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 The drudge of the young monarchy. He is come,

Of that no doubt, some new thing on his tongue.

This word to thee, the master-wit, to thee

More bitter than all bitter things, the prime

Offender against the gods, purveying honours

To perishable flesh, the thief of fire!—

Thus saith the Father: Thou shalt surely speak

And say what manner of marriage this may be

Thou vauntest of, and who they are, whereby

The One that rules shall fall; and that nowise

With riddling lips, but each particular

After its proper truth: nor make me tread

The same path twice, Prometheus: such, thou see'st,

Were not the way to appease the heart of Zeus.

Superb in utterance, blown with lusty pride,

His speech is: hear the servant of the gods!