Ul. Behold, prince, if I have not been wrongly scorned.
Give me the arrows. Now they have seen my strength,
These lords belike would have me prove my skill.
Wooers. Now will he shoot? The villains bring
The arrows.—Ay, he taketh one,
To set it on the string.
Ul. Now is the irresoluble contest o’er:
Though what remains to do be not child’s play.
But I will hit a mark ye little think of.
Apollo aid me! [Shoots Antinous.