HERMES.
Proud art thou in thy circumstance, methinks!
PROMETHEUS.
Proud? in such pride then be my foemen set,
And I to see—and of such foes art thou!
HERMES.
What, blam’st thou me too for thy sufferings?
PROMETHEUS.
Mark a plain word—I loathe all gods that are,
Who reaped my kindness and repay with wrong.
HERMES.
I hear no little madness in thy words.
PROMETHEUS.
Madness be mine, if scorn of foes be mad.
HERMES.
Past bearing were thy pride, in happiness.
PROMETHEUS.
Ah me!
HERMES.
Zeus knoweth nought of sorrow’s cry!
PROMETHEUS.
He shall! Time’s lapse bringeth all lessons home.