PROMETHEUS.
No matter which—more must not be revealed.
IO.
Doth then a consort thrust him from his throne?
PROMETHEUS.
The child she bears him shall o’ercome his sire.
IO.
And hath he no avoidance of this doom?
PROMETHEUS.
None, surely—till that I, released from bonds—
IO.
Who can release thee, but by will of Zeus?
PROMETHEUS.
Fate gives this duty to a child of thine!
IO.
How? Shall a child of mine undo thy woes?
PROMETHEUS.
Yea, of thy lineage, thirteen times removed.
IO.
Dark beyond guessing grows thine oracle.