By heaven, could I once see this peril rolled Past us, and live in Ilion as of old, Untrembling, I would thank my gods! To seek Argos and sack the cities of the Greek-- 'Twere not such light work as thou fanciest. RHESUS. These Greeks that face thee, are they not their best? HECTOR. We seek not better. These do all we need. RHESUS. When these are beaten, then, we have done the deed. HECTOR. Lose not thy path watching a distant view. RHESUS. Thou seem'st content to suffer, not to do? HECTOR. I have a kingdom large by mine own right. . . . What station will best please thee in this fight To ground the targe and stablish thine array? Right, left, or midmost in the allies? Say. RHESUS. 'Twould please me best to fight these Greeks alone. Yet, if 'twould irk thine honour not to have thrown One firebrand on the ships with me, why, then Set us to face Achilles and his men. HECTOR. [vv. 492-509] Achilles? Nay, his spear ye cannot meet. RHESUS. How so? Fame said he sailed here with the fleet. HECTOR. He sailed, and he is here. But some despite 'Gainst the great King now keeps him from the fight. RHESUS. Who next to him hath honour in their host? HECTOR. Next, to my seeming, Ajax hath the most, Or Diomede.--But Odysseus is a tough And subtle fox, and brave; aye, brave enough. No man of them hath harmed us more than he. He climbed here to Athena's sanctuary One night, and stole her image clean away To the Argive ships. Yes, and another day, Guised as a wandering priest, in rags, he came And walked straight through the Gates, made loud acclaim Of curses on the Greek, spied out alone All that he sought in Ilion, and was gone-- Gone, and the watch and helpers of the Gate Dead! And in every ambush they have set By the old Altar, close to Troy, we know He sits--a murderous reptile of a foe! RHESUS. [vv. 510-529] No brave man seeks so dastardly to harm His battle-foes; he meets them arm to arm. This Greek of thine, this sitter like a thief In ambush, I will make of him my chief Care. I will take him living, drive a straight Stake through him, and so star him at the Gate To feed your wide-winged vultures. 'Tis the death Most meet for a lewd thief, who pillageth God's sanctuary, or so we hold in Thrace. HECTOR (_making no answer_).