Jove, With look indignant: “Come no more to me, Thou wav’ring turncoat, with thy whining pray’rs: Of all the Gods who on Olympus dwell I hate thee most; for thou delight’st in nought 1015 But strife and war; thou hast inherited Thy mother, Juno’s, proud, unbending mood, Whom I can scarce control; and thou, methinks, To her suggestions ow’st thy present plight. Yet since thou art my offspring, and to me 1020 Thy mother bore thee, I must not permit That thou should’st long be doom’d to suffer pain; But had thy birth been other than it is, For thy misdoings thou hadst long ere now Been banish’d
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