Troilus and Cressida Translation Act 5, Scene 5
Enter DIOMEDES and a Servant
Go, go, my servant, take thou Troilus' horse; Present the fair steed to my lady Cressid: Fellow, commend my service to her beauty; Tell her I have chastised the amorous Trojan, And am her knight by proof.
Go, go, servant, take Troilus's horse and show it to my lady Cressida. My man, tell the beautiful lady that she is mine, tell her I beat her Trojan lover, and I am now her knight because of this.
I go, my lord.
I will go now, my lord.
Renew, renew! The fierce Polydamas Hath beat down Menon: bastard Margarelon Hath Doreus prisoner, And stands colossus-wise, waving his beam, Upon the pashed corpses of the kings Epistrophus and Cedius: Polyxenes is slain, Amphimachus and Thoas deadly hurt, Patroclus ta'en or slain, and Palamedes Sore hurt and bruised: the dreadful Sagittary Appals our numbers: haste we, Diomed, To reinforcement, or we perish all.
Rally! Rally! The fierce Polydamas has beaten Menon, Margarelon the bastard has Doreus prisoner and stands over him like the Colossus of Rhodes, waving this sword over the broken bodies of the kings Epistrophus and Cedius. Polyxenes is dead, Amphimachus and Thoas are fatally wounded, Patroclus has been taken prisoner or killed, and Palamedes has been badly beaten. Their cavalry are terrifying our soldiers. We must hurry, Diomedes, to reinforce our soldiers, or all of us will die.
Go, bear Patroclus' body to Achilles; And bid the snail-paced Ajax arm for shame. There is a thousand Hectors in the field: Now here he fights on Galathe his horse, And there lacks work; anon he's there afoot, And there they fly or die, like scaled sculls Before the belching whale; then is he yonder, And there the strawy Greeks, ripe for his edge, Fall down before him, like the mower's swath: Here, there, and every where, he leaves and takes, Dexterity so obeying appetite That what he will he does, and does so much That proof is call'd impossibility.
O, courage, courage, princes! great Achilles Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance: Patroclus' wounds have roused his drowsy blood, Together with his mangled Myrmidons, That noseless, handless, hack'd and chipp'd, come to him, Crying on Hector. Ajax hath lost a friend And foams at mouth, and he is arm'd and at it, Roaring for Troilus, who hath done to-day Mad and fantastic execution, Engaging and redeeming of himself With such a careless force and forceless care As if that luck, in very spite of cunning, Bade him win all.
Troilus! thou coward Troilus!
Ay, there, there.
So, so, we draw together.
Where is this Hector? Come, come, thou boy-queller, show thy face; Know what it is to meet Achilles angry: Hector? where's Hector? I will none but Hector.
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