Let them be butchered by the sword of Hector,
Ere thou be snared to serve their empty pride.
Ach. But louder than their need my honour calls:
Hast thou no thought of this in all thy love?
Th. Who then is honoured more or more desired
Than thou art now? but they, if once they had thee,
Would slight thee, and pretend they were the men.
Ach. But those are honoured best that hear their praise.
Th. Is not high Zeus himself, holding aloof,
Worshipped the more? Let the world say of thee,