceless care,
As if that luck, in very spite of cunning,
Bade him win all.

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Enter Achilles.

Achil. Now do I see thee: Ha!-Have at thee,

Enter Achilles and Myrmidons.

Achil. Louk, Hector, how the sun begins to set; How ugly night comes breathing at his heels: Even with the veil and dark'ning of the sun, To close the day up, Hector's life is done. Hect. I am unarm'd: forego this vantage,5 Greek. Achil. Strike, fellows, strike; this is the man I seek. [Hector falls. [Exit. So, Ilion, fall thou next! now, Troy, sink down; well-Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone.— On, Myrmidons; and cry you all amain, Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain.

[A retreat sounded. Hark! a retreat upon our Grecian part. Myr. The Trojan trumpets sound the like, my


Hect. Pause, if thou wilt.

Achil. I do disdain thy courtesy, proud Trojan.
Be happy, that my arms are out of use:
My rest and negligence befriend thee now,
But thou anon shalt hear of me again;
Till when, go seek thy fortune.

Fare thee
I would have been much more a fresher man,
Had I expected thee.-How now, my brother?
Re-enter Troilus,

Tro. Ajax hath ta'en Æneas; Shall it be?
No, by the flame of yonder glorious heaven,
He shall not carry him; I'll be taken too,
Or bring him off:-Fate, hear me what I say!
I reck2 not though I end my life to-day.


Enter one in sumptuous armour.

Hect. Stand, stand, thou Greek; thou art a
goodly mark :-

No? wilt thou not?-I like thy armour well;
I'll frus it, and unlock the rivets all,
But I'll be master of it:-Wilt thou not, beast,

Why then, fly on, I'll hunt thee for thy hide.

Mar. Turn, slave, and fight.

Ther. What art thou?

[Exeunt. SCENE VII.-The same. Enter Achilles, with Myrmidons.

And, stickler like, the armies separates.
My half-supp'd sword, that frankly would have fed,
Pleas'd with this dainty bit, thus goes to bed.-
[Sheaths his sword.
Come, tie his body to my horse's tail;
Along the field I will the Trojan trail. [Exeunt.
SCENE X--The same. Enter Agamemnon,
Ajax, Menelaus, Nestor, Diomedes, and others,
marching. Shouts within.

Agam. Hark! hark! what shout is that?
Peace, drums.
Achilles !

Achilles! Hector's slain! Achilles!
Dio. The bruits 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.

Achil. Come here about me, you my Myrmidons;
Mark what I say -Attend me where I wheel:
Strike not a stroke, but keep yourselves in breath;
And when I have the bloody Hector found,
Agam. March patiently along :-Let one be sent
Empale him with your weapons round about; To pray Achilles see us at our tent.--
In fellest manner execute your arms.
If in his death the gods have us befriended,
Follow me, sirs, and my proceedings eye:
Great Troy is ours, and our sharp wars are ended.
It is decreed-Hector the great must die. [Exe.
[Exeunt, marching.
SCENE VIII-The same. Enter Menelaus SCENE XI.—Another part of the field. Enter
Eneas and Trojans.

and Paris, fighting: then Thersites.

Ther. The cuckold and the cuckold-maker are at it: Now, bull! now, dog! 'Loo, Paris, 'loo! now my double-henned sparrow! 'Loo, Paris, 'loo! The bull has the game:-'ware horns, bo! [Exeunt Paris and Menelaus. Enter Margarelon.

Mar. A bastard son of Priam's. Ther. I am a bastard too; I love bastards: I am a bastard begot, bastard instructed, bastard in mind, bastard in valour, in every thing illegitimate. One bear will not bite another, and wherefore should one bastard? Take heed, the quarrel's most ominous to us: if the son of a whore fight for a whore, he tempts judgment: Farewell, bastard.

Mar. The devil take thee, coward! [Exeunt. SCENE IX-Another part of the field. Enter Hector.

Hect. 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! [Puts off his helmet, and hangs his shield behind him.

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(1) Prevail over. (2) Care. (3) Burst. (4) Employ. (5) Take not this advantage. An arbitrator at athletic games.

Achil. The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the earth,

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

Enter Troilus.

Tro. Hector is slain.
Hector?-the gods forbid!
Tro. He's dead; and at the murderer's horse's

In beastly sort, dragg'd through the shameful field.--
Frown on, you heavens, effect your rage with speed!
Sit, gods, upon your thrones, and smile at Troy!
I say, at once let your brief plagues be mercy,
And linger not our sure destructions on!

Ene. My lord, you do discomfort all the host.
Tro. You understand me not, that tell me so :
I do not speak of flight, of fear, of death;
But dare all imminence, that gods and men
Address their dangers in. Hector is gone!
Who shall tell Priam so, or Hecuba?
Let him, that will a screech-owl aye9 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 pight10 upon our Phrygian plains,
(7) Fattening. (8) Noise, rumour.
(9) Ever.
(10) Pitched, fixed.

Let Titan rise as early as he dare,
I'll through and through you!-And thou, great-
siz'd coward!

No space
of earth shall sunder our two hates;
I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still,
That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy thoughts.
Strike a free march to Troy !-with comfort go:
Hope of revenge shall hide our inward wo.
[Exeunt Eneas and Trojans.
As Troilus is going out, enter from the other side,

Pan. But hear you, hear you!

Tro. Hence, broker lackey! ignomyl and shame Pursue thy life, and live aye2 with thy name!

[Exit Troilus. Pan. A goodly medicine for my aching bones!O world! world! world! thus is the poor agent despised! O traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you set a' work, and how ill requited! Why should our endeavour be so loved, 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 subdued in armed tail,
Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail.—
Good traders in the flesh, set this in your painted

This play is more correctly written than most of Shakspeare's compositions, but it is not one of those

in which either the extent of his views or elevation of his fancy is fully displayed. As the story abounded with materials, he has exerted little invention; but he has diversified his characters with great variety, and preserved them with great exactness. His vicious characters disgust, but cannot corrupt, for both Cressida and Pandarus are detested and contemned. The comic characters seem to have been the favourites the writer: they are the superficial kind, and exhibit more of manners, than nature; but they are copiously filled, and powerfully impressed. Shakspeare has in his story followed, for the greater part, the old book of Caxton, which was then very popular; but the character of Thersites, of which it makes no mention, is a proof

(1) Ignominy.

(2) Ever.

(3) Canvass hangings for rooms, painted with that this play was written after Chapman had pubemblems and mottoes.

lished his version of Homer.


As many as be here of panders' 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.


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GOOD day, sir.


I am glad you are well. Poet. I have not seen you long; How goes world?


Pain. It wears, sir, as it grows. Poet. Ay, that's well known: But what particular rarity? what strange, Which manifold record not matches? See, Magic of bounty! all these spirits thy power Hath conjur'd to attend. I know the merchant. Pain. I know them both; t'other's a jeweller. Mer. O, 'tis a worthy lord! Jew. Nay, that's most fix'd. Mer. A most incomparable man; breath'd,1 as it were,

To an untirable and continuate? goodness: He passes.3

Jew. I have a jewel here.

Mer. O, pray, let's see't: For the lord Timon, sir? Jew. If he will touch the estimate: But, for thatPoet. When we for recompense have prais'd the vile,

It stains the glory in that happy verse Which aptly sings the good.


'Tis a good form. [Looking at the jewel. Jew. And rich: here is a water, look you. Pain. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedi

cation To the great lord. Poet.

A thing slipp'd idly from me.

(1) Inured by constant practice. (2) For continual.

Two servants of Varro, and the Servant of Isi-
dore; two of Timon's creditors.
Cupid, and Maskers. Three Strangers.
Poet, Painter, Jeweller, and Merchant.
An old Athenian. A Page. A Fool.

Phrynia, Timandra,

mistresses to Alcibiades.

Other Lords, Senators, Officers, Soldiers, Thieves, and Attendants.

Scene, Athens; and the Woods adjoining.

Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes
From whence 'tis nourished: The fire i'the flint
Shows not, till it be struck; our gentle flame
Provokes itself, and, like the current, flies
Each bound it chafes. What have you there?
Pain. A picture, sir.-And when comes your
book forth?

Poet. Upon the heels of my presentment,4 sir. Let's see your piece.

'Tis a good piece.
Poet. So 'tis this comes off well and excellent.
Pain. Indifferent.

Poet. Admirable: How this grace Speaks his own standing! what a mental power This eye shoots forth! how big imagination Moves in this lip! to the dumbness of the gesture One might interpret.

Pain. It is a pretty mocking of the life. Here is a touch; Is't good?

Poet. I'll say of it, It tutors nature: artificial strife5 Lives in these touches, livelier than life.

Enter certain Senators, and pass over. Pain. How this lord's follow'd! Poet. The senators of Athens:-Happy men! Pain. Look, more!

Poet. You see this confluence, this great flood of visitors.

I have, in this rough work, shap'd out a man,
Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug
With amplest entertainment: My free drift
Halts not particularly,6 but moves itself
In a wide sea of wax: no levell'd malice
Infects one comma in the course I hold;
But flies an eagle flight, bold, and forth on,

(4) As soon as my book has been presented to Timon.

(5) i. e. The contest of art with nature. (6) My design does not stop at any particular

(2) 2. e. Exceeds, goes beyond common bounds. character.

Leaving no track behind.

Pain. How shall I understand you? Poet. You see how all conditions, how all minds (As well of glib and slippery creatures, as Of grave and austere quality,) tender down Their services to lord Timon: his large fortune, Upon his good and gracious nature hanging, Subdues and properties to his love and tendance All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-fac'd flatterer, 2

I'll unbolt! to you. And, being enfranchis'd, bid him come to me :
'Tis not enough to help the feeble up,
But to support him after.-Fare you well.
Ven. Serv. All happiness to your honour! [Ex.
Enter an old Athenian.

To Apemantus, that few things loves better Than to abhor himself: even he drops down The knee before him, and returns in peace Most rich in Timon's nod.

Pain. I saw them speak together. Poet. Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill, Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd: The base o'the


Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures,
That labour on the bosom of this sphere
To propagate their states :3 amongst them all,
Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix'd,
One do I personate of lord Timon's frame,
Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her;|
Whose present grace to present slaves and servants
Translates his rivals

'Tis conceiv'd to scope.
This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks,||
With one man beckon'd from the rest below,
Bowing his head against the steepy mount
To climb his happiness, would be well express'd
In our condition.

Poet. Nay, sir, but hear me on: All those which were his fellows but of late (Some better than his value,) on the moment Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance, Rain sacrificial whisperings4 in his ear, Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him Drink5 the free air.

Ay, marry, what of these?
Poet. When Fortune, in her shift and change of

Spurns down her late-belov'd, all his dependants, Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top, Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down, Not one accompanying his declining foot.

Pain. 'Tis common:

A thousand moral paintings I can show
That shall demonstrate these quick blows of fortune
More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well
To show lord Timon, that mean eyes have seen
The foot above the head.

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Tim. Commend me to him: I will send his ransom;


Ven. Serv. Your lordship ever binds him.

(1) Open, explain.

(2) One who shows by reflection the looks of his patron,

Old Ath. Lord Timon, hear me speak.
Freely, good father.
Old Ath. Thou hast servant nam'd Lucilius.
Tim. I have so: what of him?

Old Ath. Most noble Timon, call the man before thee.

Tim. Attends he here, or no?-Lucilius!
Enter Lucilius.

Luc. Here, at your lordship's service.

Old Ath. This fellow here, lord Timon, this thy creature,

By night frequents my house. I am a man
That from my first have been inclin'd to thrift:
And my estate deserves an heir more rais'd,
Than one which holds a trencher.


Well; what further? Old Ath. One only daughter have I, no kin else, On whom I may confer what I have got: The maid is fair, o'the youngest for a bride, And I have bred her at my dearest cost, In qualities of the best. This man of thine Attempts her love: I pr'ythee, noble lord, Join with me to forbid him her resort; Myself have spoke in vain.

Tim. The man is honest. Old Ath. Therefore he will be, Timon: His honesty rewards him in itself, It must not bear my daughter.


Old Ath. She is young, and apt:
Our own precedent passions do instruct us
What levity's in youth.

Tim. [To Lucilius.] Love you the maid?
Luc. Ay, my good lord, and she accepts of it.
Old Ath. If in her marriage my consent be

Does she love him?

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Tim. This gentleman of mine hath served me long;

To build his fortune, I will strain a little,
For 'tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter.
What you bestow, in him I'll counterpoise,
And make him weigh with her.

Old Ath.

Most noble lord, Pawn me to this your honour, she is his. Tim. My hand to thee; mine honour on my promise.

Luc. Humbly I thank your lordship: Never may That state or fortune fall into my keeping, Which is not ow'd to you!

[Exeunt Lucilius and old Athenian. Poet. Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship!

Tim. I thank you; you shall hear from me anon: Go not away. What have you there, my friend?

(3) To advance their conditions of life. (4) Whisperings of officious servility. (5) Inhale. (6) i. e. Inferior spectator

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