PROMETHEUS BOUND
Io
What gain to live then? Wherefore have I not
Long since leapt headlong from this iron crag,
That hurtling so to earth, I might have done
With all my labours? Better once to die 750
Than always every morrow taste fresh pain!
PROMETHEUS
Good sooth, not easily would'st thou support
Such load as mine, whom fate debars from death;—
That were indeed to find deliverance.
Now, as things are, my travail sees proposed
No end, till Zeus be throned in heaven no more.
Io
What! Zeus unthronèd? can that ever be?
PROMETHEUS
Thine eye, meseems, at such calamity
Would lighten.
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