Pitiful creature, how can you be so blind as to argue the way you do? Are you not aware of the fact that your father's father Pelops long ago was a barbarian, a Phrygian? That Atreus, your own begetter, set before his brother a most unholy feast made from the flesh of his brother's children?
And you yourself were born from a Cretan mother, whose father found a stranger straddling her and who was consigned by him to be prey for the mute fish. So being of such a kind, can you reproach a man like me for my lineage? I am the son of Telamon,
who won my mother for his consort as prize for valor supreme in the army. And she was the daughter of Laomedon, of royal blood, and it was as the flower of the spoil that Alcmena's son gave her to Telamon. Thus nobly born as I am from two noble parents,
could I disgrace my own flesh and blood, whom even as he lies here subdued by such massive troubles, you, making your pronouncements without a blush of shame, would thrust out without burial? Now consider this well: wherever you cast him away, with him you will also cast our three corpses.
It is right for me to die before all men's eyes while I am toiling in his cause, rather than for your wife—or should I say your brother's? With this in mind, then, look not to my safety, but to yours instead, since if you cause me any grief at all, you will soon wish
that you had been more timid than bold when confronting me.