<SPEECH 1><ACT 2><SCENE 2><36%>
<PLAYER 1>	<36%>
	What speech, my good lord?
</PLAYER 1>

<SPEECH 2><ACT 2><SCENE 2><37%>
<PLAYER 1>	<37%>
	Anon, he finds him
	Striking too short at Greeks; his antique sword,
	Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls,
	Repugnant to command. Unequal match'd,
	Pyrrhus at Priam drives; in rage strikes wide;
	But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword
	The unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium,
	Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top
	Stoops to his base, and with a hideous crash
	Takes prisoner Pyrrhus' ear: for lo! his sword,
	Which was declining on the milky head
	Of rever end Priam, seem'd i' the air to stick:
	So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood,
	And like a neutral to his will and matter,
	Did nothing.
	But, as we often see, against some storm,
	A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still,
	The bold winds speechless and the orb below
	As hush as death, anon the dreadful thunder
	Doth rend the region; so, after Pyrrhus' pause,
	Aroused vengeance sets him new a-work;
	And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall
	On Mars's armour, forg'd for proof eterne,
	With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword
	Now falls on Priam.
	Out, out, thou strumpet, Fortune! All you gods,
	In general synod, take away her power;
	Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel,
	And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven,
	As low as to the fiends!
</PLAYER 1>

<SPEECH 3><ACT 2><SCENE 2><38%>
<PLAYER 1>	<38%>
	But who, O! who had seen the mobled queen—
</PLAYER 1>

<SPEECH 4><ACT 2><SCENE 2><38%>
<PLAYER 1>	<38%>
	Run barefoot up and down, threat'ning the flames
	With bisson rheum; a clout upon that head
	Where late the diadem stood; and, for a robe,
	About her lank and all o'er-teemed loins,
	A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up;
	Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'd,
	'Gainst Fortune's state would treason have pronounc'd:
	But if the gods themselves did see her then,
	When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport
	In mincing with his sword her husband's limbs,
	The instant burst of clamour that she made—
	Unless things mortal move them not at all—
	Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven,
	And passion in the gods.
</PLAYER 1>

<SPEECH 5><ACT 2><SCENE 2><39%>
<PLAYER 1>	<39%>
	Ay, my lord.
</PLAYER 1>

<SPEECH 6><ACT 2><SCENE 2><39%>
<PLAYER 1>	<39%>
	Ay, my lord.
</PLAYER 1>

<SPEECH 7><ACT 3><SCENE 2><45%>
<PLAYER 1>	<46%>
	I warrant your honour.
</PLAYER 1>

<SPEECH 8><ACT 3><SCENE 2><46%>
<PLAYER 1>	<46%>
	I hope we have reformed that indifferently with us.
</PLAYER 1>

