No room for me, so many are annoy’d.
XVII. This is certainly Eurypylus himself. What an experienced man!—While his friend is continually enlarging on his misfortunes, you may observe that he is so far from weeping that he even assigns a reason why he should bear his wounds with patience.
Who at his enemy a stroke directs,
His sword to light upon himself expects.
Patroclus, I suppose, will lead him off to his chamber to bind up his wounds, at least if he be a man: but not a word of that; he only inquires how the battle went:
Say how the Argives bear themselves in fight?
And yet no words can show the truth as well as those, your deeds and visible sufferings.
Peace! and my wounds bind up;
but though Eurypylus could bear these afflictions, Æsopus could not,
Where Hector’s fortune press’d our yielding troops;