University of Virginia Library

SCENA Prima.

SCENE opens, and discovers Agamemnon, Achilles, Ulysses, Menelaus, Diomedes, and Ajax.
Aga.
Speak, wise Ulysses, what you have to say,
And what pertains to this so early meeting
At your request,

Ulyss.
I hope you are not all ill satisfied,
Wise Grecians, with the fruits of my Advice,
That yet have not misled you with my Counsels,
And that I have a heart, that dares contend
To do a deed of Glory to you all,
With Thetis Son, though loud and bold as Thunder,
And furious as an untam'd Lybian Lion,
Yet all that strength, without Mercurial Art,
And wise, and solid, gentle means to Govern,
Is like a rash, and mighty Elephant,
That in the Fight throws his stout Rider off,
And headlong drives, and scatters all before him,
And knows no Ranks of Friends nor Adversaries.

Ach.
Y'had best be brief; or with your Rhetorick,
Try if you can drive Hector from the Walls,
Hector whom ev'ry Moment we expect,
Wak'd by the Blood of Troilus, soon as
The Sun, to visit us before the Camp;
Or try to quench within this Breast of mine,
The horrid blazing Fire of my Revenge
For my dear slaughter'd Friend Patroclus—Do so;
But thou art wise, and knowest approaching Danger,
And always studiest to secure thy Head
From any Action falling on it.

Ulyss.
Achilles let me tell you, you can boast,
And praise your empty Valour, like the Winds,
That roar, and make a dreadful Noise of nothing.—
You told me that you sav'd me once in fight—
Might I have leave, wise Princes, to recount,
But in a word, the things that I have done,
You'd say with Justice, that Iv'e sav'd his Head,
And yours, and all from Ruin; that I have done more,
And with my Conduct, and these hands, have slain
More Trojans in the Field, than he, back'd on
With all his fatal Myrmidons, has done.

Ach.
By Peleus Soul, and Thetis Godhead, now
'Tis false, base Ithycan Thou shelter'st
Thy self from my just Rage beneath the Wing
Of this respected Presence, else I'de strike—
Strike, to thy Soul, this Javelin through thy Heart.

Aga.
What means this unjust Rage amongst your selves?

Men.
Achilles is too blame.

Ulyss.
What am I? Tell me Agamemnon, am I
A Prince equal to any, or a Slave?
Why am I call'd to Council hear among you?
Bear witness all ye Gods how I am injur'd!
That now I cannot have the liberty
O'th' meanest Officer of all the Army,
To speak my mind to th'benefit of Greece.—
Though I dare any thing with proud Achilles;
I claim my Ithycans all from service
Of your Interest, and that I may be hence dismiss'd.

Ach.
Yes, to a kiss of's dear Penelope.

Aga.
I charge you lay aside your Rage Achilles,
And you Ulysses, wisely rule your temper.
We all intreat you to disclose your mind,
And he that interrupts you after this,
Is Enemy to all—Is this a time
For grudging Animosities to Raign
In private Breasts?

Ach.
I am rebuk'd—
I can't be sooth'd, or bridl'd to a temper;
But shall give way to this sententious Man.
Exit Achilles.

Ulyss.
I need not call to your remembrance,
That we are all of mortal Bodies fram'd,
Of flesh though 't has so many stroaks indur'd
Of Ten years Labour, yet can never weary
The hand of Time, but must at last give o're;
An Anvil half so beaten wou'd decay.
Our Ships are all grown Old, some sunk with Age,
And rooting grow into the lofty banks
Of Tenedos—All yet we have receiv'd
Has been but blows for blows, a Troilus
For brave Patroclus—Grant me leave to teach you,
The way of Stratagems you must begin,
And give the World a thankful Precedent
To cut all tedious Wars in sunder, and dry up
Prodigious Rivers of dear Blood, that may
Ensue—Thus 'tis—I have, by my Invention,
Thought of a mighty Engin to be fram'd,
Most like a Horse, whose wide and spacious Womb
May safely lodge a thousand Men at Arms
Inclos'd, not by the wisest, jealous Eye
To be perceiv'd—Send straight to Priam then
With offers of an everlasting Peace,
And that we'l hence return, contented with
No other Article, than Love.—This Horse,
As a rich Statue, we will then adorn,
And send it to be fix'd i'th' midst of Troy,
Or in the Temple of the Goddess Pallas,
As an Amends for the so fatal Injury
Done on her ravish'd Image the Palladium,
And a perpetual Monument of Peace
Between both sides; whence, in the dead of Night,
The bold advent'rous Champions lock'd within,
May issue forth, and let us into Troy.

Omn.
We all adore this great Advice.

A charge sounded, with shouts within.
Exit Diomedes.
Aga.
Heark, there's a Charge already sounded.

Reenter Achilles and Myrmidons.
Ach.
Awake, awake from sleepy, tardy Counsells,
And er'e you can propose to talk in State,
Let's first send Hector to his Den below,
This waking Dragon that so guards the City.

Reenter Diomedes in hast.
Dio.
Hector's arriv'd. and like a roaring Lion
Scatters whole herds of Grecians where a' comes,
And dreadful Slaughter raigns about his Sword.
I saw him seize upon the dead dragg'd Body
Of Troilus, and like a sudden Storm,
Fell on the Executioners pale heads,
And drove 'em all to covert, giving the mangl'd Coarse
Safe guarded, to the Custody of Women,
That mourn'd as if they'd wake him with their Cries,
And with their tears
Did wash away the Dirt that clos'd his Eyes.

Aga.
Now brave Achilles, and now dear Ulysses,
Disperse all inheroick thoughts of Anger,
And fight not now less bravely for your Country—
Let me behold you Friends before you part.

Ach.
See, my big heart does bend that scorns all malice.—
Thus I embrace, and beg you'd pardon me—
My Bosome, naturally rough, contains
(Embrace)
Such Fire as in the Flinty Quarry lies,
One sudden Spark it gives, and then it dies.

Ulyss.
It is a Gem I shall esteem for ever.

Aga.
This is a happy Omen—I'le to Horse,
Whilst you repair each to his gallant Charge.
Exit Agamemnon. Guards stay.

Ach.
Come Diomedes, thou shalt follow me—
Ulysses, Menelaus, and you Ajax,
Stay near this place, and guard the Gen'rals Tent.
Thou great Alcides by my Mother known,
By thy twelve Labours now protect thy Son—
Come near my Myrmidons, your Rage display,
Brush like the Winds, and sweep your Masters way;
Two hundred of your Brothers loss regain,
By the great Hector in one Battel slain,
Fond Troilus, this is a short reprieve;
I'le fetch thee back, wert thou again alive,
And though the Furies fort he Trojans fight,
All save not Hector from thy fate this Night.

Exeunt Achilles, Diomedes, and Myrmidons.
Men.
Brave Soul! Whilst he's thus double arm'd,
With Hector's hate, Patroclus love inspir'd,
He will do wonders past the reach of Fame.

Ulyss.
Wo be to us, or to the Trojans,
If Hector, and Achilles chance to meet;
Like two huge clashing Tempests in the Heavn's,
They'l break,
And fall in Thunder on each others head—
These are the Trojan shouts that fill the Sky.

(shouts within.)
Men.
I fear it is a sign of Victory.

Ajax.
Let us advance, and stay not here to dy.

As they are going off enter to them Paris, and Soldiers.
Par.
Trojans rejoyce, the Grecian Courage fails;
Whilst Hector, like a deadly Ocean pours
And bears before him all that are his Foes,
I, like a Stream that from his Torrent runs,
Have all his noble Courage, though not strength—
Ulysses here, and Menelaus!—I'm glad I've met thee;
Cou'd I kill thee, my Fortune were Sublime,
And I wou'd ravish
Thy Helen with the News the second time.

Men.
Paris, protect thy own Life first.

They fight. The Grecians beat off the Trojans. Enter Hector, and Guards, and rescue them.
Hect.
What, Paris here opprest with odds!—Ulysses!
Thou art the only Man next proud Achilles,
That I'de be glad to kill—I thank thee Jupiter—
Remember that thou stol'st the great Palladium—
Have at thee, my fine subtil Mercury,
Nor shalt thou scape from my impartial Vengeance,
Unless th'adst wings, and wert as swift as he.

They fight, the Trojans beat off the Grecians. Enter Achilles and his Myrmidons.
Ach.
There, guard him safe till my return—
[speaking to some within.]
Against the Women shut your Eyes, and Ears,
Be deaf to their loud Cries, and blind to all their Tears.—
Ha! Hector here!—
This is the happiest hour of all my Life,
That shall for ever end our great Debate—
Hold gallant Hector, hold thy Godlike Arm—
Let not the Eagle bait a simple Fly—
Behold, look back, here stands Achilles by.

(Hector returns.)
Hect.
Achilles!—
Did I behold my lov'd Andromache
Surpris'd, and almost murder'd by the hands
Of some foul Ravisher, and She cri'd loudly
To all the Gods for her deliverance,
Her dying Voice cou'd not provoke me more
To come like Lightning to her dear Revenge.
Wert thou, again most dreadfully return'd
From Hell anointed, and hot reaking from
The River Stix, or boiling Acheron,
And stood'st on th'other side; in spight of fear,
I'de swim the Brimstone-Lake to meet thee there.

Ach.
We'are both agreed, and I love thee as well—
O powerful Charms of my revengeful Hate!
Love is not near so great, nor half so sweet.
He that views Heav'n beneath his Mistress brow,
Feels not the Joy that does possess me now.
Hector—
How dreadful to the World art thou and I!
Who er'e yet saw two Rival Suns ith' Sky,
But dreaded some prodigeous change was nigh?
Let the whole World beware this Storm at hand;
Troy on thy Fate, and Greece on mine does stand.

Hect.
Old Dardanus, and Ilus now look down,
And cast your Eyes from Joves Imperial Throne;
Help me, by all your Trojan Kindred slain,
To catch the Life of this detested Man.—
Prepare, for with such speed I'le reach thy Heart,
As a bent Bow sends forth a flying Dart.

Ach.
Invoak'st thou little Deities! No, Jove,
With all the under Gods, and petty Drove,
Must now behold, and sit to judge the Fight,
Whilst fearful Planets sicken at the sight.
No trivial slaughter shall abroad be seen,
Imperial Death calls all his Forces in
To set with horrour forth this dreadful Scene.

Hect.
Achilles yes, how can the Gods but choose
For thy base Rage on mangl'd Troilus,
When thou didst tear his slaughter'd Head away
From the soft Breast of sad Polyxena,
And in a brutish Valour thence did trail
His gallant Limbs ti'd to thy Horses-tail.

Ach.
Know then to burst
Thy heart yet more with Vengeance and with Grief,
His Body's torn again from thy Relief,
And the same hands, when thou art Dead, shall come,
And fetch thee to my dear Patroclus Tomb,
Dragging thee there in sad procession round,
Whilst his pale Ghost with thy Revenge is crown'd.

Hect.
And I'le not be ungrateful:—
For when I've kill'd thee, I'le exalt thee high,
Upon some Pinacle that hits the Sky,
Where, all that fear'd this Grecian Deity,
Shall flock together, and make sport with thee,
Whilst thou dost proudly sit, and curse, in State,
The Gods, thy Friends, the Authors of thy Fate.

Ach.
Hector come on; I can no longer hold—
This thunder, thou hast ramm'd, must break upon thee.
Keep off—First let us try whose Fate it is,
[To his Greeks.]
Alone to Conquer: Say Hector, shal't be so?

Hect.
Agreed. Stand by, and till that bloody Moment,
Stir not a step to interpose.

[To his Trojans.]
They fight and Hector bleeds. They pause.
Ach.
Thou bleed'st, each pretious Drop that I behold
Is more than worth an Armie's Victory,
Richer than all the Trojan blood that stains
Tenedos Isle or bright Scamanders Plains.

Hect.
Sure Vulcan's stroaks upon my Arms I feel,
Harder, than if his Anvil were my Sheild—
Eternal darkness shroud thy envious Light thou Sun,
Withdraw thy Beams from the loath'd Hector's sight,
And let no Eyes be witness of my shame,
To see me blush all blood, my Cheeks all flame.—
Assist me Gods—Is there no way to meet
Thy curst-bound Soul in its inchanted Seat?

They fight again. Hector falls.
Ach.
So falls the Body of some mighty Oak,
By the rough Winds of many a Tempest shook,
Tears up the Earth with a prodigious Sound,
And strikes his boughy Elbows in the Ground.

Hect.
Be quick my Soul, and fly with all the speed
Thou canst, and leave me, as if I ne're had been,
Without the Torture of a dying thought—
The Gods are angry—Boast Achilles, boast
Thou hast slain Hector, and that Troy is lost.

[Dies]
Ach.
Die then, Supporter of thy Countrie's Fame,
And ever after live Achilles name.—
Drag hence his Body to the fatal Tomb,
And, when my poor Patroclus Ghost is pleas'd,
Drag him with Troilus to the Gates of Troy,
And drown their woful Cries with Shouts of Joy;
The news to all your fellow Soldiers bear,
Hector is Dead, the Terrour of the War.

Reenter to him Diomedes.
Diom.
Where is Achilles? that he shuns the way
To glory which still crowns this fatal Day;
Brave Ajax, and Ulysses have done wonders.
The General Agamemnon, twice unhors'd,
Has mounted once again; with his own hand
He strook the Valiant Deiphobus down,
And slew King Priam's hopeful youngest Son;
Æneas at the dreadful sight, retreated,
And the fierce Courage of his Troops grew slack;
Paris yet only does maintain the Fight,
But all will fly before Achilles sight.—
Come Peleus mighty Son—

Ach.
Yes Diomedes—
See, see where lies the Valiant Hector dead.

Diom.
Then happy Greece; for the whole War is done
With this one Blow by great Alcides Son.
Here sits the Glory of uncertain State,
And hapless Valour slain by envious Fate.—
Let it not take Achilles from thy Praise,
To say he was the bravest Man that ever was.

Ach.
Away, till I am glutted with the News,
[To his Soldiers]
That round the Camp ye'ave trail'd his hated Limbs,
And harrow'd or'e the rugged Flints his Bones.

Dio.
Why means the brave Achilles so to do?
Hector wou'd ne're have done the like to you.
Do not on him your fatal Vengeance try,
Who living was so brave an Enemy;
His Death rewards your more than ten years pain.
Stand here, it shall with Glory to all Worlds remain,
That thou Achilles hast brave Hector slain.

Ach.
Talk not of pity in my Breast to him
That has Patroclus kill'd—Obey me streight.

[Soldiers carry off Hector's Body.]
Dio.
If nothing can your cruel Rage oppose,
Think on the woful State of Troilus.
Coming this way, I met the sad Remains
Hal'd by the wild, and dreadful Executioners,
Assisted by thy Slaves, who acted o're thy Vengeance
With as much horrour as thou didst Command,
Whilst the most bright of all the Trojan Dames,
The Virgin-Daughter of Queen Hecuba,
Follow'd the mangl'd Coarse with lamentable Cries,
In a distracted Meen—
Her golden Hair dishevel'd round her wast,
As bright, as if the Sun had her embrac'd,
With an exalted Dagger in her hand,
She threatn'd off the Guards, and made 'em stand;
Thy horrid Myrmidons stood all abash'd,
And her fierce Beauty through their Arms did feel,
That slighted, with it's force, the pointed Steel.
There never was so sad a Sight to move
'Twixt all the force of Cruelty, and Love—
See, what no Tongue has Courage to unfold,
Nor no Eyes, but Achilles, to behold.