St. Patrick. He gave me the challenge. Why should I him deny?
How low he lies who held himself so high!
King. Oh! Hector! Hector! help me with speed,
For in my life I ne'er stood more in need.
[Enter Hector.]
King. Stand not there, Hector, with sword in hand,
But fight and kill at my command.
Hector. Yes, yes, my liege, I will obey,
And by my sword I hope to win the day.
If that be he who doth stand there
That slew my master's son and heir,
Though he be sprung from royal blood
I'll make it run like ocean flood.
[They fight. Hector is wounded.]
I am a valiant hero, and Hector is my name,
Many bloody battles have I fought, and always won the same,
But from St. Patrick I received this deadly wound.
[Trumpet sounds for St. Andrew.]
Hark, hark, I hear the silver trumpet sound,
It summons me from off this bloody ground.
Down yonder is the way (pointing);
Farewell, farewell, I can no longer stay.
[Exit Hector.]