Prometheus.
Fate, that brings all things to an end, not thus
Apportioneth my lot: ten thousand pangs
Must bow, ten thousand miseries afflict me
Ere from these bonds I freedom find, for Art
Is by much weaker than Necessity.
Chorus.
Who is the pilot of Necessity?
Prometheus.
The Fates triform, and the unforgetting Furies.
Chorus.
So then Zeus is of lesser might than these?
Prometheus.
Surely he shall not shun the lot apportioned.
Chorus.
What lot for Zeus save world-without-end reign?
Prometheus.
Tax me no further with importunate questions.
Chorus.
O deep the mystery thou shroudest there!
Prometheus.
Of aught but this freely thou may'st discourse;
But touching this I charge thee speak no word;
Nay, veil it utterly: for strictly kept
The secret from these bonds shall set me free.
Chorus.
May Zeus who all things swayeth
Ne'er wreak the might none stayeth
On wayward will of mine;
May I stint not nor waver
