e framework of your Drama, just what
cannot help striking one at first glance, and would not such a Drama
go well before your translation? Do think of this and tell me--it
nearly writes itself. You see, I meant the [Greek: meg' ophelema][8]
to be a deep great truth; if there were no life beyond this, I think
the hope in one would be an incalculable blessing _for_ this life,
which is melancholy for one like AEschylus to feel, if he could _only_
hope, because the argument as to the ulterior good of those hopes is
cut clean away, and what had he left?

I do not find it take away from my feeling of the magnanimity of
Prometheus that he should, in truth, complain (as he does from
beginning to end) of what he finds himself suffering. He could have
prevented all, and can stop it now--of that he never thinks for a
moment. That was the old Greek way--they never let an antagonistic
passion neutralise the other which was to influence the man to his
praise or blame. A Greek hero fears exceedingly and battles it out,
cries out when he is wounded and fights on, does not say his love or
hate makes him see no danger or feel no pain. AEschylus from first word
to last ([Greek: idesthe me, oia pascho][9] to [Greek: esoras me, hos
ekdika pascho][10]) insists on the unmitigated reality of the
punishment which only the sun, and divine ether, and the godhead of
his mother can comprehend; still, still that is only what I suppose
AEschylus to have done--in your poem you shall make Prometheus our way.

And now enough of Greek, which I am fast forgetting (for I never look
at books I loved once)--it was your mention of the translation that
brought out the old fast fading outlines of the Poem in my brain--the
Greek poem, that is. You think--for I must get to _you_--that I
'unconsciously exaggerate what you are to me.' Now, you don't know
what _that_ is, nor can I very well tell you, because the language
with which I talk to myself of these matters is spiritual Attic, and
'loves contractions,' as grammarians say; but I read it myself, and
well know what it means, that's why I told you I was self-conscious--I
meant that I never yet mistook my own feelings, one for
another--there! Of what use is talking? Only do you stay here with me
in the 'House' these few short years. Do you think I shall see you in
two months, three months? I may travel, perhaps. So you have got to
like society, and would enjoy it, you think? For me, I always hated
it--have put