Prometheus Bound (933-984)

Why should I fear since I am fated not to die?

But he might inflict on you an ordeal even more bitter than this.

Let him, for all I care! I am prepared for anything.

Wise are they who do homage to Necessity.[*]

Worship, adore, and fawn upon whoever is your lord. But for Zeus I care less than nothing. Let him do his will, let him hold his power

for his little day— since he will not bear sway over the gods for long. But wait, for over there I see his messenger, the servant of our new lord and master. Certainly he has come to announce some news.

To you, the clever and crafty, bitter beyond all bitterness,

who has sinned against the gods in bestowing honors upon creatures of a day—to you, thief of fire, I speak. The Father commands that you tell what marriage you boast of, whereby he is to be hurled from power—and this, mark well, set forth in no riddling fashion,

but point by point, as the case exactly stands; and do not impose upon me a double journey, Prometheus—you see Zeus is not appeased by dealings such as yours.

Bravely spoken, in truth, and swollen with pride is your speech, as befits a minion of the gods.

Young you are, as young your power, and you think indeed that you inhabit heights beyond the reach of grief. Have I not seen two sovereigns cast out from these heights? A third, the present lord, I shall live to see cast out in ruin most shameful and most swift. Do you think

I quail, perhaps, and cower before these upstart gods? Far from it—no, not at all. But scurry back the way you came; for you shall learn nothing about which you question me.

Yet it was by such proud wilfulness before, too,

that you brought yourself to this harbor of distress.

For your servitude, rest assured, I’d not barter my hard lot, not I.

Better, no doubt, to serve this rock than be the trusted messenger of Father Zeus!

Such is the proper style for the insolent to offer insult.

I think you revel in your present plight.

I revel? Oh, I wish that I might see my enemies revelling in this way! And you, too, I count among them.

What! You blame me in some way for your calamities?

In one word, I hate all the gods that received good at my hands and with ill requite me wrongfully.

Your words declare you stricken with no slight madness.

Mad I may be—if it is madness to loathe one’s enemies.

You would be unbearable if you were prosperous.

Alas!

Alas? That is a word unknown to Zeus.

But ever-ageing Time teaches all things.

Yes, but you at least have not yet learned to keep a sober mind.

Or else I would not have addressed you, an underling.

It seems you will answer nothing that the Father demands.