PROMETHEUS
  O many fearful natures in one name,
  I know ye; and these lakes and echoes know
  The darkness and the clangor of your wings!
  But why more hideous than your loathèd selves
  Gather ye up in legions from the deep?

SECOND FURY
  We knew not that. Sisters, rejoice, rejoice!

PROMETHEUS
  Can aught exult in its deformity?

SECOND FURY
  The beauty of delight makes lovers glad,
  Gazing on one another: so are we.
  As from the rose which the pale priestess kneels
  To gather for her festal crown of flowers
  The aërial crimson falls, flushing her cheek,
  So from our victim's destined agony
  The shade which is our form invests us round;
  Else we are shapeless as our mother Night.
 
PROMETHEUS
  I laugh your power, and his who sent you here,
  To lowest scorn. Pour forth the cup of pain.

FIRST FURY
  Thou thinkest we will rend thee bone from bone
  And nerve from nerve, working like fire within?

PROMETHEUS
  Pain is my element, as hate is thine;
  Ye rend me now; I care not.