SCENE XI.-Another part of the Field. Enter ENEAS and Trojans. Ene. Stand, ho! yet are we masters of the field: Never go home; here starve we out the night. Enter TROILUS. Tro. Hector is slain. All. Hector!—The gods forbid ! Tro. He's dead; and at the murderer's horse's tail, Ene. My lord, you do discomfort all the host. Let him, that will a screech-owl aye be call'd, Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian plains, I'll through and through you!—And thou, great-siz'd coward! No [Exeunt ENEAS, and Trojans. AS TROILUS is going out, enter, from the other side, Pan. But hear you, hear you! Tro. Hence, broker lackey! ignomy and shame Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name! [Exit TROILUS. Pan. A goodly med'cine for my aching bones!-O world! world! world! thus is the poor agent despised! O traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you set a' work, and how ill requited! Why should our endeavour be so loved, and the performance so loathed ? what verse for it? what instance for it?-Let me see: Full merrily the humble bee doth sing, Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail.— cloths. As many as be here of pander's hall, Your eyes, half out, weep out at Pandar's fall: Or, if you cannot weep, yet give some groans, Though not for me, yet for your aching bones. Brethren, and sisters, of the hold-door trade, Some two months hence my will shall here be made: It should be now, but that my fear is this,Some galled goose of Winchester would hiss : Till then I'll sweat, and seek about for eases; And, at that time, bequeath you my diseases. END OF VOLUME THIRTEENTH. Printed by James Ballantyne, Edinburgh. [Exit. |