Release me, Zeus; I have suffered enough.

Release you? you? Why, by rights your irons should be heavier, you should have the whole weight of Caucasus upon you, and instead of one, a dozen vultures, not just pecking at — your liver, but scratching out your eyes. You made these: abominable human creatures to vex us, you stole our fire, you invented women. I need not remind you how you overreached me about the meat-offerings; my portion, bones disguised in fat: yours, all the good.

And have I not been punished enough—riveted to the Caucasus all these years, feeding your bird (on which all worst curses light!) with my liver?

"Tis not a tithe of your deserts,

Consider, I do not ask you to release me for nothing. I offer you information which is invaluable.