With agony more dreadful, pain beyond
These pains.
Prometheus.
Why let him if he will!
All evils I foreknow.
Chorus.
Ay, they are wise
Who do obeisance, prostrate in the dust,
To the implacable, eternal Will.
Prometheus.
Go thou and worship; fold thy hands in prayer,
And be the dog that licks the foot of power!
Nothing care I for Zeus; yea, less than naught!
Let him do what he will, and sway the world
His little hour; he has not long to lord it
Among the Gods.
Oh! here his runner comes!
The upstart tyrant's lacquey! He'll bring news,
A message, never doubt it, from his master.
Enter Hermes.
Hermes.
You, the sophistical rogue, the heart of gall,
The renegade of heaven,—to short-lived men
Purveyor of prerogatives and titles,—
Fire-thief! Dost hear me? I've a word for thee.
Thou'rt to declare,—this is the Father's pleasure—
These marriage-feasts of thine, whereof thy tongue
Rattles a-pace, and by the which his greatness
Shall take a fall. And look you rede no riddles,
But tell the truth, in each particular
Exact. I am not to sweat for thee, Prometheus,
Upon a double journey. And thou seest
Zeus by thy dark defiance is not moved.
