[Disarms.]
Enter Achilles and Myrmidons.
ACHILLES.
Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set,
How ugly night comes breathing at his heels;
Even with the vail and dark’ning of the sun,
To close the day up, Hector’s life is done.
HECTOR.
I am unarm’d; forego this vantage, Greek.
ACHILLES.
Strike, fellows, strike; this is the man I seek.
[Hector falls.]
So, Ilion, fall thou next! Now, Troy, sink down;
Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone.
On, Myrmidons, and cry you all amain
‘Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain.’
[A retreat sounded.]
Hark! a retire upon our Grecian part.
MYRMIDON.
The Trojan trumpets sound the like, my lord.