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Iron-hearted and made of stone, Prometheus,  is he who feels no compassion at your miseries. For myself, I would not have desired to see them; and now that I see them, I am pained in my heart. Prometheus
Yes, to my friends indeed I am a spectacle of pity. Chorus
Did you perhaps transgress even somewhat beyond this offence? Prometheus
 Yes, I caused mortals to cease foreseeing their doom.1 Chorus
Of what sort was the cure that you found for this affliction? Prometheus
I caused blind hopes to dwell within their breasts. Chorus
A great benefit was this you gave to mortals. Prometheus
In addition, I gave them fire. Chorus
 What! Do creatures of a day now have flame-eyed fire? Prometheus
Yes, and from it they shall learn many arts. Chorus
Then it was on a charge like this that Zeus— Prometheus
Torments me and in no way gives me respite from pain. Chorus
And is there no end assigned to your ordeal? Prometheus
 No, none except when it seems good to him. Chorus
But how will it seem good to him? What hope is there? Do you not see that you have wronged? And yet it is not pleasant for me to talk about how you have wronged, and for you it is pain. So, let us quit this theme; and may you seek some release from your ordeal.
1 “Doom” here signifies “doom of death.”
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