ke you early known to their young eyes,
And Hector is the universal shout.

_Hect._ Bid all unarm; I will not fight to-day.

_Troil._ Employ some coward to bear back this news,
And let the children hoot him for his pains.
By all the gods, and by my just revenge,
This sun shall shine the last for them or us;
These noisy streets, or yonder echoing plains,
Shall be to-morrow silent as the grave.

_Andr._ O brother, do not urge a brother's fate,
But, let this wreck of heaven and earth roll o'er,
And, when the storm is past, put out to sea.

_Troil._ O now I know from whence his change proceeds;
Some frantic augur has observed the skies;
Some victim wants a heart, or crow flies wrong.
By heaven, 'twas never well, since saucy priests
Grew to be masters of the listening herd,
And into mitres cleft the regal crown;
Then, as the earth were scanty for their power,
They drew the pomp of heaven to wait on them.
Shall I go publish, Hector dares not fight,
Because a madman dreamt he talked with Jove?
What could the god see in a brain-sick priest,
That he should sooner talk to him than me?

_Hect._ You know my name's not liable to fear.

_Troil._ Yes, to the worst of fear,--to superstition.
But whether that, or fondness of a wife,
(The more unpardonable ill) has seized you,
Know this, the Grecians think you fear Achilles,
And that Polyxena has begged your life.

_Hect._ How! that my life is begged, and by my sister?

_Troil._ Ulysses so informed me at our parting,
With a malicious and disdainful smile:
'Tis true, he said not, in broad words, you feared;
But in well-mannered terms 'twas so agreed,
Achilles should avoid to meet with Hector.

_Hect._ He thinks my sister's treason my petition;
That, largely vaunting, in my heat of blood,
More than I could, it seems, or durst perform,
I sought evasion.

_Troil._ And in private prayed--

_Hect._ O yes, Polyxena to beg my life.

_Andr._ He cannot think so;--do not urge him thus.

_Hect._ Not urge me! then thou think'st I need his urging.
By all the gods, should Jove himself descend,
And tell me,--Hector, thou deservest not life,
But take it as a boon,--I would not live.
But that a mortal man, and he, of all men,
Should think my life were in his power to give,
I will not rest, till, prostrate on the ground,
I make him, atheist-like, implore his breath
Of me, and not of heaven.

_Troil._ Then you'll refuse no more to fight?

_Hect._ Refuse! I'll not be hindered,