Troil. Why there you touched the life of our design: 
Were it not glory that we covet more
Than war and vengeance, (beasts’ and women’s pleasure)
I would not wish a drop of Trojan blood
Spent more in her defence; but oh! my brother,
She is a subject of renown and honour;
And I presume brave Hector would not lose
The rich advantage of his future fame
For the wide world’s revenue:—­I have business;
But glad I am to leave you thus resolved. 
When such arms strike, ne’er doubt of the success.

AEn. May we not guess?

Troil. You may, and be deceived. [Exit TROIL.

Hect. A woman, on my life:  even so it happens, Religion, state-affairs, whate’er’s the theme, It ends in woman still.

  Enter ANDROMACHE.

Priam. See, here’s your wife, To make that maxim good.

Hect. Welcome, Andromache:  your looks are chearful, You bring some pleasing news.

Andro. Nothing that’s serious.  Your little son Astyanax has employed me As his ambassadress.

Hect. Upon what errand?

Andro. No less than that his grandfather this day
Would make him knight:  he longs to kill a Grecian: 
For should he stay to be a man, he thinks
You’ll kill them all; and leave no work for him.

Priam. Your own blood, Hector.

Andro. And therefore he designs to send a challenge
To Agamemnon, Ajax, or Achilles,
To prove they do not well to burn our fields,
And keep us cooped like prisoners in a town,
To lead this lazy life.

Hect. What sparks of honour Fly from this child! the gods speak in him sure:  —­It shall be so—­I’ll do’t.

Priam. What means my son?

Hect. To send a challenge to the boldest Greek. 
Is not that country ours? those fruitful fields
Washed by yon silver flood, are they not ours? 
Those teeming vines that tempt our longing eyes,
Shall we behold them? shall we call them ours,
And dare not make them so? by heavens I’ll know
Which of these haughty Grecians dares to think
He can keep Hector prisoner here in Troy.

Priam. If Hector only were a private man,
This would be courage; but in him ’tis madness. 
The general safety on your life depends;
And, should you perish in this rash attempt,
Troy with a groan would feel her soul go out,
And breathe her last in you.

AEn. The task you undertake is hazardous: 
Suppose you win, what would the profit be? 
If Ajax or Achilles fell beneath
Your thundering arm, would all the rest depart? 
Would Agamemnon, or his injured brother,
Set sail for this? then it were worth your danger. 
But, as it is, we throw our utmost stake
Against whole heaps of theirs.

Priam. He tells you true.