What wilt thou do, when thou shalt learn the rest?
CHOR. Remains there ought of ills yet to be told?
PROM. A wide tempestuous sea of baleful woes.
IO. What then has life desirable? Why rather
From this rude cliff leap I not headlong down,
And end my woes? Better to die at once,
Than linger out a length of life in pain.
PROM. Ill wou'dst thou bear my miseries, by the Fates,
Exempt from death, the refuge of th' afflicted.
Bat my afflictions know no bounds, till Jove
Falls from th' inmperial sovereignty of heav'n.
IO. Shall he then fall? Shall the time come, when Jove[1]
Shall sink dethron'd? I think I shou'd rejoice
To see the tyrant's ruin: Shou'd I not,
Since from his hands I suffer all these ills.
PROM. Then be thou well assur'd it shall be so.
IO. And who shall wrest th' imperial sceptre from him?
PROM. Himself, destroy'd by his improvident counsels.
IO. Oh say, if harmless what I ask, say how.
PROM. Urging a marriage he shall dearly rue.
IO. Heav'n-sprung, or mortal ? If permitted, say.
PROM. What matters which? It may not be disclos'd.
IO. Shall then a wife deprive him of the throne?
PROM. She greater than the sire shall bear a son.
- ↑ This is one of those fine touches which distinguish a master's hand. Iö had been cruelly treated, and was sinking even to desperation under the sense of the miseries which she was yet to suffer, when she was told that her rugged wooer, from whom all her afflictions arose, should one day be deprived of the sovereignty of heaven. Here, instead of that pleasure with which it was supposed the predicted event would fill her indignant mind, her concealed love just rises to soften her resentment, and then, fearful of a discovery, hides itself beneath her conscious dignity, and the modest reserve of her sex: nay, the very questions which she afterwards asks, apparently to show her joy for the ruin of Jupiter, discover the most delicate tincture of tender and delicate şensibility.
