52
Io.
Ah me! Alas for me! Woe! Woe!
Prometheus.
Afresh thou wailest and art making moan: 765 (762)
What wilt thou do when taught thine other woes?
Chorus.
What, hast thou yet more troubles to forebode?
Prometheus.
Yea, a tempestuous sea of baneful griefs.
Io.
Then what avails me life? Why not at once
Hurl myself downwards off this rugged crag, 770 (767)
And, dashed to the ground, be quit of all these toils?
For it is better once for all to die
Than to be suffering evil all one's days.
Prometheus.
Ill wouldst thou bear the trials given me
To whom it hath not been ordained to die; 775 (772)
For that would be deliverance from pain,
But now unto my sufferings is set
No term till Zeus be driven from his rule.
