Hect. Well, young man,
Since I'm no friend, (and, oh, that e'er I was,
To one so far unworthy!) bring her out;
Or, by our father's soul, of which no part
Did e'er descend to thee, I'll force her hence.
Troil. I laugh at thee.
Hect. Thou dar'st not.
Troil. I dare more,
If urged beyond my temper: Prove my daring,
And see which of us has the larger share
Of our great father's soul.
Hect. No more!—thou know'st me.
320 Troil. I do; and know myself.
Hect. All this, ye gods!
And for the daughter of a fugitive,
A traitor to his country!
Troil. 'Tis too much.
Hect. By heaven, too little; for I think her common.
Troil. How, common!