Title: Trolius And Cressida
Book: Act V.
Author: Shakespeare, William
Date: 1602

Scene X. Another Part of the Plains

Enter Aeneas and Trojan Foroea,

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

Enter Troilus.

Tro. Hector is slain.

All. Hector! The gods forbid!

Tro. He's dead; and at the murderer's horse's tail,
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!

Aene. 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 aye 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 pight upon our Phrygian plains,
Let Titan rise as early as he dare,
I'll through and through you! And thou great-sized coward,
No space of earth shall sunder our two hates:
I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still,
That mouldeth gobline swift as frenzies thoughts.
Strike a free march to Troy! with comfort go:
Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe,
[Exeunt Aeneas and Trojan Forces.

As Troilus is going out, enter, from the other side, Pandarus.

Pan. But hear you, hear you!

Tro. Hence, broker-lackey! ignomy and shame
Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name!
[Exit.

Pan. A goodly medicine for mine 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 marrily the humble-bas 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 cloths.
As many as be here of pandar's 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 as mads:
It should be now, but that my fear is this,
Some called goons of Winchester would hiss,
Till then I'll sweat, and sock about for eases;
And at that time bequeath you my diseases.
[Exit.