oil._ 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.

_Agam._ When mighty Hector fell beneath thy sword,
Their old foundations shook; their nodding towers
Threatened from high the amazed inhabitants;
And guardian-gods, for fear, forsook their fanes.

_Achil._ Patroclus, now be quiet; Hector's dead;
And, as a second offering to thy ghost,
Lies Troilus high upon a heap of slain;
And noble Diomede beneath, whose death
This hand of mine revenged.

_Ajax._ Revenged it basely:
For Troilus fell by multitudes opprest,
And so fell Hector; but 'tis vain to talk.

_Ulys._ Hail, Agamemnon! truly victor now!
While secret envy, and while open pride,
Among thy factious nobles discord threw;
While public good was urged for private ends,
And those thought patriots, who disturbed it most;
Then, like the headstrong horses of the sun,
That light, which should have cheered the world, consumed it:
Now peaceful order has resumed the reins,
Old Time looks young, and Nature seems renewed.
Then, since from home-bred factions ruin springs,
Let subjects learn obedience to their kings. [_Exeunt._

EPILOGUE,

SPOKEN BY THERSITES.

These cruel critics put me into passion;
For, in their lowering looks I read damnation:
You expect a satire, and