When Patroclus reached the tent of Nestor he found the venerable King of Pylos sitting with Machaon, waiting while a handmaid prepared for them a slight refection. The woman drew a table before them, and on it she placed a brazen dish, with onions, and honeycomb, and barley cakes. Then she took a massive cup, embossed with gold, resting on a double base, and having four golden handles, each one of which was wrought in the form of two doves, which seemed to be feeding from the cup. In this vessel she prepared a posset, pouring in a rich red wine, into which she sprinkled cheese of goats' milk and white barley meal. And when the posset was ready she set it on the table, and bade them drink. The cup was very weighty, and a strong hand was needed to lift it to the lips; but Nestor raised it easily, old as he was, and was about to take a draught, when, looking up, he saw Patroclus standing at the door of the tent. Replacing the goblet on the table, Nestor rose to greet him, and taking him by the hand invited him to enter. But Patroclus hesitated, wishing to return at once with the required information to his friend, whose impatient and exacting mood he knew and feared. "I was sent," he said, "to ask the name of the wounded man, and I see that it is Machaon. Achilles waits for an answer, and I dare not keep him waiting." Nevertheless, he lingered awhile, and listened to the long harangue of that "old man eloquent," who soon wandered, according to his wont, into a long story of his youthful prowess, when he lived as the sole survivor of twelve sons in the house of his father Neleus. "But why," he asked, when that theme was exhausted--"why should Achilles inquire about one wounded Greek? He knows not the extent of our mischances, nor how much cause we have to mourn. Diomede, the valiant son of Tydeus, is stricken with an arrow, Agamemnon also is wounded, and likewise Odysseus. Will Achilles now be satisfied, or is he waiting until our ships are consumed with fire, and all of us put to the sword? Would that this arm of mine were as of yore, when I was the bulwark of my father's house, and of all my people. But Achilles puts forth his might and his valour only for his own honour and glory, and cares not though his country perish. Canst thou do nothing with him? Remember the charge which Menœtius, thy father, gave thee, when we were sojourning, I and Odysseus, in the house of Peleus. We came thither to summon thee and Achilles to the war, and ye were both fain to go. And these were the parting words of Menœtius to thee: "My son, Achilles, is far mightier than thou, but thou art the elder, and it is for thee to guide him, and counsel him for his good. Be wise, and be kind, and he will obey thee."