Such
blows and counter blows were never seen, only they never hit, but often
whirled the warrior who dealt them completely round; they tumbled over
their own blows, panted with feigned rage, lost their robes and great
pasteboard helmets, and were even more absurd than Richmond and Richard
ever were on the country boards at a fifth-rate theatre. But Hector is
at last slain and borne away, and a ludicrous lay figure is laid out to
represent him, with bunged-up eyes and a general flabbiness of body and
want of features, charming to behold. On their necks the Trojans bear
him to their walls, and with a sudden jerk pitch him over them head
first, and he tumbles, in a heap, into the city. Then Ulysses harangues
the Greeks. He has brought out a _quarteruola_ barrel of wine, which,
with most expressive pantomime, he shows to be the wooden horse that
must be carried into Troy. His proposition is joyfully accepted, and,
accompanied by all, he rolls the cask up to the walls, and, flourishing
a tin cup in one hand, invites the Trojans to partake. At first there
is confusion in the city, and fingers are twiddled over the walls, but
after a time all go out and drink, and become ludicrously drunk, and
stagger about, embracing each other in the most maudlin style.
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