Dolon.
Ill at field-toil be dainty-nurtured hands.
Hector.
Whom of the Greeks wouldst hold to ransom then?
Dolon.
Erewhile I said it—gold my halls lack not.
Hector.
Then come, and of the spoils make choice thyself.
Dolon.
These to the Gods hang thou on temple-walls. 180
Hector.
What greater guerdon canst thou ask than these?
Dolon.
Achilles' horses. He for worthy meed
Must toil, who sets his life on fortune's hazard.
Hector.
Ha! steeds I covet dost thou covet too,
For, foals immortal of immortal sires, 185
They bear the battle-eager Peleus' son.
These King Poseidon, even the Sea-god, tamed,
Men say, and gave them unto Peleus' seed.
Yet will I cheat not hopes I raised, but give
Achilles' team, a glory to thine house. 190
Dolon.
I thank thee: so I win them, goodliest prize
