Being that black fiend Contention; whom would to God might die To Gods and men; and Anger too, that kindles tyranny In men most wise, being much more sweet than liquid honey is To men of pow’r to satiate their watchful enmities; And like a pliant fume it spreads through all their breasts; as late It stole stern passage thorough mine, which he did instigate That is our Gen’ral. But the fact so long past, the effect Must vanish with it, though both griev’d; nor must we still respect Our soothéd humours. Need now takes the rule of either’s mind. And when the loser of my friend his death in me shall find, Let death take all. Send him, ye Gods, I’ll give him my embrace. Not Hercules himself shunn’d death, though dearest in the grace Of Jupiter; ev’n him Fate stoop’d, and Juno’s cruelty. And if such fate expect my life, where death strikes I will lie. Meantime I wish a good renown that these deep breasted dames Of Ilion and Dardania may, for the extinguish’d flames Of their friends’ lives, with both their hands wipe miserable tears From their so-curiously-kept cheeks, and be the officers To execute my sighs on Troy, when (seeing my long retreat But gather’d strength, and gives my charge an answerable heat) They well may know ’twas I lay still, and that my being away Presented all their happiness. But any further stay (Which your much love perhaps may wish) assay not to persuade; All vows are kept, all pray’rs heard; now, free way for fight is made.” The silver-footed Dame replied: “It fits thee well, my son, To keep destruction from thy friends; but those fair arms are won And worn by Hector, that should keep thyself in keeping them, Though their fruition be but short, a long death being near him, Whose cruel glory they are yet. By all means then forbear To tread the massacres of war, till I again appear From Mulciber with fit new arms; which, when thy eye shall see The sun next rise, shall enter here with his first beams and me.” Thus to her Sisters of the Sea she turn’d, and bade them ope The doors and deeps of Nereüs; she in Olympus’ top Must visit Vulcan for new arms to serve her wreakful son, And bade inform her father so, with all things further done. This said, they underwent the sea, herself flew up to heav’n. In mean space, to the Hellespont and ships the Greeks were driv’n In shameful rout; nor could they yet, from rage of Priam’s son, Secure the dead of new assaults, both horse and men made on With such impression. Thrice the feet the hands of Hector seiz’d, And thrice th’ Ajaces thump’d him off. With whose repulse displeas’d, He wreak’d his wrath upon the troops, then to the corse again Made horrid turnings, crying out of his repulséd men, And would not quit him quite for death. A lion almost sterv’d Is not by upland herdsman driv’n, from urging to be serv’d, With more contention, than his strength by those two of a name; And had perhaps his much-prais’d will, if th’ airy-footed Dame,