_Troil._ If I mistake not, 'tis their last reserve: The storm's blown o'er, and those but after-drops.
_Hect._ I wish our men be not too far engaged; For few we are and spent, as having born The burthen of the day: But, hap what can, They shall be charged; Achilles must be there, And him I seek, or death. Divide our troops, and take the fresher half.
_Hect._ No dispute of ceremony: These are enow for me, in faith enow. Their bodies shall not flag while I can lead; Nor wearied limbs confess mortality, Before those ants, that blacken all yon hill, Are crept into the earth. Farewell. [_Exit_ HECT.
_Thers._ Now these rival rogues will clapperclaw one another, and I shall have the sport of it. [_Exit_ TROIL. _with_ THERS.
_Myrmid._ Up yon sandy hill; You may discern them by their smoking track: A wavering body working with bent hams Against the rising, spent with painful march, And by loose footing cast on heaps together.
_Achil._ O thou art gone, thou sweetest, best of friends! Why did I let thee tempt the shock of war, Ere yet the tender nerves had strung thy limbs, And knotted into strength! Yet, though too late, I will, I will revenge thee, my Patroclus! Nor shall thy ghost thy murderers long attend, But thou shalt hear him calling Charon back, Ere thou art wafted to the farther shore.-- Make haste, my soldiers; give me this day's pains For my dead friend: strike every hand with mine, Till Hector breathless on the ground we lay! Revenge is honour, the securest way. [_Exit with Myrm._
_Troil._ Then, that one spot of earth contains more falsehood, Than all the sun sees in his race beside. That I should trust the daughter of a priest! Priesthood, that makes a merchandise of heaven! Priesthood, that sells even to their prayers and blessings And forces us to pay for our own cozenage!
_Thers._ Nay, cheats heaven too with entrails and with offals; Gives it the garbage of a sacrifice, And keeps the best for private luxury.
_Troil._ Thou hast deserved thy life for cursing priests. Let me embrace thee; thou art beautiful: That back, that nose, those eyes are beautiful: Live; thou art honest, for thou hat'st a priest.
_Thers._ [_Aside._] Farewell, Trojan; if I escape with life, as I hope, and thou art knocked on the head, as I hope too, I shall be the first that ever escaped the revenge of a priest after cursing him; and thou wilt not be the last, I prophesy, that a priest will bring to ruin. [_Exit_ THER.