William Shakespeare (1564–1616). The Oxford Shakespeare. 1914.
Act V. Scene V.Troilus and Cressida
Dio.Go, go, my servant, take thou Troilus’ horse;
Present the fair steed to my Lady Cressid:
Fellow, commend my service to her beauty:
Tell her I have chastis’d the amorous Trojan,
And am her knight by proof.
Serv.I go, my lord.[Exit.
Agam.Renew, renew! The fierce Polydamas
Hath beat down Menon; bastard Margarelon
Hath Doreus prisoner,
And stands colossus-wise, waving his beam,
Upon the pashed corses of the kings
Epistrophus and Cedius; Polixenes is slain;
Amphimachus, and Thoas, deadly hurt;
Patroclus ta’en, or slain; and Palamedes
Sore hurt and bruis’d; the dreadful Sagittary
Appals our numbers: haste we, Diomed,
To reinforcement, or we perish all.
Nest.Go, bear Patroclus’ body to Achilles;
And bid the snail-pac’d Ajax arm for shame.
There is a thousand Hectors in the field:
Now here he fights on Galathe his horse,
And there lacks work; anon he’s there afoot,
And there they fly or die, like scaled sculls
Before the belching whale; then is he yonder,
And there the strawy Greeks, ripe for his edge,
Fall down before him, like the mower’s swath:
Here, there, and everywhere, he leaves and takes,
Dexterity so obeying appetite
That what he will he does; and does so much
That proof is called impossibility.
Ulyss.O! courage, courage, princes; great Achilles
Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance:
Patroclus’ wounds have rous’d his drowsy blood,
Together with his mangled Myrmidons,
That noseless, handless, hack’d and chipp’d, come to him,
Crying on Hector. Ajax hath lost a friend,
And foams at mouth, and he is arm’d and at it,
Roaring for Troilus, who hath done to-day
Mad and fantastic execution,
Engaging and redeeming of himself
With such a careless force and forceless care
As if that luck, in very spite of cunning,
Bade him win all.
Ajax.Troilus! thou coward Troilus![Exit.
Dio.Ay, there, there.
Nest.So, so, we draw together.
Achil.Where is this Hector?
Come, come, thou boy-queller, show thy face;
Know what it is to meet Achilles angry:
Hector! where’s Hector? I will none but Hector.[Exeunt.