Document:  All > Shakespeare > Comedies > Troilus and Cressida > Act V, scene VIII

	[Enter HECTOR]

HECTOR: Most putrefied core, so fair without,
	Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life.
	Now is my day's work done; I'll take good breath:
	Rest, sword; thou hast thy fill of blood and death.

	[Puts off his helmet and hangs his shield
	behind him]

	[Enter ACHILLES and Myrmidons]

ACHILLES: Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set;
	How ugly night comes breathing at his heels:
	Even with the vail and darking of the sun,
	To close the day up, Hector's life is done.

HECTOR: I am unarm'd; forego this vantage, Greek.

ACHILLES: Strike, fellows, strike; this is the man I seek.

	[HECTOR falls]

	So, Ilion, fall thou next! now, Troy, sink down!
	Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone.
	On, Myrmidons, and cry you all amain,
	'Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain.'

	[A retreat sounded]

	Hark! a retire upon our Grecian part.

MYRMIDONS: The Trojan trumpets sound the like, my lord.

ACHILLES: The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the earth,
	And, stickler-like, the armies separates.
	My half-supp'd sword, that frankly would have fed,
	Pleased with this dainty bait, thus goes to bed.

	[Sheathes his sword]

	Come, tie his body to my horse's tail;
	Along the field I will the Trojan trail.



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