_Troil._ This were too much, even if thou hadst been false! But oh, thou purest, whitest innocence,-- For such I know thee now, too late I know it!-- May all my curses, and ten thousand more, Heavier than they, fall back upon my head; Pelion and Ossa, from the giants' graves Be torn by some avenging deity, And hurled at me, a bolder wretch than they, Who durst invade the skies!
_Cres._ Hear him not, heavens; But hear me bless him with my latest breath! And, since I question not your hard decree, That doomed my days unfortunate and few, Add all to him you take away from me; And I die happy, that he thinks me true. [_Dies._
_Troil._ She's gone for ever, and she blest me dying! Could she have cursed me worse! she died for me, And, like a woman, I lament for her. Distraction pulls me several ways at once: Here pity calls me to weep out my eyes, Despair then turns me back upon myself, And bids me seek no more, but finish here. [_Points his Sword to his Breast._ Ha, smilest thou, traitor! thou instruct'st me best, And turn'st my just revenge to punish thee.
_Diom._ Thy worst, for mine has been beforehand with thee; I triumph in thy vain credulity, Which levels thy despairing state to mine; But yet thy folly, to believe a foe, Makes thine the sharper and more shameful loss.
_Troil._ By my few moments of remaining life, I did not hope for any future joy; But thou hast given me pleasure ere I die, To punish such a villain.--Fight apart; [_To his Soldiers._ For heaven and hell have marked him out for me, And I should grudge even his least drop of blood To any other hand. [TROILUS _and_ DIOMEDE _fight, and both Parties engage at the same time. The Trojans make the Greeks retire, and_ TROILUS _makes_ DIOMEDE _give ground, and hurts him. Trumpets sound._ ACHILLES _enters with his Myrmidons, on the backs of the Trojans, who fight in a ring, encompassed round._ TROILUS, _singling_ DIOMEDE, _gets him down, and kills him; and_ ACHILLES _kills_ TROILUS _upon him. All the Trojans die upon the place,_ TROILUS _last._
_Enter_ AGAMEMNON, MENELAUS, ULYSSES, NESTOR, AJAX, _and Attendants._
_Achil._ Our toils are done, and those aspiring walls, The work of gods, and almost mating heaven, Must crumble into rubbish on the plain.