Achil. Am I poor of late? 
’Tis certain, greatness, once fallen out with fortune,
Must fall out with men too:  what the declined is,
He shall as soon read in the eyes of others,
As feel in his own fall; for men, like butterflies,
Show not their mealy wings but to the summer.

Patro. ’Tis known you are in love with Hector’s sister,
And therefore will not fight; and your not fighting
Draws on you this contempt.  I oft have told you,
A woman, impudent and mannish grown,
Is not more loathed than an effeminate man,
In time of action:  I am condemned for this: 
They think my little appetite to war
Deads all the fire in you; but rouse yourself,
And love shall from your neck unloose his folds;
Or, like a dew-drop from a lion’s mane,
Be shaken into air.

Achil. Shall Ajax fight with Hector?

Patro. Yes, and perhaps shall gain much honour by him.

Achil. I see my reputation is at stake.

Patro. O then beware; those wounds heal ill, that men Have given themselves, because they give them deepest.

Achil. I’ll do something; But what I know not yet.—­No more; our champion.

  Re-enter AJAX, AGAMEMNON, MENELAUS, ULYSSES, NESTOR, DIOMEDE,
  Trumpet.

Agam. Here art thou, daring combat, valiant Ajax. 
Give, with thy trumpet, a loud note to Troy,
Thou noble champion, that the sounding air
May pierce the ears of the great challenger,
And call him hither.

Ajax. Trumpet, take that purse: 
Now crack thy lungs, and split the sounding brass;
Thou blow’st for Hector.
                       [Trumpet sounds, and is answered from within.

Enter HECTOR, AENEAS, and other Trojans.

Agam. Yonder comes the troop.

AEn. [Coming to the Greeks.]
Health to the Grecian lords:—­What shall be done
To him that shall be vanquished? or do you purpose
A victor should be known? will you, the knights
Shall to the edge of all extremity
Pursue each other, or shall be divided
By any voice or order of the field? 
Hector bade ask.

Agam. Which way would Hector have it?

AEn. He cares not, he’ll obey conditions.

Achil. ’Tis done like Hector, but securely done;
A little proudly, and too much despising
The knight opposed; he might have found his match.

AEn. If not Achilles, sir, what is your name?

Achil. If not Achilles, nothing.

AEn. Therefore Achilles; but whoe’er, know this;
Great Hector knows no pride:  weigh him but well,
And that, which looks like pride, is courtesy. 
This Ajax is half made of Hector’s blood,
In love whereof half Hector stays at home.

Achil. A maiden battle?  I perceive you then.