It seems thou wilt not tell what Zeus demands.

PROMETHEUS.

Were I his debtor I the debt would pay.

HERMES.

As though I were a child thou twittest me.

PROMETHEUS.

Art thou not sillier than a silly child,
To think that I will tell thee what thou ask'st?
No torture does Zeus know, he has no rack
By which he can my secret wrest from me,
Till from these cruel bonds I am released.
Let him hurl lightnings with his red right hand,
Let him with whirling snow and earthquake shock,
Confound and wreck this universal frame,
Never shall he constrain me to reveal
The child of fate that hurls him from his throne.

HERMES.

Look, will this insolence amend thy lot?

PROMETHEUS.