Kratos.
Harder—I say—strike harder—screw all tight
And be not in the least particular
Remiss, for unto one of his resource
Bars are but instruments of liberty.
Hephaestus.
This forearm's fast:—a shackle hard to shift.
Kratos.
Now buckle this!—and handsomely! Let him learn
Sharp though he be, he's a dull blade to Zeus.
Hephaestus.
None can find fault with this:—save him it tortures.
Kratos.
Now take thine iron spike and drive it in,
Until it gnaw clean through the rebel's breast.
Hephaestus.
Woe's me, Prometheus, for thy weight of woe!
Kratos.
Still shirking? still a-groaning for the foes
Of Zeus? Anon thou'lt wail thine own mishap.
Hephaestus.
Thou seest what eyes scarce bear to look upon!
Kratos.
I see this fellow getting his deserts!
But strap him with a belt about his ribs.
Hephaestus.
I do what I must do: for thee—less words!
