Anchises is my father; Priam’s son Is noble Hector. Such I claim to be My lineage and my blood; but Jove at will Gives in large measure, or diminishes, Men’s warlike prowess; and the power of Jove Is over all. But let us talk no more Of things like these, as if we were but boys, While here in the mid-field we stand between The warring armies. Both of us might cast Reproaches at each other, many and foul, Such as no galley of a hundred oars Could bear and float. Men’s tongues are voluble, And endless are the modes of speech, and far Extends from side to side the field of words. Such as thou utterest it will be thy lot To hear from others. But what profits it For us to rail and wrangle, in high brawl, Like women angered to the quick, that rush Into the middle of the street and scold With furious words, some true and others false, As rage may prompt them? Me thou shalt not move With words from my firm purpose ere thou raise Thy arm against me. Let us hasten first To prove the temper of our brazen spears.”