[A retreat sounded.]
Hark! a retire upon our Grecian part.
MYRMIDON.
The Trojan trumpets sound the like, my lord.
ACHILLES.
The dragon wing of night o’erspreads the earth
And, stickler-like, the armies separates.
My half-supp’d sword, that frankly would have fed,
Pleas’d with this dainty bait, thus goes to bed.
[Sheathes his sword.]
Come, tie his body to my horse’s tail;
Along the field I will the Trojan trail.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE IX. Another part of the plain.
Sound retreat. Shout. Enter Agamemnon, Ajax, Menelaus, Nestor, Diomedes and the rest, marching.
AGAMEMNON.
Hark! hark! what shout is this?