The Bodleian First Folio

A digital facsimile of the First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Bodleian Arch. G c.7.



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Reference: 3¶1r - Tragedies, p. [25]

Left Column


Troylus and Cressida. Sold.

Achilles, Achilles, Hector's slaine, Achilles.

Dio.
[3400]

The bruite is, Hector's slaine, and by Achilles.

Aia. If it be so, yet braglesse let it be: Great Hector was a man as good as he. Agam. March patiently along; let one be sent To pray Achilles see vs at our Tent.
[3405]
If in his death the gods haue vs befrended, Great Troy is ours, and our sharpe wars are ended.
Exeumt.
[Act 5, Scene 10] Enter Æneas, Paris, Anthenor and Deiphœbus. Æne. Stand hoe, yet are we masters of the field, Neuer goe home; here starue we out the night. Enter Troylus. Troy.

Hector is slaine.

All.
[3410]

Hector? the gods forbid.

Troy. Hee's dead: and at the murtherers Horses taile In beastly sort, drag'd through the shamefull Field. Frowne on you heauens, effect your rage with speede: Sit gods vpon your throanes, and smile at Troy.
[3415]
I say at once, let your briefe plagues be mercy, And linger not our sure destructions on.
Æne. My Lord, you doe discomfort all the Hoste. Troy You vnderstand me not, that tell me so: I doe not speake of flight, of feare, of death,
[3420]
But dare all imminence that gods and men, Addresse their dangers in. Hector is gone: Who shall tell Priam so? or Hecuba? Let him that will a screechoule aye be call'd, Goe in to Troy, and say there, Hector's dead:
[3425]
There is a word will Priam turne to stone; Make wels, and Niobes of the maides and wiues; Coole statues of the youth: and in a word, Scarre Troy out of it selfe. But march away, Hector is dead: there is no more to say.

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Right Column


[3430]
Stay yet: you vile abhominable Tents, Thus proudly pight vpon our Phrygian plaines: Let Titan rise as early as he dare, Ile through, and through you; & thou great siz'd coward: No space of Earth shall sunder our two hates,
[3435]
Ile haunt thee, like a wicked conscience still, That mouldeth goblins swift as frensies thoughts. Strike a free march to Troy, with comfort goe: Hope of reuenge, shall hide our inward woe.
Enter Pandarus. Pand.

But heare you? heare you?

Troy.
[3440]
Hence broker, lackie, ignomy, and shame Pursue thy life, and liue aye with thy name.
Exeunt. Pan.

A goodly medicine for mine aking bones: oh world,

world, world! thus is the poore agent dispisde: Oh trai­

tours and bawdes; how earnestly are you set aworke, and

[3445]

how ill requited? why should our indeuour be so desir'd,

and the performance so loath'd? What Verse for it? What

instance for it? let me see.

Full merrily the humble Bee doth sing, Till he hath lost his hony, and his sting.
[3450]
And being once subdu'd in armed taile, Sweete hony, and sweete notes together faile. Good traders in the flesh, set this in your painted cloathes; As many as be here of Panders hall, Your eyes halfe out, weepe out at Pandar's fall:
[3455]
Or if you cannot weepe, yet giue some grones; Though not for me yet for your aking bones: Brethren and sisters of the hold‑dore trade, Some two months hence, my will shall here be made: It should be now, but that my feare is this;
[3460]
Some galled Goose of Winchester would hisse: Till then, Ile sweate, and seeke about for eases; And at that time bequeath yon my diseases.
Exeunt. ¶¶¶
FINIS.

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[Act 5, Scene 10] Enter Æneas, Paris, Anthenor and Deiphœbus. Æne. Stand hoe, yet are we masters of the field, Neuer goe home; here starue we out the night. Enter Troylus. Troy.

Hector is slaine.

All.
[3410]

Hector? the gods forbid.

Troy. Hee's dead: and at the murtherers Horses taile In beastly sort, drag'd through the shamefull Field. Frowne on you heauens, effect your rage with speede: Sit gods vpon your throanes, and smile at Troy.
[3415]
I say at once, let your briefe plagues be mercy, And linger not our sure destructions on.
Æne. My Lord, you doe discomfort all the Hoste. Troy You vnderstand me not, that tell me so: I doe not speake of flight, of feare, of death,
[3420]
But dare all imminence that gods and men, Addresse their dangers in. Hector is gone: Who shall tell Priam so? or Hecuba? Let him that will a screechoule aye be call'd, Goe in to Troy, and say there, Hector's dead:
[3425]
There is a word will Priam turne to stone; Make wels, and Niobes of the maides and wiues; Coole statues of the youth: and in a word, Scarre Troy out of it selfe. But march away, Hector is dead: there is no more to say.
[3430]
Stay yet: you vile abhominable Tents, Thus proudly pight vpon our Phrygian plaines: Let Titan rise as early as he dare, Ile through, and through you; & thou great siz'd coward: No space of Earth shall sunder our two hates,
[3435]
Ile haunt thee, like a wicked conscience still, That mouldeth goblins swift as frensies thoughts. Strike a free march to Troy, with comfort goe: Hope of reuenge, shall hide our inward woe.
Enter Pandarus. Pand.

But heare you? heare you?

Troy.
[3440]
Hence broker, lackie, ignomy, and shame Pursue thy life, and liue aye with thy name.
Exeunt. Pan.

A goodly medicine for mine aking bones: oh world,

world, world! thus is the poore agent dispisde: Oh trai­

tours and bawdes; how earnestly are you set aworke, and

[3445]

how ill requited? why should our indeuour be so desir'd,

and the performance so loath'd? What Verse for it? What

instance for it? let me see.

Full merrily the humble Bee doth sing, Till he hath lost his hony, and his sting.
[3450]
And being once subdu'd in armed taile, Sweete hony, and sweete notes together faile. Good traders in the flesh, set this in your painted cloathes; As many as be here of Panders hall, Your eyes halfe out, weepe out at Pandar's fall:
[3455]
Or if you cannot weepe, yet giue some grones; Though not for me yet for your aking bones: Brethren and sisters of the hold‑dore trade, Some two months hence, my will shall here be made: It should be now, but that my feare is this;
[3460]
Some galled Goose of Winchester would hisse: Till then, Ile sweate, and seeke about for eases; And at that time bequeath yon my diseases.
Exeunt.
 

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<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<div type="scene" n="10" rend="notPresent">
   <head type="supplied">[Act 5, Scene 10]</head>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Æneas, Paris, Anthenor and Deiphœbus.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-tro-aen">
      <speaker rend="italic">Æne.</speaker>
      <l n="3407">Stand hoe, yet are we masters of the field,</l>
      <l n="3408">Neuer goe home; here starue we out the night.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Troylus.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-tro-tro">
      <speaker rend="italic">Troy.</speaker>
      <p n="3409">
         <hi rend="italic">Hector</hi>is slaine.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-all">
      <speaker rend="italic">All.</speaker>
      <p n="3410">
         <hi rend="italic">Hector</hi>? the gods forbid.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-tro">
      <speaker rend="italic">Troy.</speaker>
      <l n="3411">Hee's dead: and at the murtherers Horses taile</l>
      <l n="3412">In beastly sort, drag'd through the shamefull Field.</l>
      <l n="3413">Frowne on you heauens, effect your rage with speede:</l>
      <l n="3414">Sit gods vpon your throanes, and smile at Troy.</l>
      <l n="3415">I say at once, let your briefe plagues be mercy,</l>
      <l n="3416">And linger not our sure destructions on.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-aen">
      <speaker rend="italic">Æne.</speaker>
      <l n="3417">My Lord, you doe discomfort all the Hoste.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-tro">
      <speaker rend="italic">Troy</speaker>
      <l n="3418">You vnderstand me not, that tell me so:</l>
      <l n="3419">I doe not speake of flight, of feare, of death,</l>
      <l n="3420">But dare all imminence that gods and men,</l>
      <l n="3421">Addresse their dangers in.<hi rend="italic">Hector</hi>is gone:</l>
      <l n="3422">Who shall tell<hi rend="italic">Priam</hi>so? or<hi rend="italic">Hecuba</hi>?</l>
      <l n="3423">Let him that will a screechoule aye be call'd,</l>
      <l n="3424">Goe in to Troy, and say there,<hi rend="italic">Hector's</hi>dead:</l>
      <l n="3425">There is a word will<hi rend="italic">Priam</hi>turne to stone;</l>
      <l n="3426">Make wels, and<hi rend="italic">Niobes</hi>of the maides and wiues;</l>
      <l n="3427">Coole statues of the youth: and in a word,</l>
      <l n="3428">Scarre Troy out of it selfe. But march away,</l>
      <l n="3429">
         <hi rend="italic">Hector</hi>is dead: there is no more to say.</l>
      <cb n="2"/>
      <l n="3430">Stay yet: you vile abhominable Tents,</l>
      <l n="3431">Thus proudly pight vpon our Phrygian plaines:</l>
      <l n="3432">Let Titan rise as early as he dare,</l>
      <l n="3433">Ile through, and through you; &amp; thou great siz'd coward:</l>
      <l n="3434">No space of Earth shall sunder our two hates,</l>
      <l n="3435">Ile haunt thee, like a wicked conscience still,</l>
      <l n="3436">That mouldeth goblins swift as frensies thoughts.</l>
      <l n="3437">Strike a free march to Troy, with comfort goe:</l>
      <l n="3438">Hope of reuenge, shall hide our inward woe.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Pandarus.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-tro-pan">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pand.</speaker>
      <p n="3439">But heare you? heare you?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-tro-tro">
      <speaker rend="italic">Troy.</speaker>
      <l n="3440">Hence broker, lackie, ignomy, and shame</l>
      <l n="3441">Pursue thy life, and liue aye with thy name.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exeunt.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-tro-pan">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pan.</speaker>
      <p n="3442">A goodly medicine for mine aking bones: oh world,
      <lb n="3443"/>world, world! thus is the poore agent dispisde: Oh trai­
      <lb n="3444"/>tours and bawdes; how earnestly are you set aworke, and
      <lb n="3445"/>how ill requited? why should our indeuour be so desir'd,
      <lb n="3446"/>and the performance so loath'd? What Verse for it? What
      <lb n="3447"/>instance for it? let me see.</p>
      <lg>
         <l n="3448">Full merrily the humble Bee doth sing,</l>
         <l n="3449">Till he hath lost his hony, and his sting.</l>
         <l n="3450">And being once subdu'd in armed taile,</l>
         <l n="3451">Sweete hony, and sweete notes together faile.</l>
         <l n="3452">Good traders in the flesh, set this in your painted cloathes;</l>
         <l n="3453">As many as be here of Panders hall,</l>
         <l n="3454">Your eyes halfe out, weepe out at<hi rend="italic">Pandar's</hi>fall:</l>
         <l n="3455">Or if you cannot weepe, yet giue some grones;</l>
         <l n="3456">Though not for me yet for your aking bones:</l>
         <l n="3457">Brethren and sisters of the hold‑dore trade,</l>
         <l n="3458">Some two months hence, my will shall here be made:</l>
         <l n="3459">It should be now, but that my feare is this;</l>
         <l n="3460">Some galled Goose of Winchester would hisse:</l>
         <l n="3461">Till then, Ile sweate, and seeke about for eases;</l>
         <l n="3462">And at that time bequeath yon my diseases.</l>
      </lg>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exeunt.</stage>
</div>

        
        

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