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Rh Wherefore, I shall go. And if I die, what care I? Let Achilles slay me, so that I embrace once more the body of my son." Then he bade put into a wagon shawls and mantles that had never been washed, and rugs, and cloaks, and tunics, twelve of each, and ten talents of gold, and two bright three-footed caldrons, and four basins, and a cup of passing beauty which the Thracians had given him. The old man spared nothing that he had, if only he might buy back his son. None of the Trojans would he suffer to come near him. "Begone," he cried, "ye cowards! Have ye nothing to wail for at home, that ye come to wail with me? Surely, an easy prey will ye be to the Greeks, now that Hector is dead." Then he cried with like angry words to his sons, Paris, and Agathon, and Deïphobus, and the others—there were nine of them in all:— "Make haste, ye evil brood. Would that ye all had died in the room of Hector. Surely, an ill-fated father am I. Many a brave son I had, as Mestor, and Troilus, and Hector, who was fairer than any of the sons of men. But all these are gone, and only the cowards are