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PROMETHEUS BOUND.
To quail and tremble 'neath the modern gods?
Far be it from my spirit! But for thee,
Along the way thou earnest hasten back;
For naught which thou demandest shalt thou hear.
Her. And yet, of old, by such audacities,
Into this woe thou didst impel thyself.
Pro. I would not barter—thou mayst learn that from me—
My state of woe for thine of servitude.
Better, I ween, to serve this rock, than be
The faithful messenger of father Jove.
Thus unto scoffers we retort their scoffs.
Her. Thou seem'st to glory in this state of thine.
Pro. I glory! Would that I could see my foes
So glorying! and 'mong them I name thee.
Her. Me also dost thou inculpate in aught
Of thy misfortunes?
Pro.In one word, I hate
The universal gods, who wrongfully,
