THE DESTRUCTION OF TROY, A TRAGEDY, Acted at His Royal Highness THE DUKE's Theatre.  
Written by JOHN BANKS.  

Fortunam Priami cantabo & Nobile Bellum.  
Quid dignum tanto feret hic Promissor hiatu?   
Hor. de Art Poet.  
Licenced january 29. 1678/ 9  
ROGER L'ESTRANGE.  
London, Printed by A. G. and I. P. and are to be Sold by Charles Blount, at the Black-Raven in the Strand, near the Savoy. 1679.   

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LADY KATHERINE ROOS.  
MADAM,  
SUch always has been the jurisdiction, and so Supreme and Excellent the Authority of the Fair, Noble, and Virtuous, that Poets seem to be created for no other Purpose, but as anointed, to be the Voice of their Oracles, and to attend, and repeat 'em with as much Reverence as Priests do at the Altars of the Divinities they worship; to teach Mankind how to honour them when Living; and when Dead, to enlarge, and transmit their Noble Actions to Posterity: And whilst the World lasts, this will be the most spacious and delightful. Theme, and will give the loftiest, and divinest Grace to Poetry; this made Homer sing, he that was blind, had even that Inspiration; and BEAUTY from the Beginning has never failed to have more Adorers than the Gods: Nay it has still had such Power, that it has been the Author of as strange Miracles; It has oft times made the Miser a Prodigal; the Old, Young; and the Coward, Valiant: what has it not done when joined with VIRTUE? And what are You not able to inspire, in whom both excel; that Your Poet could never be said to run on too lavish in Your Encomium? For Your Fame would put a Blush upon all (as too mean) that can be said of You; and not accuse me of Flattery, if I could describe You with as much Art as that rare Painter, who pictured his Venus with all the Smiles, and Graces of Womankind put together. How justly then have I heard the World admire at the infinite Happiness of Your LORD— But (pardon me, Madam) this is a Stream would glide me insensibly away, and if I do not check myself, I shall like inspired Prophets, say Wonders not to be believed, in such a Style as our best Poets have failed in. Therefore as one that is more a Plain Dealer than a Courtier, I will leave myself severely to be censured by all that know You, for not revealing Your Ladyship's Character as I ought, rather than put angry Blushes on your Cheeks by an unexpected Assault of so many rude Phrases: for Virtue so delicate, and tender as Yours, is sooner touched, and offended at the hearing of its just Praises, than at the Calumny of the Envious, and Detacters; and I protest to Your Ladyship, I had rather owe my Bread to Charity, then be thought to earn it at so vile a Rate; only grant me leave to Sail a little into the Relation of the justness, and Gratitude of Your Ladyship's Fortune. 'Tis known that You are descended from the most Noble House of the NOELS, and joined to that Incomparable, and Princely Family of the MANORS; but let me say, by such a Miracle, that never Day appeared more beneficial to the benighted Traveller, than you o'er its clouded Mansion, nor did the Rainbow (the Token of the Almighty in the Heavens, after the general Deluge by the Flood) to Noah's poor remaining Progeny show itself more welcome, and propitious, than Your Ladyship to the despairing and almost distracted Family of the RUTLAND'S, which after an unfortunate Marriage, when it had long wandered upon the Face of barren Waters, You were at last discov'rd as a blessed, and fruitful Land to rest its weary Ark upon, and it may for ever hereafter call. You its Good Angel that in its Flight from Heaven first pitched upon the lofty, and most graceful Seat of Belvoire, whose Antiquity (which I hope may ever last) will pay you more Respect, and Adoration as to its Preserver, than it has done to its Founder: For by Your means, and your Illustrious Offspring, England shall never want a Branch that shall spread itself from so Noble an Original as Your kind LORD, nor be the least of its Glories that it can boast thereof. How much is to be admired the Wisdom of the Divine Power which made so Excellent a Choice as Your Ladyship, of whom it shall be said, that Atlas has not supported the heavens' with more Fame than Your Ladyship the tottering Greatness of Belvoire: And the History of Heroic Women shall henceforth own you to be the Greatest, and Noblest Pattern of 'em all— Pardon me, Madam, I begin to fall into a Relapse. I would not give the World an Occasion to suspect that what I have said is but the Prelude of a Request I intent to beg of your Ladyship, which is, that you would vouchsafe to accept of this poor Poem, and be pleased to let me set your Name in the Front of it, as Princes put their Arms over the Doors of Places they would have Reverenced, and Esteemed. I will not then fear the Wise Critics, nor the conceited Fops that are as curious in passing their Censures on a young Poet, as your staunched Beauties are to one that is newly cried up in the Town; yet I doubt not but what You please to condescend to own, they will allow of. I am the rather emboldened to petition this of Your Ladyship, because You are an Incourager of POETRY, and I have been informed that not long since in the Person of the famous Earl of Rutland it has met with the most considerable Patron that ever was; and all know that your gallant Father, the present Viscount Cambden, is the best, and greatest Protector of Wit, and Learning in this Age. How can I fail then, in my Address to Your Ladyship, of either an Acknowledgement beyond my Desert, or at least a Pardon for my Faults, which I humbly implore you would not deny, and is the greatest Favour that can be hoped by, MADAM,  
Your Ladyship's most Humble, Faithful, and Devoted Servant JOHN BANKS.   

PROLOGUE.  

SInce the Sun's kindly Beams have left us now,  
And in the other World make all things grow;  
Like Swallows to warm Seasons, we draw near,  
And hope to find a fruitful Summer here—  
May still our Orb so bright, and gay appear,  
And every Day adorn our Theatre—  
Wev'e nothing more to welcome you to Night,  
Than a plain, undressed Play, a homely Sight,  
No Show to take your Eyes, that are more kind,  
And easier pleased than is the dainty mind.  
Language with you's esteemed upon the Stage,  
Like some affected Gallants of this Age;  
Not for their Sense, but for their Equipage.—  
No, the rich Banquet is to come, a Treat  
Cooked by your Chat'lin and La'Froon of Wit.  
This is a Christmas Tale has oft been told  
Over a Fire by Nurse, and Grandam old,  
Where they would Paris the wild Youngster blame,  
For stealing Helen, that inconstant Dame.  
Yet we're in hopes you will be kind to hear  
The Lives of those whose Successors you are:  
For when Troy fell, its Remnant here did plant,  
And built this Place, and called it Troy-novant:  
But as those Venturers were forced to slay  
An Host of barbarous Picts that stopped their Way,  
First we're to withstand you Natives of the Bays,  
Who hate all new Invaders with new Plays,  
And therefore right, or wrong, damn whom you please.  
Then, that we may be stronger, we submit  
To all you London Trojans of the Pit,  
And all the merry Greeks, that seldom think,  
But only dive into good Wine, and Drink;  
Such may we often see, we'll soon defeat  
These Race of Picts that plague the Land of Wit..    

Persons Represented. By Priamus, King of Troy. Mr. Sandford. Hector, Priamus Sons. Mr. Harris. Paris, Priamus Sons. Mr. Crosby. Troilus, Priamus Sons. Mr. I. Williams. Agamemnon, General of the Grecians. Mr. Medbourn. Achilles, a great Champion of Greece. Mr. Betterton. Ulysses, a wise Councillor, and Captain. Mr. Smith. Diomedes, a Valiant Confederate. Mr. Gillow. Patroclus, the beloved Friend of Achilles. Mr. Bowman. Menelaus, Husband to Helena. Mr. Norris. Ajax, a Stout Champion. Mr. Underhill. Helena. Mrs. Price. Andromache, the faithful Wife of Hector. Mrs. Betterton. Polyxena, Priam's Daughter beloved by Achilles, Mrs Barry. Cassandra, her Sister that prophesied the Destruction of Troy. Mrs. Lee. Captains, Soldiers, Trojans, Priests, Guards.   
Scene Troy, And before the Walls.   

THE DESTRUCTION OF TROY.  

ACTUS PRIMUS, SCENA PRIMA.  The Curtain being drawn up, discovers Agamemnon, Achilles, Menelaus, Ulysses, Patroclus, Diomedes, and Ajax, in Council. Aga. 
WIse, Noble, Valiant Grecian Princes, all  
Derived from jove, Mars, Hercules, Apollo,  
The first of Hero's, second Race of Gods,  
That during all this famous Ten Years Siege  
Have Thousands of your Mortal Slaves outlived,  
And like your Fathers, as Immortal stood.  
Death in the Fight still cuts the Vulgar off,  
Who fall like Grass before the sharpest Scyth,  
Whilst, you like Rocks, have felt, and turned its Edge;  
That we may plainly see, all are not born  
Marked out by Heaven, as are your Mighty Selves;  
All are not blessed to be the brave Achilles,  
Nor wise Ulysses, valiant Diomedes;  
Nor are there any so inspired with Wrong  
As Menelaus: Therefore 'tis high time  
Some swift Decree should from your Judgements pass,  
To put a speedy End to this long War;  
Or else, contented with the Fame we 've won,  
Let's all agree, straight to break up the Siege,  
And once more visit our loved Wives and Countries.  
We 've done already all that Men could do;  
If we stay longer, Fate will soon prevent us,  
And sink our Hero's with the Weight of Years:  
Old Time will laugh to see us like himself;  
Age will perform what War could not have done—  
What says the Heaven born Thetis mighty Son?  [Achilles rises up and speaks.] Ach. 
Well spoken has the Royal Agamemnon!  
This Breast of mine, that was not made for words,  
Shall utter too its plain and honest meaning—  
How long shall we in vain attempt this City?  
A Town, for aught we know, built by the Gods,  
And by the God's Immortal Aid defended;  
Begirt with many huge and massy Walls,  
Stronger than Stone hewed from their growing Caverns,  
More hard and beautiful than Marble fetched  
From the deep Bosom of the shining Quarry.  
Still as we followed any fierce Assault,  
Still we were more and more repulsed, and often  
'Slid from the tops of her bright Magic towers,  
Leaving no more Impression with our Blood,  
Than restless Waves that dash against the Rocks,  
And pitiless drop into the Sea again:  
Or, if by any chance, a Breach we made,  
That Blood hath only served our Enemies,  
To heal, and to cement their Walls again.—  
Of all that know Achilles, none can say,  
That thought of danger makes him speak these words.  
By Divine Thetis, sitting next to jove,  
Who, when I was an Infant, held me by the heel,  
Bathed my young soft and tender Limbs all o'er,  
And plunged me in the Lake of Acheron,  
And me Immortal made,— By her I swear,  
There's none amongst you all dares think I fear—  
Did not the Gods, at her Request, command  
Old skilful Vulcan to beat out this Armour,  
By Cyclops forged upon the Gods own Anvil,  
And framed o'th' same impenetrable stuff,  
That the bright Chariot of the Sun is made of,  
And Jupiter's almighty Thunderbolts?  
Thus guarded, I'm above the reach of Fate,  
And were I sure this War would last yet Ten  
Years longer, I would foremost lead you on,  
Secure, and free from the pale hand of Death:  
Nay, would myself depopulate this Town,  
Were I but sure only to fight with Men;  
But to encounter Mountains made of Stone,  
That like a Guard defend the mighty City,  
As if it were immured and fortified  
Against the Gods themselves. Such Walls by Mercury framed,  
With subtle folding Arms, its Waste embracing  
seven times, each one defended by the other,  
And of so intricate an Art, that none,  
But he that has the Skill of Dedalus,  
With his Infernal Clew of Thread, can enter.—  [Patroclus rises and speaks.] Patr. 
And what have we done all this for? Wherefore?  
Only to vindicate a private Quarrel?  
For one Man's Interest to sacrifice  
The best and sweetest Strength of all our Days.  
And what is Menelaus Wrong, though much,  
To countervail so many thousand Lives  
That it has cost? And in its fatal Cause  
Enveloped Asia in eternal Ruin:  
Nay, made the World distracted with itself,  
Made you, that were like Gods before, less happy  
Than your base Slaves at home, who now enjoy  
Their Master's Vineyards, press the wanton Grapes,  
And drink the Fruits of what you toiled for long,  
Smile on your Wives, and tempt your Daughter's Loves,  
In private act those Wrongs you would revenge  
On Troy for the long ravished Helena.  
Whilst you, ingrateful for the Gifts of Heaven,  
Like Exiles live, with Beards and Hair o'ergrown,  
That to stay longer for your great Success,  
And wait Troy's mighty and uncertain Ruin,  
You would bring pale and Ghost-like Body's home,  
(At your return, in stead of heavenly Forms)  
To fright your Children, and dismay your Wives.—  
Think then of this, wise Princes, and think also,  
Troy has a Prophecy secures its Fate,  
That whilst the great Palladium she keeps safe,  
The Gods will all defend it; and wise Pallas,  
The Owner of that strange and awful Image,  
Has, by her sacred Proxy dropped from Heaven,  
Espoused her dear beloved Troy to her.  Aga. 
Now, Brother Menelaus, speak your Censure.  Men. 
'Tis not for me, wise Princes, to be seen  
To contradict what you've been pleased to say:  
To plead my own Cause were an arrogance,  
And a presumption high in Menelaus;  
I who have been the sad Implorer of this War;  
How bad, how unsuccessful it has proved,  
Ye all have known, yet all are satisfied  
Heaven found out no Injustice in the Cause.  
At the first Motion of my Wrongs, ye all were pleased  
Friendly t'espouse my Quarrel as your own,  
And took the Rape of Helena so near you,  
As if you all had suffered, all had shared  
In my unhappy Fate, and all had Wives,  
And chaste young Daughters torn from your Thresholds,  
And by their lustful Victors dragged to Troy.  
If you repent it now, I wish the Gods,  
To expiate the Shame of ravished Greece,  
And wash the Stain away, had done it only  
With Menelaus, Blood— I'll say no more,  
But will submit in all things to the Votes  
Of this Great Council.  [Ulysses rises, and speaks.] Ulyss. 
With low submission, great and valiant Hero's,  
Let me presume to show my weak Defence  
Against the wise, inestimable Voice  
Of this most noble, and illustrious Council,  
With all respect to Agamemnon's place,  
And due regard to the most brave Achilles,  
Whom we must justly own, always to be  
The great and mighty Genius of the War.—  
Let's search the rise of this vainglorious Troy;  
We know from whence it came, from Dardanus,  
Jove's Son, and first it did receive its Name  
From him, and then it pleased the Gods she lost  
That Title, and Ilium was from Ilus called,  
Then Troy from Troas, Ilus Son, of no  
Immortal Honour she can boast herself;  
Twice has she lost her Name, and after this,  
If you'll believe her cheating Prophecies,  
It shall for ever bear the Name of Troy,  
Which is, that it shall last to her Destruction,  
Which the just Gods till now have stayed to do  
By Agamemnon, and Divine Achilles.—  
What though the Walls run seven times round the Town,  
And with such awful strength, and beauty strike you,  
Yet were they built by Men, and when at last  
Their Men decay, and are too weak, or few  
To hold, and to maintain 'em, they'll soon prove  
Your Steps to take the Town the nearest way.—  
Yes Valiant Hero's, do, and have it said,  
That such wise, noble Princes, as you are,  
Did undertake a War, for Virtue, Property,  
For Credit, Fame, and not to be  
Accounted ridiculous, and patient Asses;  
That you, I say, should after ten years fighting  
Like valiant Men, disheartened now at last,  
Talk of retreating home (just Gods forbid!)  
And forfeit your renown with all the World.  
Well might ye say your Wives, and Children will  
Not know you; if they did, I'm sure they would not  
But hate you, hate you for the worst of Cowards,  
And rather would embrace your Slaves than you.—  
I dare be plain, when all of you have proved  
The things that I have done with a consult applause.  
Who brought Achilles to your Aid? Was it  
Not I? I who reclaimed him from the Distaff,  
When Thetis by fond superstition was  
Forewarned, that if her Son went forth to Troy,  
He should be killed, him therefore she did cloth  
In soft array, and his young Warlike Body  
Bedecked with womens' Petticoats, and Bracelets,  
Sending him so attired to Lycomedes Daughters,  
Which I found out by my successful pains,  
And hither, hither, to the joy of all  
Brought this famed Hero to obey the Oracle,  
That said, We ne'er should conquer Troy without him;  
And who discovered Palamedes Treason,  
But myself only? Which I'll urge no more,  
And hope you need not many words t'inspire you  
With the bold sense of your delighted honours.—  Ajax and Diomedes are to speak. Ajax. 
By the Divinity that guards this mighty presence,  
I swear Ulysses has said well, so well,  
That I who'd rather do than speak my mind,  
Am proud to be the first of his opinion.  
Ajax has vowed ne'er to return to Greece,  
Till Troy, and her great Champion Hector are  
No more, or else with Age, or mortal Wounds  
Lie Buried by the Walls— With such a zeal,  
I did promote our quarrel at the first.  
Had I been less than Ajax, I had gone  
Proud of the meanest Service of the War,  
Under the standard of so just a cause,  
Where the immortal credit of all Greece  
Is so concerned— Now talk you of retreating!  
When you've few Enemies, or none to fear,  
And all their great confederates are cut off?  
Have they not long since given over rallying,  
And fighting in pitched Battles? very rarely  
Issue beyond their Gates to make a Skirmish,  
And when they do, are we not still the stronger?  
Have we not Famine fights for us within,  
And all the World to range, and at command  
Without? and they at best but their own Prisoners?  
Have we not hunted with success, and drove  
The tired Beasts for refuge to their Dens?  
Where let 'em roar, and lash themselves, till they are weary:  
For all the damage they can do us now,  
Is to despair, and with their last revenge,  
Reward us with their sudden ruin.—  
Is not their dear Palladium now, and Hector  
All their poor hopes defence?— Palladium,  
Whose Priests are all grown hoarse, and weary,  
With uttering vain, and fruitless Prophecies;  
And Hector once the Man cried up of all  
The World, What Captain is there here among you,  
That would refuse to fight him after Ajax?  
I grappled with this Monster, found him to his shame  
A mere weak Man, and boldly in the sight  
Of both the Armies, gave him such a blow,  
As made him stagger, and forsake the Field.  Dio. 
The Gods inspire us, most Heroic Princes,  
With better hopes of all our aged pains,  
Then to desert the War, and think that Heaven  
Has e'er designed us less than our revenge,  
For all our wrongs, and Iphygenia's Blood,  
When in a Storm to save our beaten Vessels  
From Shipwreck, nothing would appease their wrath,  
No Sacrifice less costly would be admitted,  
That we should offer for the safety of the Fleet,  
And be the Victim for the Ghost of Troy,  
Than Agamemnon's dear, and only Daughter.—  
What though the time be long that we have stayed?  
Yet know, the Gods, when they would make Examples  
O' th' worst of Crimes, they punish by degrees.  
What had it been for Troy to have at first  
Been taken or destroyed, a punishment  
For vulgar Crimes? when now to be o'ercome  
Is just, and like the Gods our great Protectors,  
Who made our Enemies to linger long,  
And in suspense, and Tortures to endure  
The Ten Years Miseries of War.— 'Tis not  
In Menelaus cause alone we fight,  
That once espoused, 'tis every ones become:  
They who intent to act a gallant thing,  
When once begun, 'tis virtue to go through it.  
Now to desist, were to record our Names  
With Infamy to everlasting Ages;  
But when we've triumphed o'er the Fate of Troy,  
And punished this Deflow'rer of our Name,  
Grateful Posterity will then adore us;  
And when we are descended to our Graves,  
We shall rest there both happy and admired,  
And emulating us, succeeding times  
Will strive to make our Urns immortal Fabrics,  
And bravest Princes take their rules from us,  
And by our actions; make illustrious Patterns  
To guide the World with: but I'll make an end,  
And must refer myself to your wise Censures.  Aga. 
It is enough— O spare the dear debate:  
Who can withstand such Reasons so Divine?  
We were all dull, all mortal till this time.  
Thou art condemned o Troy,—  
And all thy Power, and Greatness is decreed  
To Ruin, at the Bar of this great Council.  
There only rests Achilles, your free Vote,  
Then like a Prophet from the sacred Altar  
Of this oraculous Table, inspired by you,  
I shall with joy pronounce in your behalfs  
A War again, and to adorn your Heads,  
Crowns, and immortal Wreaths of Victory.  Ach. 
Ye'ave all said well, I cannot contradict;  
You know I hate to talk, but yet, however  
Y'ave worked upon the the freedom of my Nature—  
Let it be then, as ye have all persuaded,  
A War for ever, an Eternal War;  
Achilles and Patroclus ne'er shall be  
Upbraided singular— I am your Slave,  
Your Messenger of Wings, or any thing  
You'll put upon me— Since we are resolved,  
Why talk we? why do we not straight go out,  
Rushing on all together; cry Revenge  
For ravished Chastity, and bear the Fate  
Of Greece high o'er the proudest Towers of Troy,  
And trample down her steep elab'rate Walls  
To dust, and turn her guilded Spires to Atoms,  
Whose scattered multitudes shall choke the Sun——  
I'll lead you to the panting Helena,  
In Paris Arms hugged, as a Lion does his Prey;  
Where with this hand I'll strike the Villain Dead,  
And with the other give her back to Menelaus—  
Quick— Let us debate no longer.  Omnes. 
Divine Achilles lead us on.  [They all rise from their Seats] Aga. 
Spoke like yourselves, most high, inspired confederates!  
Your voices are the Gods— Let me embrace  
You all, all in these proud, and happy Arms,  
The Great, the Wise, the Mighty, and the Valiant—  
Our Souls have room enough; let us live all  
In one, as all your Faiths, and Memories  
Shall to Eternity take up my Breast.  Omnes. 
We all are Agamemnon's.  Aga. 
I am the least, th' unworthy'st Man amongst you.  
You brave Achilles, are our Hercules,  
The Pillar and the Structure of our Fate;  
You wise Ulysses, are our great Apollo;  
Patroclus the brave inciting Music,  
That calls us on to Fight, beyond the Sound  
Of Trumpets; Menelaus, is the Standard;  
And Telamonius, and Diomedes, are  
The lightning, and the Thunder of the War.  Ulyss. 
Draw every Man his Sword, lest any more  
Such Scruples should infect our Resolutions.  [They all draw their Swords.] 
Let's take an Oath, by all the Gods, our Lives,  
Our Faith, Religion, and our Honours,  
ne'er to forsake these cursed Walls of Troy,  
Till we have buried them deep in the Earth,  
As they are now above the Face of it.  Ach. 
And dragged the beaten Carcase of their Hector  
Through every street that late proclaimed his praise,  
Whilst Matrons, and pale Virgins, howl from tops of houses,  
To see their Pride and Glory turned their Shame.  Omnes. 
Resolved.  Aga. 
By all the Gods I swear.  Ach. 
By Thetis I.  Ulyss. 
By jupiter I vow, and by my Honour.  Patr. 
I by Achilles.  Men. 
I vow by Iun●, and by sweet Revenge.  Ajax. 
By all th' Immortal Souls of Hero's I.  Dio. 
By Mars I swear, or in the Act to die.  Aga. 
Let us prepare to morrow for th' Assault.  
Steer all our Galleys to the Fort of jove,  
And bring our Armies to the Dardan Tower,  
That as our Seamen, from their Ships, and Boats,  
Attempt them there, so to divide their Power,  
We'll storm like Gods their mighty Founder's Glory—  
Let's try our new invented warlike Engines,  
That, like huge Giams, over look the Town;  
The Man that can from thence first set his Foot  
Upon the Walls, to him shall be proclaimed  
The honour of the Day.  Ach. 
Give me the tallest of these moving Towers,  
Planted so near, to grapple with the Side  
Of this huge Monster— I will be the Man  
Shall leap from thence upon her golden Terrace,  
And bring you to her Guardian Pallas Temple,  
Where her so famed, and dreadful Image stands.  
I'll pull the Warlike Spear from out her Hand,  
And hurl the Grecian Terror to the Ground,  
That, at the dreadful noise, th' affrighted Hearts  
Of all her Citizens shall sink for ever,  
And the stuned Fate of her unwieldy Troy  
Shall stagger with the mighty Load, and be  
Too weak t' uphold her.  Patr. 
Godlike Achilles!  Omnes. 
We all will follow you.  Exeunt omnes, praeter Ulyss. & Diom. Ulyss. 
Stay Diomedes—  
King of Aeetolia; Fortune smiles upon us,  
To crown our wishes with a great Event.  
Now 'tis our Ingenuity, and Valour  
Shall make our Names, and Memories as great  
And Famous as Achilles in this War;  
Greece shall its Credit, Troy its Ruin owe,  
To this great Act that I have called you out  
To share the Glory of.  Dio. 
Bless me Ulysses with the News! my Soul  
Has Wings and takes its eager flight at Honour,  
Let it be ne'er so high, and ne'er so steep,  
And dangerous.  Ulyss. 
You know, I told you last of my design  
To work into the Mind of greedy Antenor;  
The Trojan Gold that sho'ud have bribed our Friendships,  
I've promised him, and Honours from the Grecians,  
If he would straight assist me with the means  
To get into my hands their famed Palladium.  
This day in private he has sent his Answer,  
A Cordial for the tired, and weary Spirits  
Of all our Captains; but ourselves only  
Will pour it down into their thirsty Throats.—  
It is, that through a private Vault this Night,  
We may arrive to th' Temple where it stands,  
When he has promised to disperse the Guards,  
And leave none but her Priests for her Defence.  Dio. 
Y'ave filled my Soul with Joy, and Admiration.  Ulyss. 
Mark further what I've done, with speed I went,  
Taking some trusty Soldiers of my Legions,  
To dig to th' bottom of this reverent Mine.  
They had not pierced a Fathom in the Ground,  
ere they discovered Stones of Antique Forms,  
Which did not seem to be of Nature's framing,  
But artificially were laid with hands.  
With joyful curiosity I saw  
Them dig to th' bottom of this ancient Structure;  
Which with some difficulty done, we found  
The place to be a long and slender Vault,  
Which near from thence had end; the other part  
Did run directly under the Town Walls.  
I have commanded  
My Men to keep it secret from their Fellows;  
And bid 'em further search the utmost progress  
Of this strange passage under ground.  Enter to them Two Soldiers. 1. Sold. 
We bring you, Sir, glad News of our discovery.  Ulyss. 
Declare't with speed in Diomedes hearing.  1. Sold. 
My fellow here, and I, entered the Vault  
With Lights, and for the space of three large Furlongs  
We found an easy passage, both might go a breast,  
Till we arrived where we could go no further,  
Which cannot be the end of this dark Cloister:  
For that which parted us did seem to be  
A weak mud Wall, through which we plainly heard,  
Though not distinguished, Voices of Men,  
And trampling of their Feet,  
Jingling of Bells, and howling out of Prayers,  
And sometimes Pallas, Pallas did resounded our Ears.  Dio. 
Ye Gods! This must miraculously be  
Beneath the Temple, and some private place  
To which the Priests retire to make Orazins.  Ulyss. 
Blessed News!  
The Oracle of Greece hangs on those Lips.—  
Hast, and prepare such Engines, and Materials,  
That can break through the Wall, and many Lights,  
To make the Dungeon brighter, than the day.  Exeunt Soldiers. 
Brave Diomedes come along with me;—  
This Night we'll sup together, and be merry,  
Ere we approach the Region of the Dead;  
Palladium shall be ours before to morrow;  
If we both fail, or in the Danger die,  
The vast Design shall crown our Memory;  
If we prevail, as great will be the Joy  
To win the famed Palladium, as to conquer Troy.  Exeunt Omnes. 
Finis Actus Primi.   

ACTUS SECUNDUS,  

SCENA PRIMA.  Hector, Andromache, A Table with Lights, Books, Sword, and Armour upon it. Hec. 
GO to thy rest, my Dear, thy Eyes are heavy,  
Like Tapers, that in Urns, do burn neglected,  
And give a Melancholy light.  
Repose thyself a little;  
'Tis almost day, and thou hast had no sleep.  And. 
Why is my Hector grown so weary of me?  
If I look heavy, 'tis because you are unkind;  
I have no rest, no Joy, but in your Company;  
To go to bed, is but to think of thee,  
And then, how can I sleep, or wish to do so?  
Let me lie down upon this Couch,  
And there I'll try if I can sleep by you;  
But then I'll promise, when I 've shut my Eyes,  
My Fancy shall pursue you, as I lie,  
And I will dream of nothing else but you.  Hec. 
My Life, my Love, my best Andromache,  
If thou sayst more, thou'lt mollify me quite,  
And turn thy Hector to a wanton Fool.  
What God could see thee, or but hear thee speak,  
And not forsake the Joys of Heaven for thee,  
Thou best of Women, and the chastest Wife—  
Go to thy Women, Dear— It is for thee  
I watch, and toil, and spend my weary Nights,  
To save the greatest blessing of thy life,  
That I may love thee long, and hold thee thus for ever.  And. 
Ah! why then would you part with me so soon?  
How most severely has my Love been dealt with!  
The God of Battles uses you all day,  
And to his Councils calls you every Night—  
It is so long since I have held you in  
These Arms, that I forget I ever did—  
Farewell— The God of War whom you adore,  
And Thousands, Thousands of choice Blessings keep you,  
Keep you more happy, than you think you are  
In my Embraces— Good Night.  Hec. 
Good Night, my Dear, my everlasting Love—  
Who waits there?— Sweet slumber dwell about thy Eyes,  
And joys immortal recreate thy Fancy.  Exit Andromache attended. 
Lift up thy drooping head old sinking Ilium,  
Behold the poor defence thoust placed in me;  
Look up, thou hadst more need of all the Gods  
For thy assistance, or that all thy Sons  
Were framed with minds invincible as Hector—  
O that thou wert as equal to the rest  
Of thy bold Grecian Adversaries,  
As I am to Achilles!  
Then fired with pleasure, and ambitious Glory,  
We two might fight, and set our Lives at stake  
For the decision of this tedious War:  
The Gods with leisure than might look from Heaven,  
To see their two great Champions of the World  
Dispute with terror this their mighty Cause,  
That took up all their care.— Ha!—  [A great noise within of Arm, Arm, Treason Treason.] 
Pallas, thou great Desendress of our City!  
What sudden noise is this!  
The Grecians may, (more early than their custom)  
March out by stealth, and storm the Walls by Night—  
To horse— Go fetch me Galatea straight—  
Send quickly to my Brother Troilus  
At Pallas Gate, and bid him come to me with speed  
For Orders— Drowsy slave begone— Paris,  Exit Sold. Enter Paris. 
What means these many loud, and hideous voices?  Paris. 
They are the Signs of some approaching danger—  
Our Enemies have entered by surprise,  
Or else the Citizens in Troops rebel.  
They run like Madmen, howling through the streets;  
Some call to Arms, and others cry out, Treason,  
And none can tell for what— strange dreadful noises  
Reach every Ear; the womens' louder Cries  
Drown the shrill sound of Warlike Instruments,  
Running like Furies, in their Torments Roaring.  
Their dull infatuated Spirits haunt  
The Court, as if some sudden Conflagration  
Had driven their Souls, as well as Bodies,  
Out of their dwellings.  Hec. 
Our presence shall disperse, and chide their Fears.  
I'll put my Life before 'em as a Guard.  Paris. 
Their sufferings have made them insolent;  
On me, and Helen, now they vent their malice.  
I heard 'em cry with tears, and anger loud,  
The Gods have justly punished us for Rape,  
Give back the ravished Helena again!  
We'll fight no more, till Helen be restored.  Hec. 
Let's haste to know the Cause— If it be Treason,  
This moment than shall make the Fruit abortive;  
We'll crush the Egg that holds this Cockatrice—  
Bring forth the Guards— We'll fright 'em worse than Death.  
Traitors are valiant but behind our backs,  
And never durst look Majesty i'th' Face.  Enter Troilus and meets them going off. Troi. 
Stay Sons of Priam, whether would you run?  
The Gods have left us, and we're all undone;  
there's nought abroad, but horror, and despair,  
A City all distract, without a head,  
Her ravished Temples, naked Altars, left  
Without a God.  Hec. 
What greater Losses are there to be feared  
Than Hector, Troilus, and Paris?  
And we are all in safety.  Troi. 
Pallas is gone, your Walls, and Towers are stripped  
Her great Palladium's fled, that held the mighty Spear,  
That guarded all our Lives— The Fate of Ilium,  
The Shield of Troy, and all the Grecians feared,  
Is sunk, and gone, and draws our Ruin after.  Hec. 
Speak Troilus again, if this be true,  
The wonder is too great to be believed  
O'th' sudden.  Enter to them Priamus and Guards. Pri. 
I came to find you out, my valiant Sons,  
Are we all hated by the Gods at last?  
Is my Cassandra's Prophecy come true already?  
Tell me the news, my aged head can bear it—  
Is Pallas fled to heaven from whence she fell?  Troi. 
No, but she's gone the nearer way, through Hell,  
Quite to th' Antipodes before this time.  
With dreadful signs she did foretell the World  
Her angry Journey; fierce Lightning light her way;  
The Temple shook, and Thunder cleft the Ground  
Through which she went. From Pallas Gate  
I heard the dismal noise, and saw the light  
She carried with her, leaving in its stead  
Cimmerian darkness wrapped in Clouds of smoke.  
The Priests came forth with their white holy Linen  
All stained with rueful spots of deepest red,  
As if 't had reigned a mighty shower of Blood.  
In vain it had been to demand the Cause:  
For fear, and horror made them speechless.  
The rest that were, lay dead upon the floor,  
With Arms cut off, for their profane presumption,  
In offering with their mortal hands to stay her.  
First in a rage she smote her lofty Spear  
Deep in the ground, and left it sticking there,  
The shaft extended up to such an height,  
No Titan's Arm, that with the Gods did fight,  
And scaled the high, and vaulted Arch of Heaven,  
Can reach it.  Pri. 
And left it as an angry testimony,  
Our Enemies shall dig into the Bowels,  
And pierce the Intrail of unhappy Troy,  
As that has done the Earth.  Hec. 
You suffer yourselves still to be deceived,  
And draw a Consternation from the Cause.  
For all the Tale that Troilus has told,  
The Goddess was beholden to mortal aid—  
This must be Treason of our own, a Plot  
Amongst our Enemies— Go secretly with speed,  
Seize on false Antenor: for to his guard  
Was Pallas Image left; the high Priest too;  
Take 'em and wrack 'em in the very moment,  
And place you fined 'em in— Quick, let 'em feel  
Worse torments than the Fiends of Hell endure,  
Till you've extorted from their painful Souls,  
Their true confession in their latest breaths,  
And bring us news with speed.  Paris. 
I'll be myself the Executioner.  Exit Paris with some of the Guard. Pri. 
O wretched Troy! but cruel Pallas more!  
Unhappy was thy kindness at the first,  
When building of a Temple to thy Name,  
Before 'twas covered, and the sacred roof  
Lay open, to our wonder thou wert found,  
Standing one morning in an awful manner,  
And Warlike posture fallen from Heaven to us,  
And walked, and fixed thyself a Statue there,  
Which filled our breasts with fatal Superstition,  
To think that we no longer could resist  
Our Enemies, than thou sho'udst dwell amongst us.  Troi. 
So great a Confidence was placed in it,  
That Women, and young Children, all were Valiant;  
But now the dreadful thoughts of this will make  
Mothers forbear incourageing their Sons,  
And Sons, with Superstitious fainting hearts,  
Let fall their Weapons.  Hect. 
Cursed Authors of their own ill Fate are they,  
Whose weak, dull Souls depend on prophecy.  
Is not the mighty jove, and all the Powers  
Above, and Hector here below your Guard?  
Though this Immortal Statue you deplore,  
Yet Pallas sees from Heaven, and whilst you all  
Are valiant, and forsake not your own selves,  
She still will be your wise and great Preserver;  
Pouring such Plagues upon the Grecians heads,  
'Twill make 'em wish, when they shall feel her Vengeance,  
That rather they had tasted Lethe's waters,  
Or drank quick Poison from th' Avernian Lake.  Pri. 
But to prevent this growing Mutiny,  
And cheat the People's dear loved Superstition;  
Let Death be straight proclaimed to any person,  
That dares report the loss of the Palladium;  
And have a new one framed, so like the former,  
That where it stands, all may adore it for the same.  Hect. 
'Tis Heavenly Counsel, and it shall be followed.  Reenter to them Paris, and Soldiers. Par. 
I bring you, Sir, yet more surprising News.  
The Traitor Antenor is fled the City,  
And gone to th' Grecian Camp for his reward,  
And with him too, I hope upon his head,  
All the designed, and evil Fate of Troy;  
But the high Priest we happily surprised,  
Just making ready for his flight to follow.  
Guilt, and t'eschew the pains, his pampered Flesh  
Could not endure, made him confess to us  
The dreadfullest Treason in the World, and none,  
But such a damned, unholy Priest could act.  
Hired with the vast, and mighty Sum, that sho'ud  
Have bought our peace with all the Grecian Princes,  
This Dog, this Archy Flamen over Hell,  
Did through a secret vault convey Ulysses,  
And Diomedes into the Town this Night,  
Which led into the Cloister of the Temple,  
And undiscov'rd was to all the World  
But him— I saw this wondrous place, from whence  
Those bold, and subtle Champions issued.  Hect. 
First let the place with secrecy be looked into,  
Then broken up, and filled with weighty stones,  
And underneath bury the Slaves alive.  
This was Ulysses' trick, his quaint advice—  
Oh! that I could but meet this Councillor,  
This cunning Mercury; meet him, though where  
Achilles, and the Furies were his Guard,  
I'd rush upon him, tear his Fox's skin,  
More eager than a hungry Wolf his Prey,  
Dash the Minerva in his brain, and silence  
At once for ev'er the Oracle of Greece.  Pri. 
To Arms, to Arms, we have a juster cause,  
Than Greece; for heaven now we fight, for Pallas;  
The Gods are robbed, and Troy is ravished now.—  
Let's ' sally forth this hour; a moment is delay.  Par. 
That they may see this Cowardly Act of theirs  
Has raised our Courage, not abated it.  Hect. 
No, I have thought—  
Of a more gallant way for our Revenge,  
And that it light upon Ulysses' head—  
A Herald shall be sent to th' Grecian Camp  
With offers of a three days truce from Arms  
Between both sides to be entirely kept;  
Then to demand the Combat from us Brothers  
With any three among their greatest Champions,  
And we'll to Morrow meet 'em in the Field  
Prepared between the City, and their Camp,  
In sight of both the Armies, Kings, and Princes,  
And all the Ladies, dressed like Goddesses  
Sitting on rich adorned triumphant Scaffolds,  
To dart new heat, with every shining Glance,  
Into the hearts of each brave Combatant,  
And charm the Gods with Prayers for their deliverance.  Par. 
Go on, go on— Haddit we no other Guard,  
We have the Gods, and Hector on our side.  Troi. 
I'm ravished with the Glorious thoughts of it,—  
The brightest Day of Honour I could wish for.  Pri. 
Ah Hector—  
Knew'st thou the bodeings of my heart, thou wouldst  
Not make thyself so Cruel, and me wretched,  
To put my only strength, your dearest persons,  
In danger, leaving me, like a rash Merchant,  
That ventures all his Stock, and Life at once  
To th' hazard of uncertain Waves.  Hect. 
Divert us not dear Sir, we cannot be  
In greater danger, than in multitudes  
Of Enemies, where many hideous deaths are armed:  
Here but with one shall each of us engage;  
Lesle is the hazard then, and more the honour.  Pri. 
Let me embrace my Guard, my Life, my Hector,  
The bravest, best Example of a Son.—  
Let then the Herald instantly be sent,  
And go, your Father's Champions all make ready.  Troy. 
That Herald I will be.  Hect. 
Now proud Achilles, thou that boasts thou wert  
Twice made immortal, first about thy heart,  
And then again with Lemnos hardened Steel,  
Through both thou didst this mortal Weapon feel,  
Which darted Lightning from thy famous shield,  
That Vulcan, and his Cyclops hammers forged.  
So jove with fire, on bolts of Thunder rode  
To punish some usurping petty God.—  
We to all Eyes, like threatning Comets are;  
All gaze on us, as Prodigies of War,  
That Fate, with trembling does itself divide,  
And whilst we live, dares turn to neither side;  
But equal holds the Scale, 'twixt Troy, and Greece;  
Thy death, or mine, brings Victory and Peace.  Exeunt, manet Paris Solus. Par. 
No Victory can e'er adorn my head,  
Till I have bended to thy shrine, O Love,  
And armed my body o'er with Beauty's Charms.—  
I will surprise my Helen with the News,  
Tell her the Joy I have to be her Soldier,  
And catch the blushes, parting from her Cheeks,  
Just ready to adorn the rising Sun,  
Like Handmaids ushering his Chariot o'er  
The lofty Eastern-hills— But see already,  Enter to him Helena attended. 
She comes, my Goddess dressed, and decked like Venus  
Descending, and perfumed with sweets of Incense,  
To bless the early Pray'ers of her Adorers—  
Queen of sweet Beauty, on the wondering Earth,  
And her far brighter Substitute, thou art—  
Give me thy hand, whiter, than Venus' Doves,  
And softer, than the down beneath their Wings;  
Sweeter than th' Air She breath's, when every Ev'ening  
She's driven in triumph o'er her Amber-Walk,  
And Titan Courts her on the Balmy shore:  Hel. 
Paris, my dear—  Par. 
What? all in tears, my Life, my Soul, my Helen?  
Make not a God of me before my time;  
This offering is the Gods, my fairest Queen;  
And jupiter, when he carouses high,  
Calls for such precious liquour in a full filled Bowl,  
The same that from th' immortal Cup is shed  
In the fair trembling hand of Ganymede,  
And drops in tears, that thus adorn thy Cheeks.  Hel. 
Ah Paris! are you weary of these Arms,  
And surfeited with these fond looks of mine,  
Which you so oft have praised, and said so, with  
The sweetest, kindest breath of yours—  Par. 
By Heaven, thy Beauties are immortal food;  
Still I do wish, and still I would obtain,  
And there's no end of my felicity;  
So vast a Continent there is in bliss,  
That when I think I've reached the massey Globe,  
Still more, and more I pry, and rush into  
Wider, and Richer new discovered Worlds.  Hel. 
Ah Paris! none has a more cunning Tongue  
To charm a Woman's easy breast, than you.  
Leave off such Signs, and give me proofs more Real.—  
I hear you are designed to Fight to Morrow,  
And hazard all that I esteem most dear  
To give me up to him I hate— Do not;  
By all the Charms, thy Charming Tongue calls sweeter;  
By my kind Life, my Honour, and my Love,  
Which I have heaped upon you, as you say  
To make you happy— Now I lay 'em at your feet,  
To tell you they can no way be preserved  
By any danger of your own.  Par. 
It is decreed, and thou shalt see me go  
Thy Champion, and that Name's invincible.  
Achilles' fights with Hector, and there's none  
Beside, (think not so meanly of thy Paris,)  
Dares stand in Competition with this Arm—  
The Herauld's gone; the Trumpets have already  
Sounded the Challenge, and my cheerful blood,  
Which thou inspire'st swells proudly in my veins  
With joy, that I must win a double Prize,  
Be crowned with Bays, applauded in thy Eyes.  Hel. 
Must I behold thee then?— I'll go; but thou  
Shalt see what great effects thy love can do;  
That when the Grecian Banners proudly fly,  
And my own country's shouts shall fill the Sky,  
I'll stop my Ears, and Love shall blind my Eyes,  
Though the loud noise to listening Gods should rise.  
No Greeks from Trojans shall of me be known,  
Nor Menelaus will I, but Paris own.  
For every drop of blood thy Helmet wears,  
I'll weep, and wash it with a thousand tears;  
But every time thou foil'st thy Enemy,  
And the least blessed advantage I can spy,  
Kisses Rewards, on wings of sighs I'll send to thee.  Par. 
I wish to Morrow then were come  
Swift as the ' eager blows I mean to make  
When I shall surely conquer for thy sake;  
I'll stand the Grecian Army in thy sight,  
And with the World dispute for thee my right,  
That none e'er loved like me, nor none like me dares fight.  Exeunt.  

SCENE Changes into the Grecians CAMP.  Enter Agamemnon, and Guards as from his Tent, at one Door, and Ajax, and Menelaus' at another Door. Aga. 
Good Morrow to my Brother Menelaus.—  
A Joyful day to the renowned Ajax.—  
'Tis early, but so fair a Morn I never saw.  Men. 
Happy may be the issue of this day.  
The Priests of Mars in offering found last Night,  
The wished for tokens, and propitious signs  
Of an acceptable, and pleasing Sacrifice.  Ajax. 
It thundered on a sudden, and before the Priest  
Had light the Sacred fuel on the Altar,  
Lightning descending, and to all our wonders,  
It broke into a flame, kindling itself  
With holy Fire from Heaven.  Men. 
An Eagle than was seen to roost hard by,  
And at the Light, flew round about the Camp,  
Over our heads, and to our wonder pitched  
Upon Ulysses Tent, but after it was seen no more.  Aga. 
Blessed News! These are all fair and happy Omens.  Ajax. 
What says our Royal General Agamemnon?  
Do you yet hold your Resolution  
To storm the Walls this Morning?  Aga. 
What else— Where is Ulysses? Summon all  
The Grecian Princes early to my Tent,  
Entreat Achilles' Company this Morning.  
We were ingrateful to the Gods; should we  
Let go this happy day, without the doing  
Of some admired, and memorable Act—  
What shouts are these?  Enter to them a Captain. Cap. 
A happy hour to Greece— Ulysses, Sir,  
And Diomedes— (Joy has seized my breath!)  
Have Conquered Troy, have ended the long War,  
Have won the Statue of the famed Palladium,  
The Goddess that has been so long our Enemy.  Aga. 
Ha! If thou mockest us; Villain thou shalt die.  Cap. 
O, Sir, 'tis true— Do you not hear the Joy?  
No sooner this was noised, but the whole Army  
Proclaimed their shouts of gratitude to Heaven  
Flocking about Ulysses, kneeling to him,  
Call him their Guardian, Patron, and Apollo,  
Then falling into Ecstasies, lie prostrate,  
Kissing the Ground whereon he treads, and bathe  
His feet with tears of Joy.  Aga. 
Let's all go forth and meet 'em.  Enter to them Ulysses, and Diomedes followed with many Soldiers Shouting. Cap. 
See where they come, the men of all the World,  
Most worthy to be praised.  Aga. 
Welcome Ulysses; welcome Diomedes,  
Near as the Joy that flows about my heart.—  
What have ye done, that with this mighty deed,  
You have anticipated Valour's self,  
Out fled the swistest, and most daring wishes  
Of all that valour, or Ambition fired.  
How shall Posterity reward this Act,  
But much less, how shall Agamemnon do it?  Vlyss. 
No more, it is already done—  
we've tamed this wondrous, awful Deity,  
That fell with such a dread from Heaven to Troy.  Dio. 
Straight let's pursue our Fortune; run and strike 'em,  
Whilst the cold damp's upon 'em, whilst their Souls  
Are giddy, and their Senses gone astray  
After their Goddess that we took away.  Enter to them Achilles, and Patroclus. Ach. 
What means this early, and unusual Concourse  
Of mad men, and the Rabble in the Army?  
Is it for Joy that you assault to day?  
Or is it done to magnify the deed  
That wise Ulysses has performed this Night  
In stealing the Palludium?  Aga. 
What deed can more deserve so just a Joy?  
Rather admire the Gods at so great News  
Meet not our Shouts in consort from the Skies,  
And strive with Thunder to excel our Voices.  Ach. 
By Heaven, they're Cowards voices all;  
That only have the Faces but of men,  
Carry their Hearts in their wide gaping Mouths,  
And ne'er durst fight, but when they first ask Counsel  
Of Augurs, and have dived into the entrails  
Of Beasts; uncertain Instruments of War,  
Never in tune when they should do some Service;  
So, till they're heightened, and served up into  
A pitch of valour by some flattering Divination,  
They are worse than Women, and infect a Camp.  Ulyss. 
Yes, such is Agamemnon here, and all the rest,  
But lofty vain Achilles, whose great Valour  
Has been beholden to himself and us,  
Too liberal Benefactors in Applause,  
Increasing so the Torrent of his pride  
That would overwhelm us all— Who but this Man  
Amongst you, Princes can, without Injustice,  
Stain thus the greatest Action of our Lives?—  
Say Diomedes, have we thus deserved?  
Wouldst thou embrace a deed dishonourable?  Dio. 
No— Nor would Achilles out of passion say so;  
A deed, that had I not been sharer of  
The glory in't myself, I should  
Have envied you Ulysses.  Ach. 
An Act of Glory! O deliver me ye Gods!  
By the high Throne of jupiter, I swear,  
I would not own it without a guilty Blush;  
A Thief, a Conjurer would have done as much,  
To rise, as if from Hell, in Devils shapes,  
And scare a Crew of heartless, naked Priests,  
Then steal and drag a Property away,  
A deed too far beneath the Soul of Diomedes—  
Come, separate thyself from his lewd Tongue—  
I've seen thee in the face of open day,  
Rush fore most on against a wood of Pikes  
(Like a fierce Horse) armed with thy shining Corslet,  
And with thy breast, stemmed the first furious Ranks,  
That held their steely points in vain against thee,  
Till thou hadst made their Shivers fly like Moats  
About the Sun.  Ulyss. 
Hark, Wise, and Valiant Princes—  
Behold the Spite, the Envy of this Man,  
This Tyrant God above you all that would be,  
That's blind to all men's Honours, but his own,  
Would grasp the world of Action to himself—  
Sink Greece, live Troy, and Countries turn to ruin—  
It must be so, if he have not a hand in't;  
All things depend upon his mighty Arm—  
How long shall we be thus misled by him!  
This railing Boaster, and blow up the bladders  
Of so much vain, and empty Pride, through which  
He swims and bears up so above us all.  Ach. 
Lift me ye Gods, upon the wings of Fury!  
ne'er let me lean my head on lazy Patience—  
Patroclus, Can I endure all this?  
Was I born Thetis mighty Son for this?  
When all the Powers of heaven concern'dly sat  
In an illustrious Senate at my Birth,  
To make my name Immortal, and decreed,  
That the least Grain of me should quite weigh down  
This poor and petty Prince of Ithyca—  
I boast, thou Talker!— [Comes up to him.]  
Hast thou so soon forgot the noted time,  
When like a Dragon in thy Aid I fought,  
And kept thee safe under my fiery wings,  
When Hector (in the sight of all thy Friends,  
To whom thou cried'st aloud in vain for help;)  
Hector (whose name thy trembling Tongue so oft has praised)  
Had struck thee down, and with another Blow,  
Was meeting with thy frighted Soul, that hung  
Upon thy Lips— I interposed, and covered  
Thy trembling Carcase with my weighty Shield,  
And on it bore the Shock of all his Thunder  
That else had rammed thee fast into the Earth,—  
And thou for this, with fawning, after gavest me  
For my Reward, an eloquent Oration.—  
I do this Tongue-Man here too great an Honour  
Thus to dispute— But you that worship him;  
I know ye all are envious that my Name's  
Too great amongst you in the War; are glad  
Ye'ave spoiled the promised Flower had decked my Garland,  
And robbed me of the Glory of this Action.—  
You knew that I would do it, when I said it,  
And rather than it should be done by me,  
Ye'ave done it basely, by the Gods you have!  
For which I swear for ever to forsake you.—  
May I be stripped of all my Immortality,  
And thrown with base Prometheus, to have  
A Vulture ever tearing of my Liver,  
ere I unsheathe my Sword in your Defence,  
Though I were sure 'twould save you all from Ruin▪  
Though, like a Plague, I could sweep Troy at once,  
And, at one stroke, complete your dear Revenge.  Exeunt Achilles, and Patroclus. Ulyss. 
There let him go— Prepare for the Assault—  
we've Ajax here, and Diomedes too;  
Either of them we hold as good as he.  
It will be worse than vultures to his Breast  
To see that we have conquered Troy without him.  Aga. 
A Trumpet sounds— Some news approaches.  Enter Captain. Cap. 
A Herald Sir, with Troilus is come  
From Troy.  Aga. 
Admit him safe with all the Honours due  
To th' Person of King Priam's Son.  Enter Troilus, and Herald. Aga. 
What would our brave, and generous Enemy?  Troi. 
Permit my Trumpet may be blown aloud,  
To reach the Ears of all your Grecian Captains.  Aga. 
Blow then, that the shrill sound may reach  
Both Poles, and tell the Gods your Message.  Herald Sounds. 
What now? speak your intentions.  Troi. 
Then as a Herald from the King of Troy;  
First, I demand a truce, for three whole days,  
Jointly to be observed betwixt both Armies,  
Then I'm commanded to declare that Prince,  
Or Captain, whatsoever he be, is both  
A Villain, and a Coward, that hath stolen  
The great Palladium, honoured so by us;  
And to let you see, our Hearts are not so sunk  
With the disaster, but we dare revenge it,  
I challenge any three of all your Princes,  
Were they more great, and valiant than Achilles,  
To fight with Hector, Paris, and myself,  
To Morrow in the face of both the Armies—  
What say you? Dare you answer us the Challenge?  Aga. 
We do, and never doubt, but that to Morrow,  
Early'as the Sun displays his beams about  
The place, to find three Champions there, as well  
Provided as yourselves.  Troi. 
I have my wish.  Aga. 
Till then farewell— Let all the Guards conduct  
The gallant Prince safe to the Gates of Troy.  
We'll in, preparing all for an Election,  
And with glad hopes expect to Morrow's light,  
When we will sit like Gods, and judge the Fight.  Troi. 
At the same time  
Our men shall let their winged voices fly,  
And tell the Gods what we have done below,  
And for each wound that on your Side is given,  
We'll shout aloud, and send the News to Heaven.  Exeunt severally▪ 
Finis Actus Secundi.    

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 Heaven;  
My Eyes pierce 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 fetched 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 outshine the Sun,  
Thy Swords, and Spears to harmless Ploughshares turn;  
Rich blood shall fat the Tillage of thy Land,  
And Corn shall grow where lofty Ilium stands.—  
Strike, strike, me dumb O all ye Gods severe!  
Why do I speak your Words when none will hear?  
In vain I told that Hecuba's loved Boy  
Should be the Fire, that would consume thee, Troy.  
With wringing hands I stood upon the Shore,  
And cursed the Fleet, that brought this Strumpet o'er,  
And had they but believed this Tongue of mine,  
Or minded these prophetic 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 Mischiefs that we see presumptuous men  
Grow fat and wallow in—  
Filled with a Legion of prophetic 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 headlong Brothers—  
They come— I'll 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'll crown thee with my green triumphant Laurels,  
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 charmed with thy reflection—  
Give me my Arms.— [Captain offers him his Arms]  And. 
Hold off thy sacriligous hands—  
Now, by my Hopes, I'll dress thee for my Soldier;  
Then if thou meetest 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 didst feel,  
Shall clasp thy body round with hardened steel—  
First let me place this Croslet on thy Neck.  Hect. 
So Venus decked the amorous 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 would adore instead of Mars—  
Here, take thy Sword, whole Herds of Grecians fear,  
More fatal than the great Palladium's Spear;  
Fledged with a wronged inveterate Woman's smart,  
Commend it from me, to achilles' Heart;  
From thy Andromache this token bear;  
Send it as quick, as I could 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  
Myself— These Tears, the precious 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 enlivening heat  
Through all my Sinews— I shall grow too big,  
And stretch my Body with a Fury so divine,  
Will burst this Iron mould— Let me go straight;  
I would not choose to be Achilles now,  
That boasts how he was dipped in Acheron,  
That jove culled from his precious Magazine,  
The choicest Arms, and gave it Thetis for her Son—  
Hark, hark, 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 loosed, 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 would 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 should 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 Heaven  
To her, and for thy sake refused 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  
Refused so rich, and mighty Bribes for thee?  Hel. 
Blame me not now the trembling hours 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 pierce the highest Cloud;  
Thou shalt not raise thy Voice to such a height,  
As I will gladly answer thee a' comes,  
He comes, armed by Andromache with Love,  
And Valour, that shall draw just admiration  
From th'envious Deities— Take this last token  
Of an assured, and happy Victory— [Kisses him.]  
Go, go, I'll pull my Eyes from thy dear sight  
Lest thou shouldst stay too long, and look no more,  
Till I behold rich Blood adorn thy Shield,  
Like drops of Coral on the spangled 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 chaste  
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 damned, burst from its flinty Womb,  
Is not so fatal— Fly this foul enchantress;  
Thick mists of Devils follow where she comes,  
And proclaim nought, but horror, and despair,  
Threatening worse Plagues, than Battles in the Air.  Troi. 
Disturb us not Cassandra with thy Zeal;  
Calm thy prophetic 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 inspired thee, with so cursed a Brow?  
Why hast thou left thy fond religious Cloister,  
And now again tormentest 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'll stop you with a Flood,  
And drown your way, with Currents from my Eyes;  
If that wont do, I'll pierce into the Vines  
Of famous Ilus, Dardanus, and Troas,  
Rip open the Monuments of your Ancosters,  
And dig your Fathers out with these hard Nails,  
That you may see the groaning Spirits that you wake.  Par. 
She's mad, and would infect us all—  Cass. 
'Tis thou art mad, thou Firebrand, thou Cerberus—  
O that I could but blot thy fatal Birth  
Out of Mortalitie's Records—  
How happy would it be for Troy, or else  
That thou hadst perished on Mount Ida's Top,  
Or lived 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 guests by that,  
As you have ever found my words prove true;  
Her Image still had kept your Walls and Towers,  
Had you believed her Oracle by me—  
Late at her Altar, as I lay last Night,  
Piercing the Parian-stones with my loud Cries,  
Softening the Steps with penetrating tears  
For you ingrateful Brothers, for whom, in vain  
I've spent whole Floods, and raised 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 Sunbeams in the Temple round displayed,  
When straight a heavenly awful Form I spied,  
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 looked, me thought, that by my side,  
Did the great Myrmidonian Captain stand  
With an advanced, and bloody Weapon in his hand—  
Villain, said I, whose blood has stained thy Sword?  
'Tis thine a' cried, 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 suborned  
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 Arms, more soft, than the great Grecian Champions,  
Knew'st thou the danger, would not be denied—  
By heaven, 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,  
Should sink, how soon would 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 Prophecy.  Exeunt Brothers. Cass. 
Go then—  
Be cursed, and perish to the worst degree  
Of unbelieved, 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 summoned 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 armed 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 dangerous▪ Eyes, who can withstand 'em here!  
Those fatal Lamps that shine, and rule i'th' Sky,  
Look not so bright, nor do they wound so nigh.  Ulyss. 
Bear up, and shake her Subtle Charms away;  
Look on Revenge, more sweet, and bright than They.  Men. 
Help me ye Powers! I'll cross her as She goes—  
O Gods! How swelled with shameless Pride She shows!—  
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 readest Grief, and Vengeance in my Face?  
Fear'st thou not, Mountains should upon thee fall,  
And hurry into Hell thy perjured Soul—  
How I could curse, and please my heart to rail,  
But when I view those once loved Eyes, I fail.  Hel. 
You do ill Menelaus  
To tax me now with Falsehood, 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'll 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 Woman's Soul to think—  
Ah, let me call to mind thy cunning Lies,  
Thy many oft repeated Perjuries—  
Before the Priest our eager Joys had crowned,  
And we walked o'er the rich enameled Ground,  
As o'er the Meadows, and the Lawns we trod,  
Thou like a Goddess, I thy Sylvan God;  
Fair as Elysium, I those Walks would call,  
And thee, than beauty's first Original,  
Still we went on, with loving Arms combined,  
Our Eyes mixed Light, and all our Senses joined.  
Am I not kind, said you, with fatal Smiles?  
The Ivy clasping so, the Oak beguiles,  
Whose treacherous kindness Root and Branches kills.  Hel. 
O me! For pity I'll be gone—  
I fear you will Relapse, and grow too Weak.  Men. 
Nay, you shall see you. 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 Cursed when I am false to you.  
Couldst thou more Vows repeat, and Oaths recall,  
Thou then hadst said, and then hadst broke 'em All.  Dio. 
Prepare; the Trojan Champions are all ready,  
And proudly walk around the Lists.  Men. 
Farewell 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 declared 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 [Too 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 given,  
He that Survives shall Reign alone in Heaven.  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 prepared 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 Odds  
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 Heaven, 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.  They all Fight, Patroclus is killed, and Paris falls upon Menelaus. Trojan Trumpets sound. Hect. 
Thou wert not dipped 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' 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, and 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 Cursed Cassandra's spiteful Prophecy.  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 Burden 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 sorsaken Shrine,  
Eternal, and implacable Revenge—  
Fall on, fall on, and Guard your Master's Life—  
I'll 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, should strike thee Dead in this fond Action—  
Our Gene'rall Agamemnon's Royal Breath  
Proclaimed 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 ne'er yet fanned thy Soul  
Into a Royal Flame, dull Counsellor.—  
Tell me of Laws, when Sacred Friendship here  
Lies Bleeding so, and with its 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 would pull Hector from his Seat Divine,  
To light my dear Patroclus' Funeral Torch—  
I shall grow Tame— Fall on for my Revenge—  
This Dismal 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 Enjoin you This before I Die,  
Believe 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 killed thee. [Polyx. mourns o'er his Body.]  Hect. 
O let me go— Were there a Thousand Fates, [Andro. holds Hector]  
And more Cassandra's here to threaten Ruin,  
I'd 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 shult be pleased 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 resolved to stand betwixt.  Ach. 
Away, away, with all the speed you can,  
Whilst this safe Beauty holds thee in her Arms,  
And my dear Murdered 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'll follow you; but these sad Eyes of mine  
Shall never part from this, dear Woeful sight,  
Till his devouring Tomb has swallowed him. [To some of the Trojan Guard.]  Paris. 
Take up the Body, and wait on our Sister.  Exeunt. Hector, Paris, etc. Manent Achilles, the dead Body of Patroclus, Polyxena, weeping o'er 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'll have whole Heaps attend thy Funeral,  
Ilium shall sink, it's shining Temples burn,  
And Hills of Gold run melting to thy Urn—  
I'll send a Scourge to lash the slow Revenge  
Of Hector— Quickly take his bleeding Body,  
And earlier than th' Assault begins to Morrow,  
Drag ye his hated Carcase through the Ditch [To his Myrm.]  
That runs about the Town, before the Eyes  
Of the Astonished Priam, and his Blood—  
What, do you fear to touch him?  Polyx. 
O heavens'! 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 precious 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 hadst thou lived in than unwholesome Lake,  
And poisonous Flood, where blackest Spirits bathe?  
Through all thy Veins runs filthy Acheron,  
And thy base Blood contains the River Styx—  
Cannot his horrid Murder 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 Joints all tremble when you frown,  
Like Leaves upon an Aspin's tender Twig,  
Shook by the ruffling Winds—  
See, I will show you such a precious Sight, (runs to the Body.)  
The gallantest, bravest, dearest, loveliest Creature,  
(I'm sure, when a'was living he was so.)  Ach. 
Villains! Furies! shall I be played with all?  Polyx. 
Look, look thou Darling of the divine Thetis.  
Shall these soft Lips of his that I have kissed  
A thousand times, the Gates of his sweet Mouth,  
Be stopped with Dirt? shall these dear Hands be fastened  
To Horses-Tails, that I've so often tied  
With bracelets of my Hair? sat by his side,  
And pleased 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 enameled Flowers;  
Then burn the Arabian Phoenix in her Nest  
With Trees of richest Gums, and Spices blessed,  
To mingle with his Urn, 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's raised 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 loved 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'm lost in an eternal Night:  Polyx. 
You must not do't, he is too good to mean it— (She hold: 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 is't 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'll entreat 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—  
Hue off her hold, and drag the Body hence,  
She has a Legion of armed Trojans in her Eyes.  They unloose her hands by force, and take away the Body, than she rises and speaks. Polyx. 
I wish I had; and that thy Breast contained  
As many Souls, that I might wound 'em all—  
But since I can't, and I have nothing left,  
But a wronged Woman's rage to Curse;  
OH mayst thou fall less pitied, and less Brave  
Than Troilus, and may some Woman's Eyes  
Revenge me on thy cursed Cruelties,  
To love, and be deceived, and in the height,  
When thy proud Soul is giddy with delight,  
And all thy Senses for Enjoyment wait,  
Mayst 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  
Wrapped in eternal thought— What ails me, ha!  
I am all Hell, all Torments, and all Fury—  
O jupiter! How is thy Son oppressed!  
Something like Fire, and Water in my breast,  
In Thunder swells, and chokes me of my rest.  
Go spiteful Beauty, thou shalt dearly boast;  
To Morrow I'll send Hector with an host  
To wait upon my dear Patroclus Ghost.  Exeunt Omnes. 
Finis Actus Tertii.    

ACTUS QUARTUS,  

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 untamed 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. 
you'd best be brief; or with your Rhetoric,  
Try if you can drive Hector from the Walls,  
Hector whom every Moment we expect,  
Waked 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 slaughtered 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 saved 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 I've saved 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, backed on  
With all his fatal Myrmidons, has done.  Ach. 
By Peleus' Soul, and Thetis Godhead, now  
'Tis false, base Ithycan: Thou shelter'st  
Thyself from my just Rage beneath the Wing  
Of this respected Presence, else I'd strike—  
Strike, to thy Soul, this Javelin through thy Heart.  Aga. 
What means this unjust Rage amongst yourselves?  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 called to Council hear among you?  
Bear witness all ye Gods how I am injured!  
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 dismissed.  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 entreat you to disclose your mind,  
And he that interrupts you after this,  
Is Enemy to all— Is this a time  
For grudging Animosities to Reign  
In private Breasts?  Ach. 
I am rebuked—  
I can't be soothed, or bridled 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 framed,  
Of flesh though 't has so many strokes endured  
Of Ten years' Labour, yet can never weary  
The hand of Time, but must at last give o'er;  
An Anvil half so beaten would decay.  
Our Ships are all grown Old, some sunk with Age,  
And rooting grow into the lofty banks  
Of Tenedos— All yet we have received  
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— ay have, by my Invention,  
Thought of a mighty Engine to be framed,  
Most like a Horse, whose wide and spacious Womb  
May safely lodge a thousand Men at Arms  
Enclosed, not by the wisest, jealous Eye  
To be perceived— Send straight to Priam then  
With offers of an everlasting Peace,  
And that we'll hence return, contented with  
No other Article, than Love.— This Horse,  
As a rich Statue, we will then adorn,  
And send it to be fixed i'th' midst of Troy,  
Or in the Temple of the Goddess Pallas,  
As an Amends for the so fatal Injury  
Done on her ravished Image the Palladium,  
And a perpetual Monument of Peace  
Between both sides; whence, in the dead of Night,  
The bold adventurous Champions locked 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. 
Hark, there's a Charge already sounded.  Reenter achilles' and Myrmidons. Ach. 
Awake, awake from sleepy, tardy Counsels,  
And ere 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 haste. Dio. 
Hector's arrived. and like a roaring Lion  
Scatters whole herds of Grecians where a comes,  
And dreadful Slaughter reigns about his Sword.  
I saw him seize upon the dead dragged Body  
Of Troilus, and like a sudden Storm,  
Fell on the Executioners pale heads,  
And drove 'em all to covert, giving the mangled corpse  
Safe guarded, to the Custody of Women,  
That mourned as if they'd wake him with their Cries,  
And with their tears  
Did wash away the Dirt that closed 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 Bosom, 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'll 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 Generals 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 Master's way;  
Two hundred of your Brother's loss regain,  
By the great Hector in one Battle slain,  
Fond Troilus, this is a short reprieve;  
I'll fetch thee back, wert thou again alive,  
And though the Furies for't 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 armed,  
With Hector's hate, Patroclus love inspired,  
He will do wonders past the reach of Fame.  Ulyss. 
Woe be to us, or to the Trojans,  
If Hector, and achilles' chance to meet;  
Like two huge clashing Tempests in the Heavn's,  
They'll 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 die.  As they are going off enter to them Paris, and Soldiers. Par. 
Trojans rejoice, 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;  
Could I kill thee, my Fortune were Sublime,  
And I would 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 oppressed with odds!— Ulysses!  
Thou art the only Man next proud Achilles,  
That I'd be glad to kill— I thank thee jupiter—  
Remember that thou stolest the great Palladium—  
Have at thee, my fine subtle Mercury,  
Nor shalt thou scape from my impartial Vengeance,  
Unless thou'dst 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 loved Andromache  
Surprised, and almost murdered by the hands  
Of some foul Ravisher, and She cried loudly  
To all the Gods for her deliverance,  
Her dying Voice could not provoke me more  
To come like Lightning to her dear Revenge.  
Wert thou, again most dreadfully returned  
From Hell anointed, and hot reaking from  
The River Styx, or boiling Acheron,  
And stoodst on th' other side; in spite of fear,  
I'd swim the Brimstone-Lake to meet thee there.  Ach. 
weare 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 Heaven beneath his Mistress brow,  
Feels not the Joy that does possess me now.  
Hector—  
How dreadful to the World art thou and I!  
Who ere yet saw two Rival Suns i'th' Sky,  
But dreaded some prodigious 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'll reach thy Heart,  
As a bend 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 horror forth this dreadful Scene.  Hect. 
Achilles yes, how can the Gods but choose  
For thy base Rage on mangled Troilus,  
When thou didst tear his slaughtered Head away  
From the soft Breast of sad Polyxena,  
And in a brutish Valour thence did trail  
His gallant Limbs tied 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 crowned.  Hect. 
And I'll not be ungrateful:—  
For when I've killed thee▪ I'll exalt thee high,  
Upon some Pinnacle that hits the Sky,  
Where, all that feared this Grecian Deity,  
Shall flock together, and make sport with thee,  
Whilst thou dost proudly fit, 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 rammed, must break upon thee.  
Keep off— First let us try whose Fate it is, [To his Greeks.]  
Alone to Conquer: Say Hector, shalt 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 bleedest, each precious Drop that I behold  
Is more than worth an Army's Victory,  
Richer than all the Trojan blood that stains  
Tenedos Isle or bright Scamander's Plains.  Hect. 
Sure Vulcan's strokes upon my Arms I feel,  
Harder, than if his Anvil were my Shield—  
Eternal darkness shroud thy envious Light thou Sun,  
Withdraw thy Beams from the loathed 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 enchanted 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'er 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 country's Fame,  
And ever after live Achilles' name.—  
Drag hence his Body to the fatal Tomb,  
And, when my poor Patroclus Ghost is pleased,  
Drag him with Troilus to the Gates of Troy,  
And drown their woeful Cries with Shouts of Joy;  
The news to all your fellow Soldiers bear,  
Hector is Dead, the Terror 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 unhorsed,  
Has mounted once again; with his own hand  
He struck the Valiant Dciphobus down,  
And slew King Priam's hopeful youngest Son;  
Aeneas 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 trailed his hated Limbs,  
And harrowed o'er the rugged Flints his Bones.  Dio. 
Why means the brave Achilles so to do?  
Hector would ne'er 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 killed— Obey me straight.  [Soldiers carry off Hector's Body.] Dio. 
If nothing can your cruel Rage oppose,  
Think on the woeful State of Troilus.  
Coming this way, I met the sad Remains  
Haled by the wild, and dreadful Executioners,  
Assisted by thy Slaves, who acted o'er thy Vengeance  
With as much horror as thou didst Command,  
Whilst the most bright of all the Trojan Dames,  
The Virgin-Daughter of Queen Hecuba,  
Followed the mangled corpse with lamentable Cries,  
In a distracted Mien—  
Her golden Hair dishevelled round her waist,  
As bright, as if the Sun had her embraced,  
With an exalted Dagger in her hand,  
She threatened off the Guards, and made 'em stand;  
Thy horrid Myrmidons stood all abashed,  
And her fierce Beauty through their Arms did feel,  
That slighted, with its 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.   

The SCENE draws, and discovers Polyxena weeping over the dragged Body of Troilus, her Hair and Garments disordered, a Dagger in her hand, and the Myrmidons looking on.  Ach. 
The sudden dismal Object makes me start;  
Something like Ice does melt about my Heart.—  
Where am I Diomedes? Speak; canst thou say?  
Is that dead Troilus, and that Polyxena?  
Or is't some Deity that's sent below  
With all the Charms of Beauty, and of Woe?  
Dressed like the Morning Goddess she appears,  
Decking her beamy Locks in Dewy Tears.  
So the fair Empress of the Night, the Moon,  
Mourned and wept o'er her loved Endymion—  
Why Villains did you do this horrid Deed? [To the Myrm.]  
Though I had not, you should a'had hearts to bleed.—  
Look gentle Goddess, here Achilles bends,  
More awed, and trembling at thy dread Commands,  
Than he that at the great Tribunal stands—  
Ha! strike, strike where your Eyes began the smart,  [Offers to Stab herself.] 
And turn your pointed dagger to my Heart—  
Give me this fatal Instrument of Death—  Polyx. 
What, can I in no Place be free from thee,  
That haunts me with thy endless Cruelty,  
Deni'st me Life, and will not give me leave to die?  Ach. 
O Gods! I can no longer bear my Pain—  
I am all Flame, and scorched through every Vein;  
A thousand Furies in my Breast control,  
And lash with burning Whips my guilty Soul;  
Her Eyes shoot through me with a hot Desire,  
And her sad Tears pour Oil into the Fire—  
Give me thy Counsel gentle Diomedes—  
Yet run, and rescue, ere it be too late,  
And save the violated Hector straight;  
In thine own Arms convey him to my Tent,  
And bathe his Limbs with rich Ambrosiac Sent;  
Thy melting Cheeks to his pale Bosom lay,  
And with thy Tears wash the foul Dirt away—  
Fly with a Thought, a Moment is Delay.  Exit Diomedes. 
Now all ye Gods assist me from the Skies,  
Draw all your dropping Clouds into my Eyes;  
Neptune lend me the Sea to bathe in here:  
For whole great Rivers will not wash me clear—  
Here by the Side for ever I'll remain  
Close, till I've hatched thee into Life again.  [Lies down by Troilus.] Polyx. 
O Gods! What is't I see! Or do I dream?  Ach. 
Is there no help, nor can't I follow him?  
Why was I made Immortal thou great jove,  
If I am less than any God above?  
That for the thousand Mortals I have slain  
〈◊〉 obtain the power to make one Man—  
Look ●●●r'd Beauty, cast your Eyes on me,  
I● 〈◊〉 the Man through so much Guilt can see;  
Beneath thy dear wronged Brother's Ghost he lies,  
For ever fix'd till you shall bid him rise.  Polyx. 
Rise then and go— I pity thy remorse;  
I have no strength to rail, nor power to curse,  
And freely do forgive you from my heart,  
But only beg that we may never part. [Meaning the Body.]  
And that you'd suffer welcome Death to come,  
And lay us both together in one Tomb.  Ach. 
May I be blessed, and now believe my Sense!  
O Sacred Joy! O heavenly Excellence! [Rises from the Body.]  
Come Pluto from thy dark and dreadful Mansion,  
For I deserve not in this place to dwell—  
Take me, and sink me to the Depth of Hell—  Achilles sits down in a passion, and holds out his Arms and Legs to the Myrmidons. 
Come Myrmydons—  
Come all of you, and do as I command—  
Quick, quickly bind me, bind each hated Hand,  
And tie these Legs to fiery Horses Tails—  
Make haste, you murdering Dogs, you Slaves, you Snails.  
Let her in a Triumphant Chariot ride;  
Drag me, as I did Troilus, by her side,  
From whence she may behold the crimsoned Road,  
And every Stone died with Achilles Blood.  Polyx. 
What means this Madness, now it is too late.  Ach. 
Then I will live to be revenged on Fate. [Ach. rises.]  
Rise Goddess from this horrid Spectacle—  
Pity a Love whose pains no tongue can tell. [Polyx. rises.]  Polyx. 
Then wretched art thou more than I can wish,  
And I am surely cursed in hearing this—  
Love thee! The Gods defend me with their Care!  
Thy Soul is the Epitome of War;  
The raging Sea disturbed with furious Wind,  
Is not so ruff, as thy tempestuous mind;  
I would as soon embrace, within these Arms,  
The baited Panther, or the hunted Lion.  Ach. 
The Sea by Tempests made so dreadful, wild;  
Yet when the Sun appears, grows calm, and mild;  
Do thou serenely look, and kindly smile,  
'T will teach me how my roughness to beguile.  
Like the curled Lion, with thy Beauty charmed,  
I'll softly lay me down, and kiss thy Feet,  
And never stir from thy dear precious sight,  
But follow thee all Day, and watch by thee all Night;  
There's far more dread in cruel Beauty lies,  
And all my Strength is weaker than thy Eyes.  Polyx. 
Is't possible that Love can thee control,  
When Pity never yet could reach thy Soul?  
When I beneath thy Feet with sorrow lay,  
A Dragon would as soon have heard me pray.  Ach. 
O save these heavenly falling Tears—  
Richer than th' Essence of an April Shower,  
Whose each rare Pearl creates a gaudy Flower.  
Less precious Drops than these the Sun has shed,  
Which on obdurate Rocks have Diamonds bred:  
But I, inhuman, worse than Tigers bent,  
Heard all thy Prayers, and yet could not relent;  
Threw off thy Tears, which slid from my hard Heart,  
As Drops from unrelenting Marble, loath to part.  Polyx. 
Speak, speak no more— Behold these gaping wounds.  Ach. 
Remove the dreadful Cause of all her Woe, [To the Myr.]  
Deck him with all that Sweets, or Hands can do,  
Buckle a rich, and sable Armour on,  
Then, in a Hearse, convey him to the Town,  
Mourn in sad Sighs, and weep you all the way,  
Till you have left him in his Mother's Arms.  
Tell her, that henceforth just Achilles swears,  
He'll ne'er more stain his Sword with Blood of hers,  
But make the Grecians quit their Siege with speed,  
If she'd reward him with Polyxena. [They carry off the Body.]  Reenter Ulysses, and Meaelaus, Soldiers, with Parish Prisoner. Ulyss. 
Why stands the brave Achilles here so long?  
Paris is taken, and Hector thou hast slain.  Men. 
Their Soldiers are with Slaughter all cut off,  
And few are left at home to guard the Town.  Ulyss. 
Hast, to their sad forsaken Walls repair,  
And Greece to Day shall end this tedious War.  Ach. 
I thank thee Love, that thou hast showed the way,  
How I may now oblige Polyxena.  
Paris, thy Sister gives thee Liberty. [Unbinds Paris.]  Ulyss. 
What dares Achilles set my Prisoner free?  Ach. 
Ulysses, dare! That Breath should be thy last,  
By Hector's Soul, that livest to question me;  
But Love has charmed all Rage within my Breast—  
O that I could call Troilus, and Hector back  
So soon, I'd give a thousand lives with Joy.  Par. 
What wondrous happy change is this!  Ach. 
Know, Menelaus,  
That I alone have gorged thy greedy Vengeance,  
With blood of all the Trojan Sons, but this:  
Nay have done more than the whole War beside,  
Enough to satisfy the angry Gods.  
Let Peace be offered then before to Morrow,  
Or I'll no more against the Trojans fight—  
If you refuse, then leave me to my Choice;  
This Arm shall soon rejoice their drooping Hearts  
And turn the Scale; which with my strength I poised.—  
Divine Polyxena  
I'll send a Guard to wait you to the Town.—  
Will you kind Paris, be my Advocate?  Par. 
Why should the great and brave Achilles doubt it?  
No longer than to Morrow you'll expect,  
When you, and the poor Trojans you have saved,  
Shall happy be.  Ach. 
Then Troy look up above the envious Fates,  
Achilles now, and Beauty guards thy Gates,  
Whilst Love upon thy battered Walls does stand,  
And shoots swift Darts from his Immortal Hand.  Exeunt Ach. Paris, Polyxena, and Myrm. Men. 
O horrid Traitor!  Ulyss. 
I am the Traitor— Kill me, torture me  
That first deceived you, when I brought this Man,  
This furious, fickle, and tempestuous Devil,  
To be a Plague to our Designs and Hopes.  Reenter to them Agam. Ajax, Diom. with Guards. Aga. 
I met Achilles, as I came this way,  
Heedless, and in his Hand Polyxena.  Ulyss. 
Paris, a Prisoner taken in the Fight,  
'A has released, and cowardly bewitched  
With Beauty's Charms, has vowed to fight for Greece  
No more, and if you w'oned to Peace incline,  
He'll run from us, and with the Trojans join.  Aga. 
Hast, sound a quick Retreat through all the Army;  
Let every Prince draw up his Men together;  
Then instantly surprise, as in a Ring,  
His Myrmidons, and kill 'em every one.  Ulyss. 
Hold Agamemnon— Take this last Advice,  
And if it prove not to your Hopes, successful,  
Then all your Rage light on Ulysses Head—  
Achilles knows not yet of our Design  
Of the prodigious Engine of the Horse;  
Then let's go in, and call him straight to Council;  
Tell him we gladly shall embrace the Peace,  
That we'll remove the Camp to Tenedos,  
And leave this Statue to be placed in Ilium,  
As a perpetual Pledge of Faith between us;  
So, whilst yourself, and others grace his Wedding,  
You Ajax, Diomedes, and Menelaus,  
With some selected Troops close locked within,  
Shall hurry forth, aided with Midnight Silence,  
And so surprise both Trojans and Achilles.  Omnes. 
There spoke the God, the Oracle of Greece.  Ajax. 
In, in and prosecute this great Device.  Aga. 
Quick, let's embrace the Counsel of the wise.  Exeunt Omnes. 
Finis Actus Quarti.    

ACTUS QUINTUS,  

SCENA PRIMA.  SCENE opens to a Temple, and discovers Andromache kneeling before Hector's Tomb, his Armour and Sword upon it. Paris enters to her. Paris. 
What means the sad Andromache to mourn  
With endless Tears upon her Husband's Urn,  
As if she'd challenge Heaven, that lent no Ears?—  
Look up, behold the Gods have heard thy Prayers.  And. 
What art? I hear the Voice of blessed Tidings.  
But my dull Eyes, all swollen and drowned in Tears,  
Forbid that I should see the happy Man  
That brings such Comfort to Andromache.  Par. 
Peace spreads her Wings o'er all the Gates of Troy,  
Through every Street is heard the Sound of Joy,  
And buried Ilium now again appears;  
Rise like a Phoenix from thy Husband's Hearse.  
The Grecians have removed their Ten Years Siege;  
The widened Gates extend their longing Arms  
To let in proud Achilles, who this hour  
Is to be married to Polyxena.  And. 
Now Pity hold thy Tongue, or stop my Ears,  
If this be all the Comfort it declares—  
Blame not Andromache, though still she grieves,  
Whilst Hector's dead, and base Achilles' lives.  Par. 
Rise best of Women then, and swiftly move,  
Winged with the Charms of just Revenge and Love—  
Give me thy hand— Thus o'er his Sacred Tomb,  
His Spirit echoing from its Marble Room,  
Swear, that the Gods may hear us every Word,  
By Hector's Ghost, his Gauntlet, and his Sword.  And. 
What shall I swear?  Par. 
Revenge, Revenge for thy dear Husband's Death,  
Swift on the Head of haughty, proud Achilles,  
Anticipate his watchful Stars, that guard  
His hated Life, and snatch bright darling Vengeance  
From the fond Breast of jove, and execute  
So sudden, 'twill amaze the Rival God  
To see us favoured, and so doted on  
By his beloved, and courted Goddess.  And. 
See, see with eager haste, and longing Hopes,  
As ere I wished to see the happy Fruit  
Of a hard Birth I groaned with— Thus I swear  
By all these dear Remains, with Tears of Joy,  
And Sorrow mingled in a Shower together.  Par. 
And I by all these hallowed Bones,  
And buried Valour here— So, 'tis enough;  
Now give thy Eyes some respite from their just  
And tributaty Tears, to lead thee forth,  
Where thou may'st glut thy longing Sight, and reap  
Far greater and more pleasing Sacrifices  
To heap upon his Tomb, where for these Trophies,  
The Armour forged by Vulcan shall be laid,  
And on his Spear Achilles dreadful Head.  And. 
O tell me then, how I Revenge may have; [Come forward— upon the Stage]  
Nothing but that could force me from his Grave;  
Instruct me by what Mischief we may now  
Send this Immortal to his Seat below.  Par. 
Polyxena by Priamu's Command,  
And Hecuba's, is forced to give her Hand,  
To be the Sacrifice for all our Lives,  
Achilles' woeful Bride in Pallas Temple;  
Like poor Andromeda, to be there devoured  
By this Land Monster;—  
But I, like Theseus flying from the Gods,  
Will rescue her, and in his greedy Hand;  
Before the Priest has said his binding Prayer,  
This happy Arm, fledged with a venomed Dart,  
Shall send a Poison to his Mortal Place,  
And snatch her from his eager wished Embrace—  
These Shouts proclaim the Grecian Princes nigh,  
To meet the King, and grace Achilles' Wedding.  [Shouts within.] 
Retire, and with thy best Persuasions  
Divert the Mind of poor Polyxena.  And. 
Revenge, and Hector's Ghost shall be my Guide.  Exit Andromache. Enter to Paris, Agam. and Ulysses at one door, and Priamus and Guards at another. Aga. 
The heavens' preserve the Mighty Phrygian King,  
And Troy's Preserver, favoured by the Gods;  
Thus Agamemnon, and the Grecian Princes,  
Embrace the Union by Achilles made,  
Accept that Love has been so long exiled;  
Brave Breasts are subject still to gallant Enmity,  
That laid aside, contain the noblest Friendship.  Pri. 
How gay, and beautiful does Peace appear,  
Sprung from the aged grisly Bed of War.  
This lovely offspring of a Ten Years Siege,  
Has made us all enamoured of her Charms.  
The Joy had been too great without allay,  
Had Hector lived t' have seen this happy day.  Aga. 
By Hector's Death you but exchange a Son,  
achilles' now his Virtues, and his Place does own.  Ulyss. 
And more than that, we come not empty handed,  
But bring a Gift, a Sacrifice of Peace,  
That jupiter himself would gladly own,  
A noble Statue from Original,  
Divinely consecrate to your great Goddess  
Pallas, whom we most humbly now implore  
To take this Godlike Image to herself,  
And ever whilst she looks on that, forget  
The Crime done by Ulysses and the Grecians,  
In stealing her Divine Palladium,  
And so from hence to everlasting Ages,  
It shall be called the great Palladian Horse.  Pri. 
What Miracle is this of which you tell!  Ulyss. 
This glorious Body's of so vast a Bigness,  
That the most wide, and lofty of your Gates  
Too little is to let in— Give then Command  
That straight it may be brought into the Town,  
And I'll make known the Wonder of the World,  
And Bounty of the Gods to Troy.  Pri. 
Quickly, with all the Joyful Speed that can,  
Let a vast Gap be made in every Wall,  
And let the Priests, and all that are religious,  
In Triumph, and with Songs of Gratitude,  
Conduct this Guardian of our City in.  Ulyss. 
Know, Noble Trojans, that when first we ravished  
Your dread Palladium, with such prodigious Joy  
To Greece, and Terror to the Hearts of Troy,  
I wish Ulysses had that Night been slain,  
Or lost these Eyes that guided him, or left  
These most profane and Sacrilegious Arms  
Mangled, and cut from my unhappy Body,  
That first laid impious Hands upon her Godhead,  
Which brought so great a Plague amongst our Army:  
For worse than what you dreaded fell on us;  
You only feared, what we have felt with horror;  
Which still our Policy has kept concealed,  
Till Calchas, by Divinity inspired,  
And by the Mercy of the Goddess, did invent  
This Horse, by skilful Epeus framed, to be  
An endless Sacrifice, and Refuge for us;  
Which was no sooner done, but her pleased Vengeance stayed.—  
The Reason why its Vastness was designed,  
Was, if we had been forced to quit the Siege,  
And leave so great a Blessing to our Foes behind,  
It should be held a thing impossible  
To be conveyed into your City.   

SCENE opens, and discovers Cassandra in a distracted posture, with her Hair loose, running and catching hold of several Trojans that pass hastily to and fro the Streets, bringing in the Horse.  Cass. 
Hold Trojans, hold, you wilful wretched Men;  
Are you all mad? Or have you been so long  
Used and condemned to constant Misery,  
That y' are grown senseless and like the Salamander  
Live best in hottest Fires?— O stay, O hold  
Your dreadful Hands that pull a Vengeance on  
Your wretched Heads— Hark, hear my Voice in time.  
And let me roar into your Adder's Ears,  
The damned in Hell are not so wretched as  
You are— Ah me! why all this hast ingrateful Trojans?  
Must these magnific Walls be trampled on,  
That have defended you, your Wives and Children,  
So long, to let in this detested Pageant!  
O ominous Signs of your severe Destruction!—  
Stay, hear me once, before y' are quite undone:  
Achilles with a Thousand Myrmidon's  
Is not so dreadful as this fatal Horse— [Shouts.]  
D'y ' shout ye dull infatuated Monsters!  
This treacherous Joy betrays your Destiny:  
For your own Voices ring your Funeral Knells,  
And your vile hands have battered down these Walls,  
Whose ruinous, and revengful Heaps shall bury you.  Par. 
Cassandra, Sir, is broke amongst the Throng,  
And now again infected with her Madness,  
And filled with some deceitful Prophecy,  
Rails in the Streets with Curses in her Mouth.  
The fearful Trojans harken in a maze,  
Forsake their Stations, and with wonder gaze.  Pri. 
Let her alone, she's wretched only to herself,  
Born under such? Curse, she still does grieve,  
That none that hears her ever can believe.  The great Horse is discovered. Cass. 
It comes, it comes, the Fatal Hours at hand,  
This Monumental Pride shall sink thy Land,  
And thy vast Towers, swelled with prodigious Height,  
Shall groan, and fall under its mighty Weight—  
Where shall Cassandra show her Steps the way  
To hide her from the Horror of this Day?—  
Come all you Hills, your Weight upon me lay;  
Yet, yet more Mountains, yet more Earth I lack—  
Atlas come throw the World upon my back,  
And hide me, where I may for ever dwell  
Beyond the uttermost Abyss of Hell,  
Where I may see no Trojan Miseries,  
Nor Fiends torment me with their roaring Cries.  Par. 
See, seethe wondrous Horse appears so high,  
As if it nodded from the lofty Sky,  
And did descend to lick the Dew on Mountains.  Cassandra comes forward upon the Stage. Cass. 
Ah Priamus, what has thy folly done,  
Unworthy to be called Dardanus Son?—  
Why has thy Mortal Hands profaned with Guilt  
These Walls, by Neptune and Apollo built;  
Troy's Sacred Beauty, and its Strength removed,  
By Phoebus, and the Ocean so beloved?—  
Behold this Horse, 'tis not the Grecians God,  
But the vast Trees, that on Mount Ida stood,  
Has brought forth this prodigious Birth of Wood  
His Belly is a Camp that holds an Army,  
And those hard monstrous Rows of dreadful Teeth  
Are Trenches that it is defended with;  
Those wide and gaping Nostrils Air receive,  
And draw in breath, whereby a Thousand live;  
This Land-Ship in its monstrous Deck infolds  
More than your Fleet upon the Ocean holds.  
You are deceived to think you have no Foes;  
They are not all removed to Tenedos:  
For the best part of all the Crecian Force  
Is mustered in the Belly of this Horse.  Ulyss. 
O hateful Blasphemy against the Gods!  
She is possessed by some infernal Spirit,  
That makes this horrid Sound come from her Mouth.—  
'Tis your ill Fate that threatens you, O Trojans,  
Who envious of your Happiness  
Come covered o'er with her Religious Madness,  
To ruin you if you believe her.  Pri. 
Bear it, with all your Sacred Reverence,  
To Pallas Temple, and there let it stand,  
Where once the great Palladium stood.  Cass. 
O dreadful Sound! O woeful King of Troy,  
And Traitor to thy own Felicity!—  
Must her Walls down? her golden Roofs lie flat,  
To be a Stable for this filthy Horse!  
Have you no pity, no remorse left for yourselves?  
O save the Cries of Infants, that this Night  
Will all be torn from their dear Mother's Breasts,  
And their young Heads be dashed against the Walls,  
And ravished Virgins run about the Streets  
With fearful Shrieks, to wake the groaning Dead  
To their Relief.  Pri. 
Take her away; convey her to her Cloister,  
There let her hollow to the Marble Walls,  
Till she's convinced, and come t'her self again.  Cass. 
O hear me first, my Knees bent to the Ground,  
My Eyes with Tears, and Showers of Sorrow drowned—  
Stay your Commands, benumbed, and wretched King,  
Are y'all turned Statues with Ulysses Tale?  
The Adamantine Rocks, or frigid Zone,  
Are more relenting, and more soft than you.—  
I was an evil Spirit, and deceived you,  
When I foretold the Fate of Troilus,  
And gallant Hector's Death, which the rash Men  
Had both avoided, had they heard my Counsel.  Pri. 
Guards instantly remove her.  Cass. 
O mind what I shall tell; This Hill of Wood,  
This Mountain of prodigious Timber here  
Does groan to be delivered of a Monster  
More fierce than Hydra, with a thousand Heads  
Armed with impenetrable Steel— mind you—  
It's every motion makes a jarring Sound,  
As if the Gods, to punish 'em, had raised  
A civil War within its spacious Womb.—  
I saw old Laacoon, with Zeal inspired,  
Run from the steep and high Watch Tower of Troy,  
(A Lance grasped in his steady hand) from whence  
He saw this dreadful Engine first appear,  
And dauntless making to the huge Machine,  
Struck with his Spear a mighty Blow thereon,  
When straight there issued from its bellowing sides,  
A noise like Thunder, when joves' angry Bolts  
Are trolled along the Pavement of the Sky,  
Or th' rattling Sound of Phoebus' Chariot Wheels,  
Driving along the Marble Firmament.  Ulyss, 
Now may the Goddess strike this Woman dead  
That showed her Vengeance on old Laacoons Head.—  
Witness you just revengful Powers on high,  
And you brave Trojans, kill me if I lie.  
No sooner had he done this horrid Deed,  
But Heaven this Judgement for his fault decreed;  
I saw the giddy, and profane old Priest,  
With long wreathed Serpents twisted round his Body,  
And on his Breast, in view of all  
The Trojan Princes, and the Grecian Kings,  
The fearful Adders left their forked Stings.  Cass. 
O it was false, your Eyes were all deceived;  
It was a Trick, the Cunning of Ulysses,  
To cheat your Sights with such deluding Objects,  
Which to my Sense Illusions did appear,  
And all the Serpents, Conjurations were.  Pri. 
I'll hear no more— Away with her—  
And shut her up for ever in her Vault—  [Guards offer to take her away.] 
Come Princes, now my Son Achilles wants you,  
Longing till you conduct him to the Temple.  Cass. 
Hear then, what Heaven by me foretells you,  
The Goddess from this minute hates you all,  
Eternal Ruin on your Heads shall fall— [Raves.]  
Hark, hark— The Noise begins— The Tempest rolls,  
That swallows up your misbelieving Souls—  
Pale faced Revenge with tall red Murder meets  
With noise of Blood, and Horror in the Streets—  
The Horse has littered, see, and from it breaks  
A thousand untamed, mad, and furious Greeks—  
There's Diomedes, Ajax too, and more,  
Give the Watchword— Now all the Grecians roar;  
The Thunder's loud, and Pallas Temple shakes,  
The Noise, mad sleeping Hecuba awakes;  
Half naked, and distract along she reels,  
A Tribe of ravished Matrons at her heels—  
Give me my Children, than aloud She's heard;—  
And takes that old rough Grecian by the Beard.—  
See, all around shines a bright burning Light,  
And Hector's Ghost runs trembling at the sight—  
There's old Anchises, out of breath, and lame,  
Beckons his Son to help him from the Flame;  
Then good Aeneas, through the fiery Track,  
Carries his aged Sire upon his back—  
Pity the poor young Man— Away, away,  
The blazing towers shall guide thy Steps till day.—  
So— Dissolution reigns— Distruction's nigh—  
Help us, Cassandra, now in vain they cry—  
I see— I hear, but will in spite be dumb—  
Burn Ilium, burn— I told you what would come.  Exit Mad. Pri. 
Run, quickly follow her, and watch her Steps—  
She is arrived to the extremest height  
Of wretched Madness.  Enter to them Achilles, Polyxena, Helen, and Andromache attended. Ach. 
Why, beauteous Goddess, dost thou lay aside  
The charming Features of a cheerful Bride?  
Bedew'st the Earth in waist with Pearly Showers?  
Where Virgins in the way have scattered Flowers.  
Joy in the Face of all the World appears;  
But sad Polyxena is still in Tears.—  
Welcome brave Gen'ral, by my Joy thou art; [To Agamemnon]  
Welcome Ulysses, welcome to my Heart—  
Where's Diomedes, Ajax, and the rest?  
Could they not come to see Achilles blessed!  
Thou Agamemnon, enviest not the Sight,  
To see me lie, and bask in Heaven to Night—  
O how the Pleasure to my Sense is brought,  
Beyond the exquisite Device of Thought.  
My longing Arms about her I will twine,  
Like Woodbine, Jessamin, or the curling Vine;  
She, like the Sun, when the kind Spring is nigh,  
And I the ravished Globe lie melting by;  
Still brooding o'er the Treasure of my Love,  
And laugh at all the envious Gods above.  And. 
Polyxena, you are unjust to mourn,  
You're happy, and your Joys are all to come,  
But mine are buried in my Hector's Tomb.  Polyx. 
Ah Sister, will you not believe these Eyes?  
I swear, I'd rather go a Sacrifice,  
And offer up my Blood, this Peace to gain,  
Than be the Queen of all this Nuptial Train.—  
Yet I must go to keep you all from Ruin.  And. 
But canst not save thy Husband's hated Breath. [Aside.]  Ach. 
Come my dear Friends, and let's to Hymen go,  
With all the Pomp, and Glory we can show—  
Come beauteous Helen, and Andromache,  
And thou most fair, and beauteous of the Three;  
Cynthia bedecked with Stars, shines not so bright,  
As thou shalt gild the lower World to Night—  
Let these two Princes take thee by the Hands,  
As jove, and Mars, led Venus o'er the Sands,  
Or as thy Mother Hecuba was led  
By Asian Kings, a Globe upon her Head,  
And brought in Triumph to her Nuptial Bed—  
Ah! Father Priam, why do we not go?—  
Come all you Sylvan Gods, and show the way,  
You Nymphs, and Virgins sing before, and play,  
Whilst my Divine Polyxena, and I,  
View all around Elysium Tapestry—  
Let confined Lovers wanton under ground,  
We'll tread above, with Nobler Pleasures crowned—  
Tell me the Tales of amorous Gods no more,  
We are Immortal, and Divine all o'er,  
The thousand ways to Pleasure jove enjoys  
Are less than the dear Blessings of these Eyes.  Exeunt, as to the Temple, Achilles led by Andromache and Helen, and Polyxena led by Agamemnon and Ulysses. Manet Paris Solus. Par. 
A goes, with Love's great Expectation cursed,  
And filled so full, this moment a'will burst.  
Love shall prolong thy Destiny no more,  
Whose borrowed Wings does proudly make thee Soar.—  
Help me, ye Gods, and lift me up on high,  
To pull this horrid Meteor from the Sky,  
Though thou dost ride the Chariot of the Sun,  
Fate shall assist this Hand, to strike thee down,  
Rash Phaeton, like whom thou dost aspire,  
With thy hot Brain to set the World on Fire.  Paris going off, the Scene draws to the Temple, and discovers Priamus, Agamemnon, Achilles, Ulysses, Polyxena, Helen, and Andromache, Priests, and Attendants. Priamus giving Polyxena to Achilles, Paris behind the Altar. Pri. 
Forgetting, brave Achilles, what we 'ave lost,  
And the revengeful Cries of Hector's Ghost,  
To please the Gods, and end this fatal Strife,  
I give you my loved Daughter for a Wife,  
In hopes you'll prove a far more happy Son,  
And heal the Trojans of the Wrongsy ' have done—  
Now Hymen, and the Priests, conclude the rest,  
And Pallas in the Heavens make you blessed.  Paris behind the Altar unseen, stings a Dart, and wounds Achilles. They all come forward upon the Stage. The Temple shuts. Ach. 
Ha! ha! Polyxena— what ails my Heart!  
Sure 'twas not Love that gave that deadly smart—  
I'm hurt— O Gods! Who can the Pain endure!  
O Hercules! I'm struck with Lightning.  
Help me— I'm stung— O give me room,  
Some Serpent 'tis has bit me by the Heel,  
I was Immortal else.—  And. 
Thanks Paris, thou the gallant Deed hast done. [Aside.]  Ulyss. 
His Life's betrayed, there's Treason, though unknown—  
Princes, let every man secure his own.  Polyx. 
Ah me, how miserable was I born!  Pri. 
Bear witness all ye Gods my Innocence!  
I'm more astonished at the Deed than you.  Ach. 
What Coward, Slave, has hurt me in this Part,  
That durst not look Achilles in the Face—  
Ulysses, Ulysses— Take thy keen Sword,  
And with thy courteous Arm cut off this Joint—  
Quick, quick— Base, and untimely am I snatched.  Ulyss. 
Seek out the Traitor. [Paris comes forward.]  Par. 
You need not— Here he stands that did the Deed.  
I Paris, in the Face of all the World,  
And in the sight of jove, will Justify,  
That this revengeful, and successful Arm,  
Has done it, for the sake of Troilus,  
Whom cowardly, and basely he did murder,  
Encompassed with his bloody Myrmidons;  
Then him, and Hector, most obscenely dragged  
About the Walls, in sight of all the Trojans,  
That saw the dismal Sight with bleeding Hearts,  
And weeping Eyes.  Ach. 
Ha, jove! Must I then fall by him whose Head  
But Yesterday I saved from Slaughter!  
Hear me Alcides, help thy bleeding Son—  
In spite of Tortures— All the Pangs of Hell  
Shan't hinder me, but like a wounded Lion  
I'll rush upon him, tear him with my Fangs  
And sprinkle his nauseous Blood about the Air—  
Ha! Let me go— D'ye hold me?— Let me go—  
What shall Achilles know the cursed Slave,  
Whose Hand has killed him, and die unrevenged!  
Hear me Ulysses,— Help me Agamemnon—  
Where— where are my Myrmidons?— Go fetch 'em—  
Hear, hear Achilles—  Par. 
Guards all assist me, and secure my Life—  
Who ever stirs shall meet Achilles' Fate.  Pri. 
Ye Gods! What's in this moment to be done.  Ulyss. 
Fly thou with all the Wings of faithful speed,  [Aside to two Grecians.] 
And bid the Camp at Tenedos remove,  
And swiftly lead their Army forth to Troy—  
Another run to watchful Sinon straight;  
Command him to unlock the Horse this Moment—  
Tell Diomedes, Ajax, and the rest,  
That now's the time to issue forth, and win  
The Town— Go, tell 'em what has happened,  
And bid 'em be as quick as Lightning.  [Exeunt 2 Grecians.] Ach. 
Help me— O carry me but to the Traitor—  
Shepherd— Come from the Covert of thy Guards.  
And if thou dar'st, out face me in the Storm—  
O Thetis! pray the Gods to lend me Wings  
Instead of Feet, to help thy wounded Son,  
That I may fly like the Imperial Bird,  
And snatch this Mountain-Pigeon for my Prey—  
Am I forsaken?— Gods, will not you hear me then?—  
Still dost thou weep, my dear Polyxena! [To Polyx.]  
Art thou not glad, glad that this hated man  
Is snatched away in view of all his Hopes,  
That murdered Troilus, and killed brave Hector,  
In spite of all thy Prayers, and softer Tears,—  
Whose gentle Power might then have stayed, and charmed  
Thunder from the revengeful Hand of jove—  
Now, now I feel the weight of all thy Curses,  
And heavier Sorrows on me.  Polyx. 
I wish this Tongue of mine had then been blasted,  
Or that those Curses had light heavier on  
This woeful Head; I than had been more happy.  Par. 
Brave Agamemnon, since the thing is done,  
That all the Power of Man can ne'er retrieve,  
And Troilus, and Hector are revenged,  Paris 
declares in the behalf of Troy,  
That in Achilles all its Foes are slain—  
Henceforth we'll call you Friends, and from our Hearts  
Embrace the Peace, as was before designed,  Ulyss. 
Trojans, Let us retreat: for we deny  
All Friendship with the Murderers of Achilles.  Ach. 
Thanks kind Ulysses, bravely hast thou said:  
Revenge will please my Ghost when I am dead—  
Let all the Grecians to my Burial come,  
And there repeat their Vows upon my Tomb,  
That Troy in Pyramids of Flames shall burn,  
Its Gold and Jewels into Ashes turn,  
And only spare this Virgin for my sake. [Meaning Polyx.]  [Alarm, and shouts within.] Ulyss. 
Achilles has no sooner said the word,  
But his Revenge is come.  Enter a Trojan. Troj. 
Fly Priamus, to Refuge straight retire,  
Your Enemies come armed with Sword and Fire.  
Thousands of Grecians set the Streets on Flame,  
Whilst we stand all amazed from whence they came.  
Legions without encompass round the Town;  
Sure all the Gods to aid 'em are come down:  
For less than in a moment Troy is won.  Pri. 
Now we find true Cassandra's Words too late.—  
Come sad Remainder of lost Priam's Children,  
Let us all bourn, and die together.  And. 
With greater Joy, than live after my Hector.  Ach. 
O stay by me— O save Polyxena.  Exeunt Priam. Polyx. Andr. and Helen. Paris. 
Damned Traitors! Yet I am resolved  
To die no Coward's Death.  Ach. 
Hold Agamemnon, and support me firm—  
Inspire me with new Strength ye Gods, but till  
I die revenged— A falls, the Traitor falls.  Agamemnon, and Ulysses support Achilles who kills Paris. 
And thus I triumph in my Death.  Par. 
Farewell to Beauty now, and all the World,  
Helen, and I have troubled it too long—  
My Soul moves heavy onwards with the thoughts,  
That Menelaus now will grasp thee all—  
Take her— O there's the Hell I go to meet with—  
Bear witness Heaven I part not with my Life  
With half so much regret. [Dies.]   

SCENE opens, and discovers Troy Burning.  Ulyss. 
Look there Achilles, see that gallant Sight;  
Will that revive thee? Now in Flames thou seest  
Troy burn thy Sacrifice before thou diest,  
And each of all thy gallant Myrmidons  
Revenge their Master's Death with slaughter of  
A thousand murdered Trojans.  Ach. 
When e'er I fell, thus 'twas decreed on high,  
Thus should be seen, thus Thetis Son should die,  
A Kingdom's Ruin to attend my Fall,  
And burning Cities light my Funeral.—  
Like the Sun's Bird, the Phoenix, in her Fire,  
In Flames of Gold, and Spices, I'll expire—  
Come fellow Soldiers, help me to a Seat,  
And lay this cursed Trojan at my Feet.—  They seat Achilles in a Chair with Paris beneath his feet. Achilles' looks towards the Town. 
Thus, like the King of Slaughter from my Throne,  
I'll send my Guard of Fates to scourge the Town,  
And thus in State, till my last wand ring Breath,  
Sit, and behold the Pageantry of Death.  [Achilles Dies.] Aga. 
He's gone, and as he always lived, a' dies;  
The haughtiest, greatest, bravest Man on Earth.  Enter to them Diomedes, Menelaus, Ajax, Captain's, and Soldiers. A Retreat Sounded. Dio. 
Sound a Retreat from all your thirst of Blood;  
Our Mortal Senses can endure no more—  
Brave Agamemnon, and Ulysses safe!  
We come to crown you with Eternal Fame—  
All Obstacles that stood before our way,  
Are either drowned in Blood, or burnt in Flame.  Men. 
What, mourn you o'er Achilles' Body there!  Ajax. 
Then is our Conquest sullied with Despair.  Dio. 
Had we won all the World, and this to see,  
It were a fatal Check to Victory.  Aga. 
What are become of all the Trojan Princes?—  
Here lieth Paris at Achilles' Feet,  
Slain by that gallant Man, who first by him,  
Was in Minerva's Temple basely wounded.  Dio. 
The lamentable King and Queen,  
With the poor Remnant of their Friends, and Daughters,  
Were all surprised by us, where they had fled  
For Refuge to the Temple— With this hand  
I Sacrificed the bleeding Priamus,  
Just bending on his knees before the Altar;  
But all the Women, we took pity on,  
And have secured them free from any harm,  
Only Andromache escaped our Care,  
And to the Temple she again returned,  
Where, with her Husband's Ashes she was burned.  Aga. 
Now Brother Menelaus,  
You with your beauteous Helen may repair,  
And homewards bring the Price of all the War.  Ulyss. 
Thus we see ended all these fatal Broils,  
The Plague of War, and Ten Years constant Toils—  
First lend each noble Arm to lift in State,  
This gallant Corpse, and mourn Achilles' Fate;  
Then, like a Soldier, bear him to the Fleet,  
Losing no time to court inconstant Gales,  
But with glad Shouts fill all our empty Sails,  
Turning our Joyful Eyes upon the Plain,  
Where the sad Troy in Ashes does remain.  Exeunt Omnes.   
FINIS.   

Pag. 23. line 9 read Lightning descended.   

Epilogue, Spoken by Mrs. Quynn.  

THe Author is to beg your kindness now;  
He therefore chose me out the Task to do:  
For Women are best skilled in wheadling you.  
He knows not yet how you have Censured him,  
Whether his Epilogue you will esteem,  
As a glad Flourish after Victory,  
Or the Swans Note, that sings when She's to die:  
But finding 'twas a Tax upon the Play,  
He rushed on boldly, and thus bid me say,—  
To the fair Sex he first this Answer gives,  
If they should chance to ask, why Helen lives?  
It was the truth, as History declares,  
(If there were any such as Trojan Wars,)  
If this famed Siege were no Bear-Garden Fray,  
And Ajax was no Butcher, as some say—  
Yet let her live, and find a far worse Doom,  
T'a jealous Cuckold to be tied at home,  
Think how to jilt, and never have the Power,  
And that's a Curse that many of us endure.—  
Next, to the Men, if they're displeased, to find  
Her Husband, after all this Stir, so kind,  
We must confess that it is strange to see;  
Yet some of you have done't, more quietly;  
Not like th' Heroic Cuckold who for's Bride  
Has at the Bar as fierce a Combat tried,  
As Hector, and Achilles ever did,  
Of which more famed Records are in the Hall,  
Than are of Troy, or Amadis de Gaul—  
As for the Men of Gallantry, and Wit,  
That love like Paris, and like Hector fight,  
They will not sure be sorry when they see  
This good Example for their Ease to be:  
For who among you's such a hungry Lover  
Would after ten years eat the same Dish over.  
Next for Andromache, 'tis hard to find  
A Wife that is so constant, or so kind:  
We've no such foolish Widow in our Nation  
That will be taught by such a Scurvy Fashion;  
But soon as e'er She can, think of betrothing  
Some proper, brawny Fellow that has nothing.   
FINIS.