Hic gravis Entellum dictis castigat Acestes, proximus ut viridante toro consederat herbae: Entelle, heroum quondam fortissime frustra, tantane tam patiens nullo certamine tolli dona sines? ubi nunc nobis deus ille, magister nequiquam memoratus, Eryx? ubi fama per omnem Trinacriam et spolia illa tuis pendentia tectis? ille sub haec: non laudis amor nec gloria cessit pulsa metu; sed enim gelidus tardante senecta sanguis hebet, frigentque effetae in corpore vires.
At this Acestes sternly chides Entellus, as he sat next him on the green couch of grass: Entellus, once bravest of heroes, though in vain, will you so tamely let gifts so great be carried off without a struggle? Where now, pray, is the divine Eryx, whom you called your teacher'all in vain? Where is your renown over all Sicily, and those spoils that hung in your house? At this he said: No cowardice has banished love of honour or thought of renown; but my blood is chilled and dulled by sluggish age, and my strength of body is numb and lifeless.