IONE
  Are they now led from the thin dead
  On new pangs to be fed?

PANTHEA
  The Titan looks as ever, firm, not proud.

FIRST FURY
  Ha! I scent life!

SECOND FURY
  Let me but look into his eyes!

THIRD FURY
  The hope of torturing him smells like a heap
  Of corpses to a death-bird after battle.

FIRST FURY
  Darest thou delay, O Herald! take cheer, Hounds
  Of Hell: what if the Son of Maia soon
  Should make us food and sport--who can please long
  The Omnipotent?

MERCURY
  Back to your towers of iron,
  And gnash, beside the streams of fire and wail,
  Your foodless teeth. Geryon, arise! and Gorgon,
  Chimæra, and thou Sphinx, subtlest of fiends,
  Who ministered to Thebes Heaven's poisoned wine,
  Unnatural love, and more unnatural hate:
  These shall perform your task.