No one sees me, Save the all-seeing Gods, who, knowing good And knowing evil, have created me Such as I am, and filled me with desire Of knowing good and evil like themselves.
(She approaches the chest.) I hesitate no longer.

Weal or woe, Or life or death, the moment shall decide.
(She lifts the lid.

A dense mist rises from the chest, and fills the room.

PANDORA falls senseless on the floor.

Storm without.) CHORUS OF DREAMS FROM THE GATE OF HORN.
Yes, the moment shall decide! It already hath decided; And the secret once confided To the keeping of the Titan Now is flying far and wide, Whispered, told on every side, To disquiet and to frighten.
Fever of the heart and brain, Sorrow, pestilence, and pain, Moans of anguish, maniac laughter, All the evils that hereafter Shall afflict and vex mankind, All into the air have risen From the chambers of their prison; Only Hope remains behind.
VIII IN THE GARDEN EPIMETHEUS.
The storm is past, but it hath left behind it Ruin and desolation.