Or word I have offended, let me bleed!Bury me here alive! I ask no pardon.THRACIAN.HECTOR is standing over him ready to strike when the CHARIOTEER speaks.Why threaten them? Art thou a Greek to blindMy barbarous wit so nimbly, in a windOf words? This work was thine. And no man’s headIs asked by us, the wounded and the dead,Save thine. It needs more play, and better feigned,To hide from me that thou hast slain thy friendBy craft, to steal his horses.—That is whyHe stabs his friends. He prays them earnestly,