 | The destruction of Troy |  |
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.
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.
40
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,
41
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.
42
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—
43
(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.
44
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.
| The destruction of Troy | |