Troilus and Cressida

SCENE VIII. Another part of the plain.

Enter Hector.

HECTOR.
Most putrified core so fair without,
Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life.
Now is my day’s work done; I’ll take my breath:
Rest, sword; thou hast thy fill of blood and death!

[Disarms.]

Enter Achilles and Myrmidons.

ACHILLES.
Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set,
How ugly night comes breathing at his heels;
Even with the vail and dark’ning of the sun,
To close the day up, Hector’s life is done.

HECTOR.
I am unarm’d; forego this vantage, Greek.

ACHILLES.
Strike, fellows, strike; this is the man I seek.

[Hector falls.]

So, Ilion, fall thou next! Now, Troy, sink down;
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 retire upon our Grecian part.

MYRMIDON.
The Trojan trumpets sound the like, my lord.

ACHILLES.
The dragon wing of night o’erspreads the earth
And, stickler-like, the armies separates.
My half-supp’d sword, that frankly would have fed,
Pleas’d with this dainty bait, thus goes to bed.

[Sheathes his sword.]

Come, tie his body to my horse’s tail;
Along the field I will the Trojan trail.

[Exeunt.]