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.
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