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NESTOR. Why, ’tis most meet. Who may you else oppose That can from Hector bring those honours off, If not Achilles? Though ’t be a sportful combat, Yet in this trial much opinion dwells For here the Trojans taste our dear’st repute With their fin’st palate; and trust to me, Ulysses, Our imputation shall be oddly pois’d In this vile action; for the success, Although particular, shall give a scantling Of good or bad unto the general; And in such indexes, although small pricks To their subsequent volumes, there is seen The baby figure of the giant mass Of things to come at large. It is suppos’d He that meets Hector issues from our choice; And choice, being mutual act of all our souls, Makes merit her election, and doth boil, As ’twere from forth us all, a man distill’d Out of our virtues; who miscarrying, What heart receives from hence a conquering part, To steel a strong opinion to themselves? Which entertain’d, limbs are his instruments, In no less working than are swords and bows Directive by the limbs.