Io.
Yet from me hide not what I needs must suffer.
Prometheus.
Not chary am I of such boon to thee.
Io.
Then why delayest to make known the whole?
Prometheus.
Nothing I grudge, but shrink to vex thy heart.
Io.
Care not for me more than to me is sweet.
Prometheus.
Thine eager wish constrains my tongue; give ear.
Chorus.
Not yet: to me my dole of pleasure deal;
Enquire we first into this maiden's plague, 650
Herself relating her sore-wasting fortunes.
Her residue of toil then teach us thou.
Prometheus.
Io, thy task it is their wish to grant,
The more so as thy father's sisters they.
Besides, fair guerdon waits on lengthened tale,
When to deplore and wail one's evil plight
Draws from the listeners the kindly tear.
Io.
I know not how I can deny your wish,
