PROMETHEUS BOUND
CHORUS
Discover all to us, declare at large
What manner of quarrel Zeus hath fix'd upon thee,
That in such infamous and bitter sort
He handles thee. Resolve us, if no harm.
PROMETHEUS
Of a truth, the speaking of these things is pain,
Silence is pain, all ways are miserable.
When at the first anger arose in Heaven,
And between gods and gods contentious heat, 200
Some seeking to drive Kronos from his throne
With cry that Zeus should reign, some contrary
Resolv'd that Zeus should never rule the gods,
I then, the best way showing, counsell'd well
My brethren, Titans, sons of Heaven and Earth,
But counsell'd bootless. Cozening stratagem
They scorn'd, and thought in overweening mood
To hold by force their easeful mastery.
Now me my Mother, Themis call'd and Earth,—
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