Oceanus monologue — Four Plays of Aeschylus

Yea, I behold, Prometheus! and would warn Thee, spite of all thy wisdom, for thy weal! Learn now thyself to know, and to renew A rightful spirit within thee, for, made new With pride of place, sits Zeus among the gods! Now, if thou choosest to fling forth on him Words rough with anger thus and edged with scorn, Zeus, though he sit aloof, afar, on high, May hear thine utterance, and make thee deem His present wrath a mere pretence of pain. Banish, poor wretch! the passion of thy soul, And seek, instead, acquittance from thy pangs! Belike my words seem ancientry to thee— Such, natheless, O Prometheus, is the meed That doth await the overweening tongue! Meek wert thou never, wilt not crouch to pain, But, set amid misfortunes, cravest more! Now—if thou let thyself be schooled by me— Thou must not kick against the goad. Thou knowest, A despot rules, harsh, resolute, supreme, Whose law is will. Yet shall I go to him, With all endeavour to relieve thy plight— So thou wilt curb the tempest of thy tongue! Surely thou knowest, in thy wisdom deep, The saw—_Who vaunts amiss, quick pain is his_.