Nimble-footed Achilles responded in kind with a dark glance:
“O what insolence cloaks you, your mind so greedy for profit!
How can the Greeks, any one of them, readily follow your orders,
151 whether to go on a voyage, or battle your enemies boldly?
I didn’t come here to battle because of the Trojan spearmen—
I have no quarrel with them, for they’ve never done me damage.
They’ve never driven my cattle away, nor stolen my horses;
nor have they come into Phthia, where heroes are nursed by the rich soil,
ever to ruin my crops; for there’s much in the distance between us—
157 shadowy mountains loom, and the bellowing ocean surges.
You, though, we followed, O mighty impudence—earning your favor,
winning your honor, and Menelaus’s, back from the Trojans—
dog-faced ingrate! And what do you care? Or have you forgotten?
Now after all that we’ve done, you threaten to take my warprize,
all that I’ve worked so hard for, my gift from the sons of Achaea.