University of Virginia Library

ACTUS Tertius

SCENA Prima.

Cassandra SOLA.
Cass.
It is decreed, thy dreadful Fate O Troy;
The Gods own City now they will not spare;
I see it plain in all the Signs of Heav'n;
My Eyes peirce farther yet, above the Arch
Where Jove himself does dwell, I see it written,
The Legend of unhappy Priam's Issue
The loss of thee, and all the fifty Sons.
In deep and horrid awful Characters,
Fate fetch'd from Hell did grave it, and the God
With his own mighty voice did dictate,
Thy proud, and lofty Walls must tumble down,
And all thy golden Pinnacles must burn
In Flames less bright, that now out shine the Sun,
Thy Swords, and Spears to harmless Plow-shares turn;
Rich blood shall fat the Tillage of thy Land,
And Corn shall grow where lofty Ilium stands.—
Strike, strike, me dumbe O all ye Gods severe!
Why do I speak your Words when none will hear?
In vain I told that Hecuba's lov'd Boy
Shou'd be the Fire, that wou'd consume thee, Troy.
With wringing hands I stood upon the Shore,
And curs'd the Fleet, that brought this Strumpet or'e,
And had they but believ'd this Tongue of mine,
Or minded these prophetick Eyes that wept,
They might have still their lost Palladium kept.
How much more wretched are we born
That know Events, than they that know 'em not,
Look pale, and meager, like old Envy's Hag,
At Mischeifs that we see presumptuous men
Grow fat and wallow in—
Fill'd with a Legion of prophetick Spirits,
Against my will I'm driven to and fro,
To try if I can at the last resist,
And stem the Torrent of these head-long Brothers—
They come—I'le go, and stop 'em at the brink
Of Ruin.

Exit Cassandra at one door. As she is going off, Enter Hector and Andromache, (Captains putting on his Armour) at another door.
Hect.
Well, thou hast brought me to the place of Conquest—
Wilt thou now leave me dear Andromache?
Leave me to pull the Prize of Victory
From the proud head of Thetis Son, and then
I'le crown thee with my green triumphant Lawrels,
Restore the Palm to her by whom it grew.
The King, and all the Trojans wait for thee,
To make th'Assembly perfect with thy Presence.
Go my propitious Goddess, and behold me
From thy Imperial Scaffold like the Sun,
Till Death is charm'd with thy reflection—
Give me my Arms.—

[Captain offers him his Arms]
And.
Hold off thy sacriligous hands—
Now, by my Hopes, I'le dress thee for my Soldier;
Then if thou meet'st with any Ill to day,
Andromache's unfortunate to thee,
Who bids thee go, and fight this once for me.—
These hands, whose soft Embraces thou did'st feel,
Shall clasp thy body round with hardn'd steel—
First let me place this Croslet on thy Neck.

Hect.
So Venus deck'd the am'rous God of War.

And.
Achilles Arms, by Cyclops hammers beat,
Have not the Fire these kisses do create?
My lips shall forge, and make it more divine—
Receive this Scarf—but from no hand but mine—
Save thou my Lord's most dear, and precious Head,
Whose awful Front has struck the Coward dead,
And in its Beaver lock that Godlike Face,
Which Venus wou'd adore instead of Mars—
Here, take thy Sword, whole Herds of Grecians fear,
More fatal than the great Palladium's Spear;
Fledg'd with a wrong'd invet'rate Woman's smart,
Commend it from me, to Achilles Heart;
From thy Andromache this token bear;
Send it as quick, as I cou'd wish it there.—
Go Son of Priam, meet the Son of Thetis;
My heart foretells thou shalt return my Victor.
For now with greater Joy, I part with thee,
Than, when at first I took thee in these Arms,
The greatest Champion, and the best of Lovers.

Hect.
Enough, thou beauteous Charmer of my Soul,
Achilles now is less immortal, than
My self—These Tears, the pretious signs of Joy,
Which flow from the rich Fountains of thy Eyes,
Have made me sacred, and impenetrable,
And every kiss has kindled in my Veins
Immortal Fire, and sent inliv'ning heat
Through all my Sinews—I shall grow too big,
And stretch my Body with a Fury so divine,
Will burst this Iron mold—Let me go straight;
I wou'd not choose to be Achilles now,
That boasts how he was dipp'd in Acheron,
That Jove cull'd from his precious Magazine,
The choicest Arms, and gave it Thetis for her Son—
Heark, heark, they call—Wilt thou let go thy Champion?

And.
Go then, my Dear, and fly thou from my Arms,
Like a fierce Lion that is loos'd, and seize
Upon this Grecian Giant for thy Prey,
Whom thou hast hunted for so long—
Yet let me stay thee but a moment more,
And then rush on—

Hect.
Like thunder from the Heavens—

Whilst Hector and Andromache talk, Enter to them Paris, and Troilus ready for the Fight, with them Helena, and Polixena.
Troi.
Priam's dear Daughter, and my dearer Sister,
Go and behold me, shame thy causeless Fears—
Thy erring Fondness I wou'd shun.

Polyx.
I wish you had not been to fight to day;
Something so fatal hangs about my Heart—
You are the only Brother that I fondly love;
If you shou'd be unhappy, and miscarry!—
Gods! I can speak no more—Pardon, O pardon
These sad, abrupt; I wish 'em not ill-boding Tears.

Troi.
Dearest Polyxena, you are to blame.

Par.
No more my Helen—Think'st thou that the Goddess
Who made thee mine, when on Mount Ida's Top,
I gave thee Prize of Beauty from all Heav'n
To her, and for thy sake refus'd the Crown
Of all the World, and Wisdom of Apollo;
Think'st thou that she can be so much ingrateful
To part us, and our Loves so soon, when I
Refus'd so rich, and mighty Bribes for thee?

Hel.
Blame me not now the trembling hour's so nigh.

Hect.
Again the Trumpet calls—Now they are come.

And.
Then I will let thee go—Blow yet more loud,
Till thy shrill Sound shall peirce the highest Cloud;
Thou shalt not raise thy Voice to such a height,
As I will gladly answer thee a' comes,
He comes, arm'd by Andromache with Love,
And Valour, that shall draw just admiration
From th'envious Deities—Take this last token
Of an assur'd, and happy Victory—
[Kisses him.]
Go, go, I'le pull my Eyes from thy dear sight
Least thou shou'dst stay too long, and look no more,
Till I behold rich Blood adorn thy Sheild,
Like drops of Coral on the spangl'd shore—
Answer me not, but go, possess the Field,
'Tis thine my Champion—
What idle Tears are these Polyxena?

Polix.
Go Troilus, thou hast a Virgin's chast
And dearest wishes for thee.

Exeunt, Andromache (leading Polyxena) and Helena at one door.
Enter Cassandra, at another door.
Enter Cassandra at another door meeting the Brothers, as they are just going off.
Cass.
Stand ye rash Boys, and hear the voice of Fate;
Believe Cassandra once, before too late.

Paris.
Thou frightful Hag, thou stain to Priam's blood,
Advance no further—
Thou art more dreadful than a gaping Flood;
A Spirit damn'd, burst from it's flinty Womb,
Is not so fatal—Fly this foul Inchantress;
Thick mists of Devils follow where she comes,
And proclaim nought, but horrour, and despair,
Threatning worse Plagues, than Battails in the Air.

Troi.
Disturb us not Cassandra with thy Zeal;
Calm thy prophetick Rage, and smile upon us—
Speak once that we may bless thee for the News.

Hect.
Still dost thou haunt us? tell what fury now,
Has here inspir'd thee, with so curst a Brow?
Why hast thou left thy fond religious Cloister,
And now again torment'st us with thy Cries,
Wounding thy Blood with Scourges in thy Eyes?—
Say—Let us go—

Cass.
Ye cannot stir, if you will hear me speak,
Or if you do, I'le stop you with a Flood,
And drown your way, with Currents from my Eyes;
If that wont do, I'le peirce into the Vrnes
Of famous Ilus, Dardanus, and Troas,
Rip op'n the Monuments of your Ancosters,
And dig your Fathers out with these hard Nails,
That you may see the groning Spirits that you wake.

Par.
She's mad, and wou'd infect us all—

Cass.
'Tis thou art mad, thou Firebrand, thou Cerberus—
O that I cou'd but blot thy fatal Birth
Out of Mortalitie's Records—
How happy wou'd it be for Troy, or else
That thou hadst perish'd on Mount Ida's Top,
Or liv'd a base, and homely Shepherd still.—
O give me leave to tear this Monster in my fury,
To reach the burning Hell about his heart,
And fright that blazing Spirit from its seat,
That sets us all on flames.

Hect.
Resist us not this time—Go and return
Cassandra to thy melancholy Cell,
Consult the Gods above, and they will tell thee,
The Courages of Hector and his Brothers
Are quite above the Fates.

Cass.
Stay rash, yet thou most truly noble, Hector;
Stay Troilus; my love to thee, thou knowest,
Must speak thee well—Beware this fatal day,
Beware Alcides Race—I speak to both;
Let not the unborn World to come, record
With sorrow, that the Brave, and Valiant Hector
Fell by a hand, less worthy than his own.

Par.
O mind her not; Zeal and fond Abstinence
Has made her quite distracted.

Cass.
Hear first what Pallas says, and guess by that,
As you have ever found my words prove true;
Her Image still had kept your Walls and Towers,
Had you believ'd her Oracle by me—
Late at her Altar, as I lay last Night,
Piercing the Parian-stones with my loud Cries,
Softning the Steps with penetrating tears
For you ingrateful Brothers, for whom, in vain
I've spent whole Floods, and rais'd my tender Voice
Above the lofty sound of winds to reach your Ears,
Yet all were lost, and spent in vain upon you,
Your yet more unrelenting marble-hearts:
A sacred Vision all my Senses laid,
And Sun-beams in the Temple round displayd,
When straight a heav'nly awful Form I spi'd,
At whose almighty Voice, the Gates flew wide;
These words, like divine Thunder a' did roar,
“The work of Fate is done—
“For Priam, and his Sons are now no more.
Then, as I look'd, me thought, that by my side,
Did the great Myrmidonian Captain stand
With an advanc'd, and bloody Weapon in his hand—
Villain, said I, whose blood has stain'd thy Sword?
'Tis thine a' cri'd, Hector's, and Troilus,
The last of all the Race of Priam's Sons
But Paris, least unworthy of his death by me,
And him I come to find within these Walls.

Hect.
Mark not her words, I fear she is suborn'd
By Agamemnon and the Grecian Captains,
That mean to laugh us all to scorn—Hence forth
Be dumb—Come on—'Tis Hector leads you on.

Cass.
Ah! let me hold thee, gentle Troilus;
These Armes, more soft, than the great Grecian Champions,
Knew'st thou the danger, wou'd not be deni'd—
By heav'n, if thou dost stir from hence to fight,
Achilles Sword shall give thee death to day.
Ah! do not go, unnatural bold Brothers,
For aged Priam's sake, and Hecuba's.
Look back upon that great, and goodly Structure,
A City that so many thousand weak,
And helpless Souls contains, if you rash men
The Strength, and Pillars of that mighty Frame,
Shou'd sink, how soon wou'd it decline, and falling,
Crush us, and overwhelm us all with Ruin

Troi.
Take off thy hands—fond Woman thou shalt see,
My Life's beyond the reach of Prophesy.

Exeunt Brothers.
Cass.
Go then—
Be curst, and perish to the worst degree
Of unbeliev'd, and unavoided Destiny;
And may Cassandra's Voice henceforth infect
The Air, and breath eternal Plagues through all
The World, if what I've said shall never come
To pass, nor will I open any more
These slighted Lips of mine in thy behalf,
O despicable Troy—
Trumpets sound within.
The Trumpets sound—The Gods have summond ye,
Bold Ilium's Sons—bend, your stubborn Necks:
For now, behold, the pompous Scene of Fate begins.
Exit Cassandra.

As Cassandra is going off, the SCENE opens, and discovers all the Grecian Princes, but Achilles on one side, and Priamus attended on the other side, sitting in State. Ulysses, Pratroclus, and Menelaus arm'd for the Combat, come upon the Stage, and meet Andromache, Helen, and Polyxena going to take their Seats. Patroclus in the Armour of Achilles.
Dio.
Summon the Trojan Champions to the Lists.

Pri.
Ye may—
Yet doubt not, but they will too soon appear.

Men.
Hold me Ulysses, and support me with
Thy Counsel, and thy Arms: for I am struck,
As if I had been blasted by some Planet—
Her dang'rous Eyes, who can withstand 'em here!
Those fatal Lamps that shine, and rule ith' Sky,
Look not so bright, nor do they wound so nigh.

Ulyss.
Bear up, and shake her Subtile Charms away;
Look on Revenge, more sweet, and bright than They.

Men.
Help me ye Powers! I'le cross her as She goes—
O Gods! How swell'd with shameless Pride She showes!—
Canst thou behold, without a modest Fear,
[makes toward Helen.]
This walking Image of thy Falsehood here,
That gloriously durst meet me in this place,
When thou read'st Grief, and Vengeance in my Face?
Fear'st thou not, Mountains shou'd upon thee fall,
And hurry into Hell thy perjur'd Soul—
How I cou'd curse, and please my heart to rail,
But when I view those once lov'd Eyes, I fail.

Hel.
You do ill Menelaus
To tax me now with Falshood, or with Pride,
When I come thus all kindness to your side,
Winding your Malice up at such a rate
For you to pour its Vengeance on the Man you hate;—
I'le go and be an equal Judge to prove,
Which can do most, for Hatred, or for Love.

Men.
O Impudence! whose weight the World might sink,
Beyond the reach of Womans Soul to think—
Ah, let me call to mind thy cunning Lies,
Thy many oft repeated Perjuries—
Before the Priest our eager Joys had crown'd,
And we walk'd o're the rich enamell'd Ground,
As o're the Meadows, and the Lawns we trod,
Thou like a Goddess, I thy Sylvan God;
Fair as Elysium, I those Walks wou'd call,
And thee, than Beautie's first Original,
Still we went on, with loving Arms combin'd,
Our Eyes mix'd Light, and all our Senses joyn'd.
Am I not kind, said you, with fatal Smiles?
The Ivy clasping so, the Oak beguiles,
Whose treach'rous kindness Root and Branches kills.

Hel.
O me! For pitty I'le be gone—
I fear you will Relaps, and grow too Weak.

Men.
Nay, you shall see your Self, and hear me Speak,
And when I have said all, this Heart shall break.—
Then, with a longing Sigh, you'd cry, my Dear,
And on my Trembling hand, let fall a Tear,
Will you be Mine, and be for ever True?
May I be Curst when I am false to you.
Cou'dst thou more Vows repeat, and Oaths recal,
Thou then hadst said, and then hadst broak 'em All.

Dio.
Prepare; the Trojan Champions are all ready,
And proudly walk around the Lists.

Men.
Farwell to thee, and Faithless Love for ever.

Enter Hector, Paris and Troilus.
Ulyss.
Now Menelaus.—

Men.
Ulysses, thou shalt see, with Wonder too,
What Injuries of Love can make me do.

Dio.
First Grecian Trumpets sound, and then the Trojans.—
Is it declar'd that all Advantages be taken?
And that the Champions on both sides shall Fight
The Mortal Combat?

Hect.
It is, all ways, all bloody Paths to Death
Shall here be trod with swiftest Fury,
That lead to each Proud Adversaries Heart.

Ulyss.
Agreed.

Par.
Come Sir, 'tis You and I must now dispute
[To Men.]
For the rich Prize, the Beauty of the World.—
Behold the Star that shines upon us both
With equal Charms, and Glorious Influence;
The Gods have her to the brave Victor giv'n,
He that Survives shall Reign alone in Heav'n.

Men.
Though I Loath her, whom thou dost call so Bright,
Yet I do Hate thee worse with whom I Fight,
And for that Reason, will, when thou art Dead,
Rather embrace a Serpent in my Bed.

Hect.
Who have we here, Patroclus!
I came prepar'd to meet the great Achilles—
What, has a' sent, to mock me, this tame Beast?
Or thinks to fright me with his Lion's-Skin?

Patr.
Hector shall find there's no such mighty Ods
Betwixt Achilles, and his dear Friend's Breast
That wears the Royal Gift.

Dio.
If the first Champion falling be a Grecian,
Then let the Trojan Trumpets sound aloud,
And Voices pierce the Air with Shouts from Earth
To Heav'n, or if a Trojan first be Slain,
Then let the Grecians do the like—
Now all begin, and the kind Gods direct
Your better Fortunes.

Ulyss.
Come Noble Troilus.

And.
The Gods assist my Hector.

[From behind.]
Polyx.
And my dear Brother Troilus.

[From behind.]
They all Fight, Patroclus is kill'd, and Paris falls upon Menelaus. Trojan Trumpets sound.
Hect.
Thou wert not dipp'd in Acheron I'm sure.

Hel.
Hold, Paris, hold, and spare his Life.

[From behind.]
Par.
Live then—See, I obey your Absolute,
And Indisputable Commands.

Patr.
Achilles, never grudge Patroclus's Death,
Since he falls Bravely by the hand of Hector.

[Dies.]
Men.
O ye dread Gods! In what was I too blame!—
Where shall I hide my hated Head for Shame!

Andromache, Helen, and Polyxena, come upon the Stage.
And.
Let me adore my Hector now, and worship thee,
Thou Shield of Troy, Defender of thy Country,
And far more awful than the God of War.

Polyx.
Ah! let me kiss this shining Sword of thine,
That has defended my dear Brother's heart.

Ulyss.
You Troilus, and I may meet again
In Fight, where we may hunt each other forth,
And finish this Dispute, some happier Time.

Aga.
Dismiss the Field—Convey, with Shouts of Joy,
The noble Victors to the Gates of Troy—
To you great Priamus, we yield the Day—
Bear hence the mournful Body of Patroclus,
And no remorse be had—We are all Friends
To Day, aad Enemies to Morrow.

SCENE Closes, manent only the Women, and the Champions of both sides.
Hect.
Let us Embrace, and then Return all Three.

Troi.
And thank th'Almighty Gods that we are Free
From Curs'd Cassandra's spightful Prophesy.

Enter to them Achilles with his Myrmidons in a Rage, meeting the Body of Patroclus bearing off the Stage. The Myrmidons make towards the Brothers as they are going out, which makes them Return.
Ach.
Where, where is Hector? Run, and overtake him!
Down, down, ye Melancholy Slaves,
Down with your Sacred Burthen of my Friend—
Myrmidons lay down the Body, and Achilles and they Kneel.
Let me receive this Kiss from his pale Lips,
And catch the dear remainder of his Soul,
That whispers his Revenge into my Breast—
Bow down ye Myrmidons, your heads with mine,
And Swear with me by this forsaken Shrine,
Eternal, and implacable Revenge—
Fall on, fall on, and Guard your Master's Life—
I'le Sacrifice a thousand Hectors.

Hect.
Advance my Guards on these bold Myrmidons—
Brothers, stand Firm, and strive with me to tame
The Fury of this mad Hyrcanian Beast.

Ulyss.
Hold, hold Achilles—Spirit full rash Man,
Bold Thetis Son, stain not the Blood from whence
Thou art descended, lest the God that gave
Thee Birth, shou'd strike thee Dead in this fond Action—
Our Gene'rall Agamemnon's Royal Breath
Proclaim'd a Peace this Day with worthy Hector,
And thou insulting breaks forth in thy Fury,
And Tramples down all Laws of Honour, and
Of Arms—There's none of us all here, but must
Stand by with Shame, and not Assist thee.

Ach.
Curse on your Tame, and weak Apologies—
Bright Honour always beats her airy Wings
Above thy Reach, and ner'e yet fan'd thy Soul
Into a Royal Flame, dull Counsellor.—
Tell me of Laws, when Sacred Friendship here
Lies Bleeding so, and with it's gaping Wounds,
Beseeches more than Saints, and Hermits can
With Everlasting Prayers—Tell me of Laws—
Were he a Star, or did a Meteor shine,
I wou'd pull Hector from his Seat Divine,
To light my dear Patroclus's Funeral Torch—
I shall grow Tame—Fall on for my Revenge—
This Dismall sight when I look back to see,
What's Agamemnon, or the Gods to me?

They Fight, Achilles kills Troilus.
Troi.
Hold, hold, dear Hector—Let me lean upon you—
Retreat into the City whilst you may,
I dread the fatal Omens of this Day—
Let me Injoyn you This before I Die,
Beleive Cassandra now, for I am Slain,
Slain by Achilles hand—So lay me down.

[Dies.]
Polyx.
Ah me! Eternal Plagues fall on his Head
That kill'd thee.
[Polyx. mourns or'e his Body.]

Hect.
O let me go—Were there a Thousand Fates,
[Andro. holds Hector]
And more Cassandra's here to threaten Ruin,
I'de through 'em all, rush like a Clap of Thunder
Upon this furious Monster—Base Achilles,
Let me have cause for once, to say th'art Noble—
Lay then aside thy Troops of Myrmidons,
And fight with me alone—Say if thou darest?

Ach.
Thou shalt be pleas'd in this;
Stand still as Statues, and behold
This mighty Combat.

[To his Myrm.]
Andr.
Hector, it must not be; think on the Words
Of dying Troilus—If you will Adventure,
Achilles through my Breast shall come at thine,
Or you through me shall reach Achilles Heart;
For here I am resolv'd to stand betwixt.

Ach.
Away, away, with all the speed you can,
Whilst this safe Beauty holds thee in her Arms,
And my dear Murder'd Friend does give me leave.—
To Morrow I will call thee from the Walls,
As early as the Dawn; but look for nothing,
But horrid Death to part us where we come.

Hect.
And I more Early will anticipate,
And meet thee in the Field, where to thy Wish,
This deadly Feud betwixt us both shall End.

Ach.
Fly ye dull Minutes all; and wait upon that Hour.

Achilles turns to the Body of Patroclus.
Par.
Rise Sister from that killing Object.

Polyx.
I'le follow you; but these sad Eyes of mine
Shall never part from this, dear Woefull sight,
Till his devouring Tomb has swallow'd him.

[To some of the Trojan Guard.]
Paris.
Take up the Body, and wait on our Sister.

Exeunt. Hector, Paris, &c.
Manent Achilles, the dead Body of Patroclus, Polyxena, weeping or'e Troilus. Trojan Guards and Myrmidons.
Ach.
But thou not livest to thank thy dear Achilles.
[mean. Pat.]
For this mean Victim here, it is too small;
[meaning Troi.]
I'le have whole Heaps attend thy Funeral,
Ilium shall sink, it's shining Temples burn,
And Hills of Gold run melting to thy Urne—
I'le send a Scourge to lash the slow Revenge
Of Hector—Quickly take his bleeding Body,
And earlier then th'Assault begins to Morrow,
Drag ye his hated Carkass through the Ditch
[To his Myrm.]
That runs about the Town, before the Eyes
Of the Astonish'd Priam, and his Blood—
What, do you fear to touch him?

Polyx.
O Heav'ns! What fatal words are these I hear!
Ye shall not tear him from these warm Embraces—
Where's Hector, Paris? What, are they all gone!—
How! Drag his pretious Body, like a foul,
And loathsome Malefactor through the Streets!—
O Cruel, most Inhuman of thy Sex!—
A Man! A Devil sure thou art, or else,
How had'st thou liv'd in than unwholesome Lake,
And poys'nous Flood, where blackest Spirits bath?
Through all thy Veins runs filthy Acheron,
And thy base Blood contains the River Styx—
Cannot his horrid Murther serve thy Turn?—
But I'm to blame—You cannot be so Cruel;
[Runs to Achil.]
You are a God, have Lightning in your Eyes;
For when you Dart me with an angry Glance,
And send forth Thunder with your awful Voice,
A Storm flung from the rage of Jupiter
Is not so Dreadful.

[Kneels to him, and holds him.]
Ach.
Away; I have no heart to burn, nor Eyes
To melt—Dispatch I bid you.

[To the Myrm.]
Polyx.
Ah. look not so—My timorous Body shakes,
And my pale Joynts all tremble when you frown,
Like Leaves upon an Aspin's tender Twig,
Shook by the ruffling Winds—
See, I will shew you such a pretious Sight,
(runs to the Body.)
The gallant'st, bravest, dearest, loveliest Creature,
(I'me sure, when a'was living he was so.)

Ach.
Villains! Furies! shall I be plaid with all?

Polyx.
Look, look thou Darling of the divine Thetis.
Shall these soft Lips of his that I have kiss'd
A thousand times, the Gates of his sweet Mouth,
Be stopt with Dirt? shall these dear Hands be fast'ned
To Horses-Tails, that Iv'e so often ti'd
With bracelets of my Hair? sate by his side,
And pleas'd him with a hundred innocent,
And pretty Tales?—O, take my Body rather,
And throw it in the noisom-Place;
Deck you his Limbs with rich Embroideries
By recluse Virgins of Religion, made,
And crown his head with rare enamell'd Flowers;
Then burn the Arabian Phœnix in her Nest
With Trees of richest Gums, and Spices blest,
To mingle with his Urne, then bear him gently,
Softly as Leaves of Blossoms lay themselves,
And shut him in that dark, and loathsome Place
From whence he never will return.

Ach.
Put her away, and bear the Body forth—
She'as rais'd a Hell within my Blood.
Passion, like unborn Tempests pent within
The Concaves of the Earth, lie in my Breast, and roll,
And struggle with Infernal Tortures to get out—
Tear the lov'd Body from her Arms—Away with her;
Convey her hence to cursed Ilium—
Shut her at once, for ever from my sight;
Do, though I'me lost in an eternal Night:

Polyx.
You must not do't, he is too good to mean it—
(She holds the body fast. To the Myr. Runs to Ach.
See, see, look up, there's pity in his Face—
Speak brave Achilles, shall thy Slaves abuse
My Brothers pale, and strengthless Body thus?
O have a Care—What i'st you mean to do?
(Runs again to the Body and speaks to the Myrm.)
See, the great God begins to roar—Be gone
And I'le intreat his pardon for your Fault—
If he's a Deity, he needs must pity me.
For they will hear when the afflicted Pray.

Ach.
She is a Sorceress, a very Witch—
Hew off her hold, and drag the Body hence,
She has a Legion of arm'd Trojans in her Eyes.

They unloose her hands by force, and take away the Body, then she rises and speaks.
Polyx.
I wish I had; and that thy Breast contain'd
As many Souls, that I might wound 'em all—
But since I can't, and I have nothing left,
But a wrong'd Womans rage to Curse;
O maist thou fall less piti'd, and less Brave
Than Troilus, and may some Woman's Eyes
Revenge me on thy cursed Cruelties,
To love, and be deceiv'd, and in the height,
When thy proud Soul is giddy with delight,
And all thy Senses for Enjoyment wait,
Maist thou th'Effects of my just Curses feel,
To sink thy Soul that moment into Hell.
Exit Polyxena.

Ach.
She's gone, and left my Soul
Wrapp'd in eternal thought—What ails me, ha!
I am all Hell, all Torments, and all Fury—
O Jupiter! How is thy Son opprest!
Something like Fire, and Water in my breast,
In Thunder swells, and choaks me of my rest.
Go spiteful Beauty, thou shalt dearly boast;
To Morrow I'le send Hector with an hoast
To wait upon my dear Patroclus Ghost.

Exeunt Omnes.