Page:Four Plays of Aeschylus (1908) Morshead.djvu/240

210 Already flung therefrom? and soon shall see

A third, that now in tyranny exults,

Shamed, ruined, in an hour! What sayest thou?

Crouch I and tremble at these stripling powers?

Small homage unto such from me, or none!

Betake thee hence, sweat back along thy road—

Look for no answer from me, get thee gone!

Think—it was such audacities of will

That drove thee erst to anchorage in woe!

Ay—but mark this: mine heritage of pain

I would not barter for thy servitude.

Better, forsooth, be bond-slave to a crag,

Than true-born herald unto Zeus the Sire!

Take thine own coin—taunts for a taunting slave!

Proud art thou in thy circumstance, methinks!

Proud? in such pride then be my foemen set,

And I to see—and of such foes art thou!

What, blam'st thou me too for thy sufferings?