PROMETHEUS BOUND
Thou thoughtest not a thing redoubtable
The wrath of thine own kind, but unto man
Increasedst honour inordinate: whereof 30
Behold the guerdon! to stand sentinel
Of this grim scar, where is not any stooping
Or sleep or slacking of the knees, but long
Lament redoubled on lament, and groans
Wind-wasted. Who shall turn the heart of Zeus?
That one is ever harsh, whose rule is new.
KRATOS
Good now! what use to linger and make ruth?
The god, whom gods abhor, dost thou not hate,
Seeing he betray'd thy precious thing to men?
HEPHAISTOS
A thrill in kinship lives and ancient converse.
KRATOS
Aye, aye, but to ignore the Father's word, 40
May that be? doth not that fear thrill thee more?
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